h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

This so needs, if indeed it does not already have one, a proper entry written on it

I was a bit. bleh. last night. hmm, most of yesterday really. pretty much all of today too. Actually. bad bad bad bad boy naughty and... I always hate it when I get like that... its so... and... then of course it affects others and I really don't like that, not at all, not one bit... especially as William had picked up on my being... a bit off and stuff... and so it was making him upset, and, no, I don't want to do that, and shouldn't, and really it doesn't achieve anything, and,
So ended up talking to William a few times, over the day, on the phone. pottering about with the computer, trying to get a few things to work really not easy, with treacle wading chemo-brain though I sort of got some of it to work, but seemed to screw it up again after that

Got Annoyed then, later with lodger, as kitchen was such a mess, and then I couldn't cook, when I needed too, straight away, as it was messy, and so I couldn't clean, let alone steralise it. so I ended up having to have something for dinner I didn't intend, initially to have. and, as I ended up having to eat later, I was so close by then, to some kinda addisonian type thinggy.... brain getting even more foggier, and blood pressure all over the shop, whilst that really really odd feeling, of the sensations of all the blood rushing through my arms/hands.... was getting a bit faint basically, I think too... but I just popped the hydrocortisone in time, and then managed to get food done in time too to balance that out sufficiently
Damn I'm eating way too much. getting so fat must start reducing calory intake soon.... its just getting silly... I must be way over 13 stone now, and I was like 11 stone 12 Lb just back in.... well about january/start of Feb I think and... tbH, could have lost a few more Lb from that.... how else will I ever get into teh 22" corset hmm, actually bet my 28" corset is getting tight on me now not worn that in so long.... hmm.... wonder if the s would be mythed if i turned up in my purple satin corset.... it might.... err.... have an interesting 'push up' affect, on the port in my chest

err.

Baths.

never used to do them.

i only ever shower until... the last few months.

but. oh. wow. that bath tonight.

so so so hot. and so full of 'Products' a fabulus bath bomb water so creamy with goodness and scents and oils no doubt my skin... after that bath

and. one of the gorgeous bath melts rosemary.... I think, frankenscence, sandlewood, and... coconut, and oats, and.... not sure what else in it... smells devine.... oh, and some rose absolute somewher,e, but that may have been the bomb, perhaps

such hot water.... and...

I'd had this bit of cramp.

It kinda ran from the back of my skull, down over both shoulders, and then down my back, and legs, and to my feet.

It went. as soon as I got in the bath





felt...... almost human afterwards.... well, as human as I'm ever likely to feel, really <

washed my hair, with the gorgeous coconut shampoo feels so weird... as it so doesn't feel like my own hair... so thin... and so whispery and short but... there is hair... then the coconut conditioner

and, oddly, really rather needed a shave today... mind, hadn't done a shave for a few days, at first the chemo stuff, was just almost entirely removing the necessity to shave very often, but, some reason, its seemingly growing more now well.... on my chin/face anyhow err.... some areas seem to have been affected more than others.... mind, having such smooth armpits is so cool.... smoother than shaving can ever achieve a pity, I guess that'll grow back there, post-chemo Mind, hair returning elsewhere... will be kinda odd too

Always feels kinda odd washing my hair too now, as I seem to be aware of it so much, as each time does rather seem like it may well be the last for really a long long time, given the massive furr balls still collecting everythwere - I must have just had so much head hair to start with...

felt. so after bathing.

Sat on teh sofa, drank Jasmine tea, and thought about some stuff. Mainly about cracked glass. and broken pavement slabs. but also about summer, and hoping we may still get some this year, and hoping it lasts long enough that I might get to be able to enjoy some of it

Oo. talking of summer.... surely it must be the beer festavil soon, and the strawberry fare hope they don't clash with chemo or radiotherapy whenever that might be

Probably oughta start thinking about stuff I wanna do, need to do post chemo, as its nearing its end soon... Might have to do something real differnt, at some point. just. because. not sure what though. Might even shave all my hair off, if its not all gone, straight after chemo just.... because or... dunno..... Still not entirely sure how likely I'm gona be fit/well enough, or, indeed not in radiotherapy, come August, when I was kinda hoping I might be able... to fly off somewhere... for a while at least

yeh... th ebath zen thing... oughta get an entry on that, if there isn't one.... - I'm thinking my own baths, need 'more'.... scented candles seem logical next, i think, if a little ... dangerous

Oh.

Started writing a new follow-up verion of Night of teh hoover.

This version might be a little surreal.



here's a little taster, from at the start, it probably needs some more work, and more eels:

It spun, dizzyingly, fizzingly, swimmingly, eratically, endlessly.. It twisted and turned. Turning in on itself, folding out, then folding back in on itself again.

Fizzing in and out of memory, out of mind, out of focus, dizzyingly fuzzing and green on the edges, when a fleeting, momentary focus to the inside occured, it revealed nothing but another shift out of focus, another turning in on itself, another fizzingly disturbing folding and re-folding..

never truly out of focus, yet never entirely in focus. Slowly wobbling away with its green fizzingness, and yet then returning again, only to fade more out of focus and reality, just as it seemed to near the point at which it might coalesce into some kind of meaning or shape.

shimmering with a green fuzziness so hot it could burn a hole through a diamond, and yet it continued, or seemed to continue, minutes, hours, days, or perhaps only seconds..
It didn’t gain focus, didn’t lose focus, had no focus and total focus, faded, yet was strong, like a faded washed out reel of tape, whilst as pixal perfect as a high definition computer screen, confusing in its inability to be anything whilst symultainiously being everything, too much, and yet too little..

An endless loop of replayed images, sounds, suggestive feelings and presences of thought, within its dark recesses, so self-contained within itself, yet so distantly separate as to be the final heat of the universe spread out to the extreme reaches of all space. Solid. Not solid. Harnessed by a pure sense of its ownness whilst possessing little structure of form to suggest even as such, what it might be.

The endless incomprehensible metaphors…
Old man Cray…
Morris Semchevsky…
The red eared, sharp eyed barman with the frying pan…..
Potsy, the table, the dreadful makeup on the drag-henchmen…
The spandex clad guitarist… and… and more… so much more besides… So many thoughts, so many pictures, so few answers and so so many questions and endless endless unrealities of the entire memory..

Suggestive, faint moments of time, spatial time within the whole, yet not singularly solid enough to pin anything on. Not that there was, is anything to pin on, its all too green and fizzingly fuzzy at the edges.

Chapter one

I awoke, dizzyingly, in a cold sweat, the surreal and strangely terrifying images of the nightmare already fading. They certainly were strangely terrifying… or was it terrifyingly strange, either way it was surreal and more than a little unnerving at the last count, and the last count was… I couldn't remember, but it was most probably really very very bad whatever the count was…

The memory of the dream faded more, phased in and out, wobbled a bit, kind of did a small summersault, a sort of pirouette, and finally faded to a single low noise of background surrealisms…

Or were they fading? - It never even seemed to be that solid at the time in reality, somehow more solid in dreams than when it was in the ‘reality’ at the time, the time, I didn’t want to go there, it could have been weeks, months, or just days or perhaps only as much time as It takes to organise a small river-side picnic on a loverly warm May day, besides the bankc of the river Cam…
, But in all these years, so many years, why now? Why was it all suddenly flooding back like a barrel of eels slowly tipping over and disgorging its slippery wet contents over a brightly coloured and embroidered Persian rug? I wish it would disgorge itself further, slide off the rug, onto the tiles, the sleek black polished tiles, over the doormat, out of the door, and onwards, never to rear itself again in thought of mind.. But again, the time, was it years ago? Was it a year ago? It certainly seemed to be a considerable time ago, but it all got so fizzingly fuzzy and green around the edges, even when I tried to focus on the exact time, or even location, it’d all happened..

This wasn’t the first dream, no, nightmare about it all, but it was all so green and fizzy, everything fuzzy around the edges; like a sun bleached photograph of a long forgotten childhood holiday, like nothing was in focus, nothing quite solid, all somehow other than it fizzingly appeared to be…

My mind had been playing tricks on me again of late; first there was the girl in the café, so much like Potsy, yet so much more solid. There she had been, innocently serving coffee, jaffacakes, lime chutney, custard creams, salted herring, but doing so in such an utterly terrifying blood curdling manner. But looking back she had that fuzziness, that faded photo like insecurity to her edges, which maybe leant to her a Potsy-like appearance which in reality she didn’t have… No solidness, fuzzy on the edges, like an un-tracked VHS cassette, wobbling the edges of my field of vision, of her vision, of the scene… Or had it just been a result of one night too many up late with my friends Jack Daniels and Jim Beam… It was so hard to tell…

Then there was that bar, just a few short weeks ago. It had started out as the usual thing, meeting a client, but then the barman… His inexplicable metaphors, his unintelligible idle chat, but most of all the stitching on his jacket, which was so so similar to that dimly remembered stitching, I had once seen, which had terrified me so much, emblazoned on the back of a spandex clad guitarist, who was so hell-bent on ensuring his Fender Deluxe Stratocaster has intimate knowledge of the back of my head…

That client had been a proper job, an actual ‘payer’, and BoB knew that I could do with some money coming in for a change, the café, the barman, probably just coincidences, but now with the dreams?

Attempting to make any kind of sense of it all just made me remember more, and the more I remembered, the less it made any sense at all and the less I could be certain of anything, anything at all. Focus too much, and it swims away, like a shotgun firing into an empty potato sack, concentrate too much, and it fizzes, fades, wobbles and distorts… It was always like that though, wasn’t it? Its hard to remember when the act of remembering makes you forget a little more each time, and makes the remainder even more fuzzy and green round its fizzing edges… Like frayed curtains, warn carpets, or like spandex guitarists who hit you over the head with a custom Fender Stratocaster… The henchmen… the hence-drag-act-men… no I didn’t even want to go there, not now, not ever, never… No more thoughts… no more fuzzy-edged memories, no more potsy, henchmen or spandex clad guitarists and their infernal Fender Stratocasters…

Had there even, really been a table?; Did it ever truly exist, in any kind of meaningful, solid way? Or was it just a random collection of pieces of wood?; who’s Momentarily found association merely resembled the form of a table? and had Potsy’s earrings really talk to me? Had I been drugged, or was there just something very definitely odd about the whole case, and Hooverville in particular?

How had it ended? Did it end? Who was nighthoover, had I really met him, what had happened on the tube train? How did I leave Hooverville…

Hooverville? What kind of name was that for a town anyhow, I didn’t even know where it was, and I was sure I’d never heard the name mentioned until that trip now so long in the past.. I’d never seen it on a map, heard of it on the news, in the papers… But it really hadn’t even occurred to me before, not until now, hooverville, where, or perhaps more correctly, what was Hooverville.. I’m meant to be a detective, surely I must have pondered where this horror-inducing town was.. It all made less and less sense, yet again the more I thought of it, the less it existed in my mind..

As soon as I tried to focus on how it had all ended, then the ending just faded, fizzed away faded like the haze over a distant railway line..

I had to stop thinking about it…
I had to clear my mind…
Must try and focus on the present, on the…
On the…

damnit... it shouldn't be this* late nearly 3.30... but my tea is brewed then... I guess I oughta go sleepies bee needs a cuddle... she likes being cuddled, and needs to be comforted.
I got distracted... brain suddenly worked a bit, and I figured out a whole bunch of nonsense with ITunes and the new Ipod thinggy I bought, taht had been.... a wee bit too perplexing to me - guess I can start syncing and copying over some CDs tomorrow... err. by some I mean about 600 I've been needing a new MP3 player for years... seemed a logical time to buy one... I kinda justfied getting it, as a justfied justified expense... like... a final present to myself for 'during chemo' hmm... having said which... two more chemo sessions to go... so... like that's at least two more presents I can buy myself isn't it?
gonna buy a little tomorrow, for meself. seriously. need a wheat pillow heat thinggy.... - its hard to both hold a cup of tea, and drink it, whilst using it to apply heat to one's own abdomin area so the wheat heat thinggy cushion thinggy makes sense I think JL sell the one I want I might buy a new hat too.

I'm thinking a knitted bobble hat. well. I say hat. I think I mean tea cosy really. I can put my ribbons and remaining pony tail through the hole for the teapot spout.

seriously. you know it makes sense. really quite logical.
Must go drink this tea... and then go cuddle bee

Cool old Guy running wild
"Man you can write, completely stunning. Ah here it is: < A87853431 >

I merely had to do some GuideML and a stray punctuation, but man what a story

Glad this comes with a second head, I need it and a few."

I'm sure I can just* about still remember guideML! ... err.... well, I'm fairly sure I still remember HTML... and I seem to recall g GuideML wasn't that* differnt OO.... not totally aweful then? I'm ... supprised I''m just never able to judge such things

Had another epic bath tonight tonight was with the 'Space girl' bath bomb... yeh.... 'space girtl'.... just so* me its all sparkly and spinny and forty in the water, and so

never got a new hat today, but did make it to Lush for more bath bombs and melts and things, and also to JL for the wheat heat cushion thing, which I'm just about to test

so chuffed I made it all the way into town.

I was feeling so totally wrecked earlier. arms, legs, muscles like lead, air and brain like treackle, and everythign aching again, but, just getting some fresh air Mind, did come over a bit.... ungood feeling a couple times in town, at least one pretty much directly due to an identifiable affect of one of the chmeo drugs, making me go all hot and sweaty and faint a bit, and stuff. but I just ... told it to go away and It did eventually actually, wasn't until really really near back to my house, on the way back from town, that I felt real tired, again, on teh way back... almost for a moment had me wondering if I was gona make it ... but... I shouted at my body and told it to obey and it did... until I got home,

Must think about sorting out the next bits of the new nighthoover story.... there are a few more chapters already sort of written, but they need editing so that there is at least some direct spatial line of pxoxmitiy absolutism to the general mish mash of the underlaying metaphores and spandex... or it'll really just not make any sense. - I'm not entirely convinced I got the dancing dogs right, but, maybe they'll pan out eventually, if I can shoe-horn the piano in correctly anyhow

Did the donkey work for you. Strawberry fayre is this Sunday, 3 May.

Beer festival is 18 - 23 May.

Cool old Guy verrry relaxed after some kind of
"Have offered the entry to '<./>ThePost</.>' They will have their best Editors on it to get it into

Well something like that. Guess I will need another to investigate where the first has gone to.

By the way did not see anything bathing related in the nighthoover night story, loads of investigations, no ducks, dugs, swimming little birdys, kind off. "

oo... err... 13 may like this Sunday coming? err... err.... or third as in just been? damn mmy brain I'm not entirely convinced I'll make teh beer festavil this year... I'm a bit tea total right now yeh... serkously

Spend all today with William. It mainly involved cuddling a lot and went to vote, earlier of course.

The staff at teh polling station said they 'recognize' me... damnit. I've even a repuation now at my po9lling station so they all the took the err... thing out of me for a while Must go drink more tea brain all over the place today, shall try return to writing more chapters for the new night ho teh hoover sotry and I think bathing may occur at some point; I think that's in the field with the purple cows. chatper two or three I seem to recall...

Cool old Guy just returned from the showers
"Purple cows seem a nice time for the bath indeed.

No idea when they are going to the post it.

listening to Castercs & Dev - Like a G6

Am at Announcement backlog 14th birthday, sawing backward through the logs. "

Cool old Guy in dark bluegreen
"You are in < <./>ThePost</.> > the post

Well actually we are in the post < A87853558 > am credited as well "