Marginally Less Parasitical

I thought about jumping from the top storey. I told my doctor about my impulses. Hospital was mentioned but I resisted. In the end I emerged from the doctor’s with extra meds. Doctor S has perused The Mail on Sunday article and had been as disturbed by it as I was. ‘For what it’s worth, I think Daily Mail journalists are only marginally less parasitical than the drug addicts and the alcoholics the newspaper is targeting.’ His words, not mine. Make of that what you will.

And The Mail on Sunday…

…excels itself once again. My response: (which won’t be printed)

I receive supplementary disability living allowance* for a psychiatric disorder but I’m sure those principled, compassionate journalists at The Mail On Sunday will be pleased to learn that I am saving up for a one way trip to Dignitas. Perhaps they’d like to accompany me there to see a job well done. Thanks for reminding me that I’m not wanted. The Nazis had a policy called Aktion T4. Perhaps that should be the next step. We must deal with these people. (Myself included, of course). Grab your torches and sharpen your pitchforks, people, we’re going on a witch hunt. What fun!

DLA was originally introduced by the Tories with the intention of saving money. It was also a key feature of their care in the community policy. ** It was intended to keep people out of long term psychiatric facilities. If the Mail on Sunday have their way and this benefit is withdrawn then its recipients will probably face a life in institutions which, incidentally, will cost far more than the taxpayer is currently paying.

Of course, there is another alternative: government sponsored work placement schemes but these will never be implemented because they too cost far more than DLA.

Meanwhile I cling to this:

The woods are lovely, dark and deep

But I have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep

And miles to go before I sleep

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost

*It really helps if, on a whim, the hospital in which you are incarcerated (AKA Section Three) decide to perform an EEG on you which detects ‘abnormalities’.  Most people aren’t so lucky.

**And, my God, they’ve got a nerve.

A Planet Aflame/Drowned World

Monochrome People

More Shopping

Retro 1950s American ‘phone.  (John Lewis).

After the Rain

Self Portrait

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Self Portraits, originally uploaded by Bella the Cat.

(New Camera: Panasonic Lumin DMC-FZ18)

Becoming Human

Gloved hands fluttering
Like navy blue bats
An ice sculpture
With red-gold hair
And wide eyes
Stepping from the canvas
I have been working
On her all day
And still she is only half way
To becoming human

The Insomniac – Writing About Myself in the Third Person

She could stay awake all night if she had to. The darkness enveloped her, suffocated her. A black gloved hand over her face. She gazed out of the window into the blueblack sky. The stars were on vacation. Her heartbeat sounded like the Gods pounding on some huge drum. She could feel her own body as it slowly decomposed. This was death in the midst of life. Something or someone more powerful than her had taken control, had seized her autonomy away from her. She was afraid that if she fell asleep she would never wake up. She felt exposed, her innards visible to some great God. Her bones rattled. She was disintegrating. Delusions fought with one another in her head. Oblivion had never been so far away.

Edit: Finally, some good news. A parcel just arrived containing a novel I have been after for ages. Le Sang Des Autres (The Blood of Others) by Simone de Beauvoir. I read it years ago before it went out of print. Watch out for a review if I can be bothered.

Magical Worlds