I just ironed. That’s the second time this week. I hate ironing. What is going on? Some kind of attempt to live an ordered life in defiance of my vast junk yard of a brain? The word discipline always makes me think of the song by Throbbing Gristle, but I’ll talk about them another time. Amazingly I managed not to burn myself on the iron. I saved that till later when I burned myself making a cup of coffee.
So I’m in the classroom 15 minutes before the lesson. This is adult education. One woman has turned up early and is talking to me about her time in Africa, only she starts slowly turning into an octopus. A very large orange and red octopus, but instead of octopus tentacles she has birds legs and huge great birds claws, loads of them clawing at the air. She keeps on talking. She is fully octobird now. I can’t understand anything she says though I’m trying really hard. I stand very very still indeed and say nothing. With time and patience this passes and I push it off with the excuse of bad hay fever. I feel rubbish but am very good at pretending and the class goes reasonably smoothly.
Epilepsy has been in the news last week after a boy had his cannabis oil taken away from him at customs and then was in hospital with a seizure a day later. I think I’m going to try to get hold of this cannabis oil. It wouldn’t be hard to be an improvement on my current medication. Three to five seizures a week is far too much to cope with and hold down a job. Though experiencing life as one long LSD trip does have some interesting insights.
Today the pavement, the shadows and the leaves of an overhanging tree merged together and surrounded me whispering to each other in a strange language important secrets. Then the sound took over, there was nothing but sound, it was alive and conscious and I’m inside it. It tears me apart till I’m just… not.
The teenage cyclist that found me curled up on the ground was very concerned, then zoomed off at great speed doing wheelies once id told him I didn’t need an ambulance.
How to stop myself fading away. The epilepsy plays havoc with my memory. I accidentally took money from work, lost my glasses for the umpteenth time, lost my keys, my favourite linocut knife, failed to turn up to the doctors appointment even though it is very important I go. I’m going to try and conquer this chaos with strict order. Yes, I, Miss Roberts, am going to become an ordered person. It is happening slowly. I have blackboards, and note pads and calendar on my phone, pill boxes and diaries, lots of diaries, so when I write one wrong I can check another. Slowly but surely I shall become ordered, in my usual tortoise like way. And decisive, I’ll be decisive! More ironing…
Trial Linocut of a Cyclops by me. I think he’s lucky.