I HAD A CRAZY morning. I noticed I felt a bit hyper and high yesterday afternoon and I went higher in the night and ended up copying out pages of Japanese characters. I couldn't sleep a wink. By the mid-morning my mind was pinging all over the place. If you want some entertainment, go see the post I put up around 11am. My mind was overwhelmed with ideas but I just could not compose myself to compose a coherent post and I was racing so fast I lost track long before fingers on keys could even attempt to keep up. All the while I was running lower and lower on time. Eventually I just had to click "Publish" before I got timed out.
I can't spent long here; I'm going to try and catch up on lost sleep, but I have the distinct impression my sleep has switched poles. Lately my sleep disturbance has grown very extreme. By my calculation I spent more than three quarters of the weekend unconscious. Not just duvet-diving to avoid the world (though I was doing that too) but hibernating in bed, sleeping deeply all through the day ~ and the night as well.
The doctors' surgery annoyed me this morning. I put in my repeat prescription request for my antipsychotics early because I seem to have lost a week's worth of pills. The form came back covered in highlighter pen saying it was far too early and alledging that I must have been bingeing on my own medication. This was signed by a doctor I have never seen and never want to see. When my friend Pinky also registered at this surgery, she was unlucky enough to see this Doctor Arse, as she is called (by me), who saw fit to question the value of prescribing her 750mg of Seroquel XR (which costs about £70 or $100 a pack) when dirt cheap alternatives like haloperidol with its loathesome side-effects cost pennies (and no wonder ~ that's all it's worth). Then she queried Pinky's fentanyl patch with the special dressing that stops it peeling off. Without fentanyl (an extremely powerful opioid analgesic) Pinky would be bedridden and in agony. She needs a knee replacement. Many days she can barely walk.
O man my attention span is still in bits; I forget where I was going with this.
Instead of buying heroin I've been buying CDs (I did buy a tiny bit of heroin but it did precious NOTHING). I got some pretty banging tunes by DJ Tiësto and a weird CD for £1 brand new that appears to be blank (no wonder it was cheap) I also bought Adele 21 thinking it must be good because so many people have bought it (it's outsold Michael Jackson's Thriller in the UK). How wrong I was. I hadn't realized Adele was behind that awful dirge "could have had it better" ~ if I'd known that I'd have gone nowhere near it. I gave it to Pinky and did a good salesman job saying I might detest it, but four million other people can't be wrong. By the way that woman has packed on so very many pounds she managed to go seven months pregnant without anybody realizing ~~ Adele that is, not Pinxx.
Today I bought Madonna's True Blue ~ a real 1986 blast from the past. Plus something called Everything Is Wrong by Moby.
Now what was I going to say?
Yeah I keep getting extreme mood swings. In the last seven days I've been hypomanic at least twice. Plus this morning I had full-on mania. Well it's better than being depressed. I cleaned my toilet with bleach, did the cooker top with shower cubicle spray (pound shop best) and cleaned my sink. My kitchenette is gleaming.
I'm giving the antipsychotics a break. There's nothing wrong with an Elevated Mood. Obviously I'm hoping for more Elevation. I did get fed up of people throwing me funny looks this morning. What a paradox: on no drugs I go highest of all.
Actually, come to think of it, that is completely crazy. How can they call a condition where you don't just feel Better Than Well, but Better Than Ever a psychotic mental disease? That's ridiculous.
Well I've got to go. Sainsbury's are selling Lloyd Grossman for £1 so I got Italianesque gunk called Puttanesca "I love this delicious combination of sun ripened tomatoes [what other kind of tomatoes is there?], black olives and anchovies," he drones. ~~I've got a plate of stuffed mushroom pasta fantasmagoria'd with the stuff. I lost my appetite last week. Which is all to the good. Quetiapine is notorious for turning nutters into great fat wobbling tubs of lard ~ I'm pretty sure I still weigh at least 185lbs (down from 200). I might ~ shock of shocks ~ actually lose a few lbs instead of packing on more pork.
I must dash. Lloyd Grossman's literally calling my name. Ukk ~ OK, not literally; I forgot for a moment there that I'm a schizo. If I did hear voices today they wre so mixed up in the background of bizarreness, it was mere more disquiet drizzled over mass-peculiarity.
These are two of Moby's best tracks. Very good.
PS I actually took a proper shower this morning. Instead of a glorified stripwash. Wow, I must have been feelin' good ☺.
Before you ping away, do go and be entertained by the manic crap I avalanched this morning. BTW in Japanese I was asking, what would you rather be, a little river, a little pig or a little person.
FEELING SO REAL
BRING BACK MY HAPPINESS
top tunes!!
Illustrated: a tub of lard ~ what Seroquel turns you into...
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