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30 Oct 2011

Post 314: Hating feeling like I'm now an object of disdain.

In the last six years I have always been looking for signs or signals that the post stroke me isn't someone who gets looked on with disdain which is a good reason not to internet date because no matter how many people appreciate my honesty there are a majority of others who just ignore you 'the silent majority' and trust me when I say that people ignoring you when you try talking to them is the most soul destroying thing in the world. In real life it's awful, online it is bad, especially for someone who was never used to being ignored. I don't arrogantly think I should just deserve attention, I just don't believe in being rude to someone, unless they're bloody rude first or there's good reason or perhaps being ignored as often as I do doesn't feel right given the effort I make, but f*ck it, the world's never been fair. I accept that, I'm not an idiot. However, it's always best if no-one's rude, I'm neither a pacifist or an apathist, I'm certainly not a happy-clappy moron who thinks 'we should all just be friends' – I just believe in not expending one's energy wastefully, something particularly true since my stroke robbed me of most of mine. Anyway my point was that if anyone bothers to invest their energy in communicating with you – doing a Madonna,
Naomi Campbell,
Simon Cowell
or Elton John
is never acceptable. Have some bloody manners! Anyone who behaves like they're too important or above you should just be flung off the planet. Like the other day when Claudia Winkelman
said she would ignore anyone that used an exclamation mark. What a dreadful tw*t of a thing to do! I feel sadder already! There I go again. I deserve to be shunned. Stranger things have happened – I read the other day on someone's dating profile that they had decided to give it a go because a friend had selected someone's husband from an online profile just from the fact that he had used an apostrope correctly. As someone who writes ok English (Probably). I still don't seem to have a chance because physically, I am obviously a letdown. That said the signals that have given me heart in a gig-free week (not including last weekend) have been about how people who I have met since my stroke have made the effort to come and see me. Even though I can never be the most fun bloke in the world to spend time with, which implies I once was: NOT TRUE; FACT, my mate Rachel took advantage of the fact it was half term to take a break from being head of Physics
at the new school she is teaching at near St Albans to come down and do lunch in her former Pizzeria in Leatherhead, the rather excellent Prezzo. I know Pizzas aren't on the diet approved list but getting to see Rach is a special occasion. The new job sounds good for her but it's sad she's no longer up the road. It sounds exciting for her and her other half Matt that
they're buying a place together near St Albans, Oh for that sort of normality! My comparative news (it's not really comparable) is that my new housemate who's going to do my weekend housekeeping/caring who's moving in in early December has just got herself a job in town during the week which is precisely the way it's supposed to work. Nice one B! In other good news, the Mauritian couple (Jean-Michel and Annelise)
who used to live here came to see me yesterday and we had a good chat and laugh about life, the universe and everything and we even had a rather good Thai takeaway meal in the evening. Again, as they've only ever known me since my stroke, they seemed so pleased to see me, I think I can't be all bad. That is reserved for how I feel in myself.
In an example of how concert going and organising is supposed to work, my oldest friend, Dom Icely
mailed me and offered his driving skills and company if I get tickets for the mighty Orbital
playing at the Albert Hall
in April next year, (tickets I have just got, yay) I don't know if Orbital playing at the Albert Hall sounds mental to anyone else but I'm all for it! It'll be immense. Considering the last thing I saw there was the extraordinary Carmina Burana
last Saturday, Orbital might be a bit different! I've now seen Carmina Burana 4 times, 3 with my parents and it is pretty amazing, one of the most eccentric and schizophrenic pieces of music in existence, yet it is about as powerful as music gets. There's a vast choir (>400 voices) Some of it's in Latin, some's in German, some's in Portuguese, there's a solo from a counter tenor too, a guy who sounds like he was a tenor until someone castrated him. A soprano has to sing so high that she's in dog hearing territory – I reckon the composer, Carl Orff was having a laugh, and seeing what he could get away with, but the chorus takes the roof off, and seeing as my parents have sung it before, they are the natural choice to take me.
How much they love these concerts is as worthwhile as taking people who've never seen the Albert Hall before. On Sunday I made a discovery, that I need to go to the New Victoria Theatre in Woking more often because it's rather convenient and rather splendid for stand up comedy.
It was the Third time I've been to see Reginald D Hunter
and his brand of laid-back observational philosophy is always intelligent and funny. As per two of the times I've seen him the first half was done by the brilliant Steve Hughes whose observations about the world border on genius, I can't do justice to how brilliant he is here. I always suggest that people download an audio version from itunes of his stand up material 'Heavy Metal Comedy'.
Not mincing words, it is some of the funniest stuff I've ever heard! I don't know how Reg can follow him. So after Steve's brilliant comic deconstruction of much of the worlds political structures Reg spends an hour just talking to the audience about how the world would be a better place if women didn't give men such a hard time. Now, there might be some feminists who disagree with this, I'd like to respectfully disagree with them. Reg works from the premise that Man and Woman are happier together, something I totally agree with – and he gives a list of funny examples of how women make the relationship harder than it could be. I like this sort of cerebral observational totally non-confrontational material(unlike say Dylan Moran who says essentially the same thing in the style of an aggressive drunk irish pub philosopher). Reg is almost horizontally laidback when he talks, so there were people saying they were 'a bit disappointed' on the way out. I restrained myself from saying, 'well go and see f*cking Lee Evans'
who as we all know is comedy for thick people. Admittedly it is well done but if you like to see a small cockney monkey play an imaginary drumkit while sweating and gurning you should get into hard house. I continue to do what I think is the right thing by my friends and family and even people I haven't met yet so I can squeeze the best quality of life I can out of this shitty world. Finally, finally, a few weeks ago I went to the funeral of an old family friend, Ian King-Holford – apparently there was a memorial service for him a couple of days ago and for starters there was no access to the church – they never mentioned disabled access in the bible! And the church was too packed for me to even have had anywhere to even park – anyway, I clearly made it on the right day, the reason I bring it up is that I hope when the time comes I have a similarly well attended memorial.Her he is pictured with his widow, the formidable Jinks and their adopted daughter, and my now good friend Rosie.
The thing that gets me is that this post is yawn-inducingly long and I still haven't had the chance to thank all the people I want to and how middle class does this blog make me? It's basically one continuous public thankyou letter and what defines being middle class? Bloody thankyou letters! Someone the other day actually accused me of not being grateful. I was more than furious, because I have always been grateful, perhaps not so good at writing thankyou letters, I'm always either specifically or generally grateful because I'm really not stupid or arrogant enough to not know that I can't survive without help, as pathetic as that sounds.

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