It was a fucked series of dreams and I woke early. I had a shower and with calm reminded myself ghosts of the past can hurt you but only if you let them.I'm not going to rev on horror dross. I am not going to re-live the fucked things done to me.I'm going to read and do joyful things that remind me that I am still here despite the best efforts of others.I'm still alive; that's a baseline win and everything on top of that is yet more winning.I got bullied inside then outside of the womb.
Articles from Harrangue Man
It was the off-week for re-cycling so what's in the bin had to be smooshed down so more would fit. On doctor's orders I am wearing short shorts to prevent thigh chafe and inner boils but if the shorts slide past my waistline then they can drop past my arse if they slip.I had the recycling box on its side as a compression ram and was shunting it down when my short shorts wobbled past the line, fell and exposed me to the rest of the street.But it's the middle of a work day and no one is around.
As a person who had to do presentations I'd practice them in the car or in the shower as part of my working life.
The other day I woke up to the sound of theboy angerscreaming. He gets himself to school in the mornings and I presumed one of the actions he had to do had fucked up and he'd cooked off. With fear I left the room but could not find him. I guessed he'd yell-screamed on his way out the door then tromped off. I was worried he was upset, teary and anger storming to school. I texted to let thewife know what happened just in case he got to school still upset.
I have on my hutch a MR. HAPPY book still in its plastic wrapper to cover up the remains of an '80s sticker that I had peeled off but I could not remove the final part of—a pair of Village of the Damned eyes staring right at me when I rode my exercise bike.It wasn't until I used official Blu-Tack with a ball at each corner of the wrapper and pressed long and hard that the MR.
It's a windy day the the nation's capital and like a dickhead I thought I'd risk an outside ride anyway, at power one for penultimate non-assist.Things I learned.Squint and close lips when going under a bridge because there will be grit; I can still taste it.Just because you're over one hundred kilos and your bike is a man trike does not mean you can resist wind; I was nearly blown sideways into a lane divider.Gum trees drop branches in heavy wind and other trees can lose theirs too.
We live off on an arterial road and it means we get traffic noise.In Oz, and indeed in many places, there appear to be those that re-tool their vehicle so they become louder.We call them "cock-spanks on patrol" because they drive or ride their vehicles about to inflict noise because it makes them feel better.Unfortunately to someone whose shed backs onto the road it means I enjoy their presence more than most.I wasn't even in the shed when the chopped motorbike or de-muffled ute went past but
With my not being in a normal, high-stress job means my dairy allergy has passed; I can eat cheese again.Pizza is a thing I missed since it is basically a cheese-delivery vehicle and therefore I enjoy pizza now.That is, when I can pick up a slice and transfer it to a plate or my mouth.My anxiety was up so my PTSD was up and my hand tremours were up.That's how it came to be I lost a slice of the meat pizza to the kitchen floor.