Ow fuck ow

The joys of dissociative painkilling #1

It allows me to sit here and type with my right hand while my left shoulder gibbers and mouths obscenities at me through a sheet of analgesic plate glass. Goddam it hurts. Ironically, it doesn't seem to have been carving out 6 cubic feet of bedrock with a crowbar that did it, but instead sitting at a desk fiddling with Sharepoint. Or maybe avoiding the 4-wheeled fucker that nearly pasted me against the railway bridge on the cycle ride home. Anyway, after a sleepless night that left me looking like a RAGE victim, completely with bruise where I rubbed my eye too viciously, I caved in and got some codeine and now feel human. I felt ok between miles 1 and 7 on an 8-mile run last night - yay endorphins and finally getting off my arse to do it - then the happy chemicals wore off, and the ibuprofen I'd taken two hours earlier started burning a vomitous hole in my stomach lining.

Ibuprofen bad, codeine good, m'kay?

The joys of dissociative painkilling #2

My brain actually shuts up and starts working at a normal-person speed. Instead of its constant blehblehbleh, it becomes generally empty with the occasional fairly significant feeling thought drifting through. Maybe like meditation - I've never sat still long enough for it to work. Yoga sort of works, as does gardening, as the physical movement seems to derail some of the nervous energy enough to let my thoughts be actually useful and well-paced, rather than bashing themselves against my skull like amphetamine crazed mosquitoes.

Maybe if I had less thoughts, I'd talk more. Maybe I'm just not that into talking. I'm probably beyond the age of changing that significantly. Anyhoo, in other news, I remembered I have many fab gigs lined up this year. Grinderman, Eels, Skinny Puppy AND Crystal Castles. And a Wonka themed Judder. Rawk. And my shoulder is pain free enough to be able to mash up Prodigy and Sergio Leone on my decks :)

Ow fuck ow

The joys of dissociative painkilling #1

It allows me to sit here and type with my right hand while my left shoulder gibbers and mouths obscenities at me through a sheet of analgesic plate glass. Goddam it hurts. Ironically, it doesn't seem to have been carving out 6 cubic feet of bedrock with a crowbar that did it, but instead sitting at a desk fiddling with Sharepoint. Or maybe avoiding the 4-wheeled fucker that nearly pasted me against the railway bridge on the cycle ride home. Anyway, after a sleepless night that left me looking like a RAGE victim, completely with bruise where I rubbed my eye too viciously, I caved in and got some codeine and now feel human. I felt ok between miles 1 and 7 on an 8-mile run last night - yay endorphins and finally getting off my arse to do it - then the happy chemicals wore off, and the ibuprofen I'd taken two hours earlier started burning a vomitous hole in my stomach lining.

Ibuprofen bad, codeine good, m'kay?

The joys of dissociative painkilling #2

My brain actually shuts up and starts working at a normal-person speed. Instead of its constant blehblehbleh, it becomes generally empty with the occasional fairly significant feeling thought drifting through. Maybe like meditation - I've never sat still long enough for it to work. Yoga sort of works, as does gardening, as the physical movement seems to derail some of the nervous energy enough to let my thoughts be actually useful and well-paced, rather than bashing themselves against my skull like amphetamine crazed mosquitoes.

Maybe if I had less thoughts, I'd talk more. Maybe I'm just not that into talking. I'm probably beyond the age of changing that significantly. Anyhoo, in other news, I remembered I have many fab gigs lined up this year. Grinderman, Eels, Skinny Puppy AND Crystal Castles. And a Wonka themed Judder. Rawk. And my shoulder is pain free enough to be able to mash up Prodigy and Sergio Leone on my decks :)