Slow

So I found the brake pedal, no I wasn’t gunning for a medal. I didn’t mean to be that one special, it was ‘they’ who made it official.

The sparks failed to ignite the source, separation not engaging the force, I needed to shred some papers, welcome to the lay to rest some favours.

So set ahead at slow, none on board knows where we go. Into the distance we paddle, and the sun and moon chase each other with or without me.

I can only do what I’ve always done, and be.

D January 2019

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Unplugging

Ok, I know a lot about tech, way more than is good for me. I’ve been headhunted for it and to be honest it’s not a good trade for a bipolar person to be in to. Especially one as paranoid as me.

So I was playing with my new Nintendo 3DS that I treated to myself as a gift for not smoking for 2 months and I noticed it had 3! Cameras on it, a mic an infrared light, as well as WiFi. WTF, I’m here to play Pokémon like the good old days not to be scanned constantly. I have no idea why it needs all this when only one game I know of even uses just 1 of the cameras.

So this led in to all my other devices, and their cameras and plethora of sensors and my phone (which I’m writing this on) my big PC with a permanent power supply for the network socket even when the PC is off, set top TV box, kindle, WiFi radio. From a hackers point of view it’s a goldmine if I was to be a target. Which I have been, I had to delete and disable my test bed external website and email server after some very threatening spam and a hijack that turned my mail server into a spam bot. Fortunately I had the foresight to pick up the chatter and move important services to different email accounts before the escalation. The only thing I may be locked out of is my Nectar account, so score one for the hackers, I have to call Sainsbury’s to regain control of my supermarket rewards points.

Anyway it was a bit of a pain but no irreversible harm done, but I’m annoyed that a convenient email address I used for 8 years with no trouble is now in the dark zone.

So yesterday I started my unplugging program. If it can be unplugged and switched off and the socket taken out it now is. I don’t actually need to be permanently connected to the net to play Kerbal Space Program or play mp3s so there’s no need for it to plugged into router. Just like dial up days, if I need the web or an update, plug in, get what I need and unplug.

The phone and other stuff well not a lot can be done with the WiFi because there’s a gut feeling in me that just because Android says WiFi is off it actually isnt, same goes for roaming data. I have a long winded explanation as to why that is (that I don’t have the time or energy to explain) but it follows ‘there ain’t no such thing as a free lunch’. Still cameras that don’t get used are now taped over (it’s good enough for Mark Zuckerberg) and mics to. As I know speakers reversed are mics, innocuous devices like TV and radios that have WiFi in them are unplugged and pulled out the socket.

So am I off grid and desperately lonely. No, this may be paranoid behaviour to some but, unplugging everything before bed was a ritual my grandfather did and he was always bitching about my wiring. Who knows, maybe he knew of the ‘spy in the cab’ even then.

The last couple of days I’ve barely used the net other than a couple of things on the this phone. Which now gets turned off at night which is a half way measure. I’m not going completely luddite.

I have really enjoyed my vinyl though and basking in hack free analogue experience of just the turntable and amp. I have a large collection of radios to, including a Decca from the 40s I’m repairing to the latest Tescun digital analogue SW hybrid.

I fear that the generation behind me think they will enter some kind of digital Nirvana. And privacies don’t matter. Privacy is a birthright, and as someone with mental health problems and dealing daily with people who quite rightly want to know what’s going on in my head on the other hand it is actually ok for me to say there are some thoughts I tell no one. We all do, despite this digital invasion into our daily lives.

As the Prodigy lyrics go;

“Now the writings on the wall, it’s an omen, you just run the automations…”

I say your mind is the analogue computer, your body it’s interface with reality. Which begs the question, is analogue dead yet?

Peace D

Never quit, quitting…

For the probably 20th time I’m on the wagon with the cigarettes. 42 hours on, so far and only one smoke when someone in the household really stressed me this morning. I’m using patches and mouth spray because I’m so horribly addicted to nicotine but as the hours go by I’m using the spray less. I may just make it.

I was inspired by the fact that my daughter is now old enough to work out why I have to keep ‘popping’ outside. Also I reduced my pain killers for my AS from 30mg of codien to 8! According to my doctor that’s pretty hardcore as codien is harder to get off than heroin and they become ineffective against pain after 6 months anyway (well the pain is shifted to a different area of the brain) Still she said there’s thousands of people addicted to zapain all over the country. I now use ice packs for instant pain relief. It works!

My sense of smell has already improved and I’m breathing easier, I was a real heavy smoker and sometimes you just have to go for it because there is always an excuse not to quit.

As for my coffee … Hands off! That’s my last refuge of addiction.

Peace D

Between you and me….

It is not worth remembering, the way you moved the walls, bent the halls, stood so tall… Over me.

I know you can lash out at any time and make me know pain, from insane to sane and back again. Your credentials hold but I do not wain.

I’m heading straight to fortress, the trees make my buttress, you can scorch the land, turn my body to sand…

… But you don’t see my old man watching me from up there, bringing me peace and making it fair.

Keep your faith rooms, while I’ll just keep the faith.

D November 2018

Walk

I have to walk the talk, but when I get there my lips remain shut.

Who am I to shatter the ambivalent nature of my rut.

In densely packed woods I can let out a quiet sigh, just maybe this once I have outrun the spies.

The mud here is perfect for a shallow grave, if they come, but just watching the flailing of my mind is good enough for some.

I put my head against the tree, old oak, older than me. This how I know you don’t need eyes to see.

And in the distance the bark of a dog … I have to walk the talk … Just to lose myself and drive myself out of town with a pitch fork.

D November 2018

Will the real D please stand up

OK I’ve realised I can no longer go round posting pictures of myself online from a decade ago so here’s a warts n all selfie.

Yes finally hairs starting to gray and looks like a cloud has settled on my head (will have to brave the torture of the barber soon; “so where did you go for holiday sir?”, “the mental hospital!”). All the midnight munching has led to a slowly growing second chin but hey at least my bhudda belly is out of shot.

There’s a vague smile, well that’s me being ‘stable’ allegedly. And yes I’m wearing my comfy fleece because yeah you know I really care about fashion.

I may have a lot of problems in my life, especially health wise but I will always bet optimistically truthful about what I am.

So this is real…

D

Home

Won’t you take me home, sick of being alone.

I don’t live in this dry wall block, I’m not just average stock.

… But then I’m nothing special and I deserve more than this, with my head resting on your fist.

My home has clouds and mountains, not badly maintained monument fountains.

Sick people coughing their lungs on the clock tower steps, pigeons, dust and litter unswept.

Take me home, maybe I should be alone.

Bracing the wind on the cliffs, my life in my hands and not yours.

D September 2018

Accept

I need proof of my existence like I need a bullet to the head.

For all I know this is all a dream and the whole world is already dead.

I’ll float in this spiral of empty essence, spinning in infinity,

There’s no book in the world to prove my heritage and divinity.

How the hell are you ever going to understand my insanity?

When you don’t even accept yours….

D September 2018

Dave (and Other Girls); Work continues.

So as I focus myself on my writing I’ve reread the first 5 chapters I have of ‘Dave’, it’s characters, scenes and plots and feel the slow creep of inspiration. So many ways this could go.

I posted the first chapter on my blog months ago, link below if ur interested. The chapter I’m currently dealing with deals with an attempted suicide by one of the crew, a dark place I know about but never crossed. I think it’s good to get these ideas out of me, for me it’s not profiteering from misery but a cleansing process that normalises a deep dark set of emotional trauma for me. Will I include that chapter in the finished article… Well let’s see if I finish it first.

Peace D

http://bipolarbycola.blog/2018/04/30/dave-and-other-girls/