Van Gogh and Bull Ants

There was a Dr Who episode where they visit Vincent. He wanders back and forward between pained rejection and bravery, hopelessness and riotous vision. When they spoke of him converting his pain into exuberant color I was already crying like a baby. I have an understanding with Vincent. His condition and gift touch me deeply and I guess I connect to the way his vision tore him apart. Not much touches as deeply as that episode of Dr Who did, bloody Dr Who, who would have thought it.

I am still deeply wrung out and emotional….very rare these days. Hmm maybe giving up smoking and several weeks of flu and bronchitis…nah I am a snag

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Trying to cease heating the house. Since the thermostat in the heater failed I cannot escape the vision in my mind that the benevolent old machine is turning into a fire breathing money munching monster and without some way to assess just how much it is using I cannot make a safe decision. Having some problems finding the right combination of clothes to be comfortable. I am not terribly concerned, it is not that cold and the problem is more that I have not been able to make good choices in what clothing combinations are in the cupboard. When the clothes are right I love the cold and would even rather stick the TV or stereo out in the open plus sleep there as well.

Or so I though until one day I parked my bed under a tree well populated by some very big and cranky ants. Very lucky to be in a tent with excellent zippers that night because there was no way I could leave the tent until the breeze eased and it stopped raining Jumping Jacks (a type of bull ant) anyway, I digress.

Gave up smoking. I remember someone once compared giving up smoking to giving up a heroin addiction. What a load of shit that is! Giving up smoking is a minor irritation and frustration at worst. I have done it a few times and been off smoking for years at a time. No biggy.

The bronchitis cough has almost gone and is little more than the occasional barking noise and heavy chest. It was bad a couple of days back. Could not breathe properly and all the meds did nothing to alleviate the condition. Several hours of being as calm as I could so I didn’t use any more oxygen and make it worse. Terrifying.

Still very weak from all the illness over the last few years but after all this time it will take a while to get some strength back.  Trying desperately to find myself and get a pen to paper or some paint on canvas, have to be a little patient. The few chores this morning, pulled a couple weeds, hung out a load of washing and washed dishes left me tired but it was the kind of tired that felt like it would improve with a nap rather than the desperate bone tiredness that seems to have no conclusion beyond more of the same. Improvement then!

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