dead brains don't dance

Why do I mentally read Oolong tea as Ooloi tea?

In other news, a few days back, one of the cats threw up on (amongst other things) the pig that went to Goole. ramtops took it away to wash while I cleaned up the other deposits on the study switch, shelves, various cables, my desk, my iPod,... The thus enmoistened pig lost its squeak, which would have been a tragedy, but having spent a day or two drying on the rack over the hallway radiator, the squeak is back! Huzzah!!

Oh, and we’re in the midst of a much needed couple of weeks off work. Not much to say: relaxation, too much good food, ramtops made mince pies and sausage rolls (go her!), kalunina here to visit, boozy evening with Pat and Dave WANOLJ, walks in Brissle and around Long Ashton. That sort of thing.

As noted elsewhere, we’re having our usual open house on Sunday night; mail either of us on our LJ addresses if you feel inclined to join us.

My result was too good not to post though:

tamaranth pointed me at LibraryThing‘s UnSuggester, which is an amusing way to spend a few slightly-hung-over minutes of a morning.

What struck me, though, in my off-the-top-of-my-head randomish entries:

Shikasta (1, 4)
sed & awk (2)
Mother London (11, 25)
Always Coming Home (1, 49)
The Many-coloured Land (1, 3)

was the recurrence of The Devil Wears Prada in all my tests and The case for Christ : a journalist’s personal investigation of the evidence for Jesus in all but one.

I’m sure this means something, though I’m unclear exactly what.

Just to let anyone who’s odd enough to actually read this know, ramtops and I are newly returned from our brief jaunt to Edinburgh. There’s no way I’m furtling back through six days of LJ, so there’s a fair chance I won’t see what wonders have filled your lives in that time.

We had a wonderful time in that most beautiful and civilised of cities, catching Paul Buchanan at Usher Hall on the Saturday night; I’ll endeavour to actually write something about what we did at some point soon. Along with the as yet unwritten updates on my eyesight-related interactions with the NHS, involvement with the Long Ashton footpath user group, books read (un-noted since April, FFS), and all other aspects of my vibrant, exciting life.

Please feel free to point me at anything you think I should read.

via lpetrazickis

( SFBC’s Most Significant SF & Fantasy Books of the Last 50 Years, 1953-2002 )

as odd as these lists always are: eg. no Ballard or Aldiss at all, but the Mists of fucking Avalon is there. But hey!

ETA the loved */hated thang everyone else seems to be doing, with melusinehr‘s friend’s suggestion of a # for a couple I loved first time round but, for one reason or another, have lost enthusiasm for.

“In Iraq where this is a growing bipartisan strategy to get our troops home without endangering the security of the American people for this and so many reasons, we urgently need to change our national government from an arena of conflict to a partnership of cooperation.” - Joe Lieberman (Dem Ct)

“Chocolate brown lipstick is one of fall makeup’s trends.” - Oprah Winfrey

“Nobody looks good with brown lipstick on” - Frank Zappa

Thursday night, I went to see the Durutti Column at St George’s. I’d not realised until I read the handout (which, in turn, seems to have been a print of their Wikipedia article) that the misspelling was originally down to a 1961 SI poster. Now, was that carelessness or by design? A distorted reflection or a deliberate Spectacular introduction?

Anyhow, the night opened with Westcott and Rodway who, I must say, and in the absence of much of the audience who only turned up for Vini and friends, were for me the most interesting part of the night. They’re very young, and exhibit their influences in what was, to me, a charmingly naïve way; but what influences! They started with a relaxed soft jazz vibe with William Rodway’s piano sounding uncannily like Steve Miller (no, not that one) with Adam Wescott’s guitar resonating with Jukka Tolonen at his most laid back and pastoral. From there to flamenco, Philip Glass and Penguin Café and more. There was easily enough individuality and promise in there to carry the set off, and I look forward to hearing where they might go from here.

After the interval, Vini Reilly hit the stage, with Bruce Mitchell on percussion and Keir Stuart on bass. They presented in an engagingly laid back way, informing us that they hadn’t rehearsed at all and Vini starting the first song in the wrong key. That could have been irritating and arrogant, but it just felt relaxed and charming. The first few songs were fine, a nicely balanced stream of Mancunian angst above all showing off Mitchell as the very fine drummer that he is, and were followed by Vini swapping his strat for a Les Paul: he told us that it was new, and the song was a bit of silliness they were doing just as am excuse for him to play his new guitar. They launched into a full on British Blues Trio workout, and very fine it was too with the added edge of the archetypal emaciated Factory Records Existential despair survivor as full on guitar hero. Two couples got up and left in the midst of this that I could see (there may well have been others ;), but I must say that I enjoyed the irreverence immensely - as, by the signs, did Vini, Bruce and Keir.

Thereafter, though, things became less satisfactory for me: I was sat in the middle of row B, in direct line of fire for Vini’s guitar 4x12, and that fucker was, for the rest of the set, loud; to the extent that I could barely hear what was coming out of the PA. Vocals vanished, as did (mostly) the bass, and even the drum kit was subdued. As far as I could tell, the music would have been fine if it were even remotely balanced, but balanced is the one thing it was not. How much this was down to the St George’s acoustic (it really isn’t a good venue for amplified music) and how much unfortunate positioning on my part I’m not sure, but it did somewhat spoil what should have been a fine night. A pity.

Well, the neurologist seemed a decent enough chap; at least he didn’t pretend to any knowledge, let alone certainties, that he didn’t have. His general approach was that my Event most likely was MS-related, but that it could also have another cause and could they do some more tests on me?

I turned down the lumbar puncture he offered - there’s no way I’m having one of those unless it’s absolutely necessary. He wasn’t pushing it in any case; it was more in case I was looking for potentially greater certainty of whatever nerve related horrors that might turn up. As ramtops pointed out, even if I had the thing and it turned out to up my probability-of-MS from 50ish% to, whatever, 80%, there’s still fuck all they can do about it.

I consented to the other tests: circulatory tests in my carotid arteries (it seems that stenosis thereabouts could be an alternative cause) and some flashing lights / optic nerve datatap thang to get more data on the state of my myelin sheaths (both to be dealt with at BRI when they fit me in for an appointment), and bloods, to be done straight away by a nurse. Five vials full he took, whilst chatting to me about web development and Tony Hancock, for cholesterol, diabetes, thyroid and Other Things I cannot recall. ramtops did the Hancock joke too when I emerged.

So, more waiting: the doctor said he’d write as each set of results came in, and then call me in for yet another appointment when they’re all in his paws. This will be some time well into 2007 by the probabilities, so I’ll just carry on carrying on largely as though nothing had happened in the mean time.

Phone call from the Eye Hospital today: the neurologist I was booked in to see on 14th December can, it seems, fit me in on Thursday at 2pm.

Ghods know why they picked me to fill their scheduling gap, but I’d rather get this over quickly so said yes. As previously remarked, I don’t expect anything substantive to come out of the appointment, but you never know.

More at the end of the week, if my brain doesn’t burst first or something...