Greatest Living Jazz Pianist

The artist, Jessica Williams, is brilliant.  She is my favourite living pianist.  Incredible technique, amazing improivsational skills and stunning compositions.  Her website is www.jessicawillams.com  Her's a youtube link to one of her beautiful pieces that helps keep me out of the mental hospital.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0FgZtkPI4Y


When I listen to her I think of Rachmaninov, Bill Evans and other brilliant artists that went before her.  But she is unique.

Thanks Ms Williams.

Up again with Tina Fey & Mel Brooks

Annie Leibovitz took this pic, I think, of Tina Fey for Vanity Fair.  I admire both women. I suspect AL is BP too, from what I've read about her spending habit, sounds like it could be so.

I'm still a bit zonked, spoke to pharmacist this afternoon, and decided to cut back the Epilim a little. Watched Mel Brooks' Producers last night and laughed out loud heaps.  Went walking today and caught up for coffee with a lovely positive pal in the morning and another one in the afternoon.  

Got 30 Rock out from the DVD store.  Tina Fey is a genius.  Plan a lot more laughing tonight. Things aren't so bad now, feeling better :-)

Piano and a massage

The suicide fantasies continue.  I am such a bore with all of this.  I would love to talk to someone about it but really, who wants to hang with someone who is so depressed?    I rang up Lifeline the other night because I needed to talk to someone and the poor guy had to refer to his manual to try to help me.  He was literally leafing through pages to try to find someone who could help me.  He couldn't.  I felt sorry for him - so I lied and told him I felt much better now, thanks to him.    How do you explain that you want to kill yourself because you are just 'over' being bi polar anyway.  I made a donation to Lifeline the next day.

Amnesty rang me on Thursday, they wanted to tell me all about PNG and the violence against women. I told them I'd worked in PNG and was aware of the issues but the lady continued, "but did you know domestic violence isn't a crime there?"   etc. etc.  In the end I had to tell her I'd worked in humanitarian aid for twenty years and was across many of these issues, but I increased my meager monthly donation anyway.  So their telemarketing worked.  I did ask her to only send me things electronically.  I'm happy to give money to worthy causes but I'm depressed enough as it is without reading about more torture and starving people on my couch.  I usually just bin all the brochures anyway.  I've met many torture survivors and starving families with children over the years to know how bad it is for half the world.

Funerals

The funeral for the woman I knew who killed herself last week was held yesterday.  I really wanted to go but my family convinced me not to.  They don't get it.  It would have been a strong reminder of why I shouldn't do it too - the grief it leaves behind.  That's not a fair thing to do to anyone you love.

PIANO

I saw my remedial masseuse today.  I took a Jessica Williams CD with me to play instead of the massage music..  He loved it.  Of course, who wouldn't?  Being under 30 he asked me to burn him a copy.  So he gets paid but the musicians have to work for free?    I like him though, he has a gentle soul.

June 25 heading down to Zombieland and Kevin Rudd

My meds have turned me into an emotional zombie.  Need to cry but can't.

We have a new  Prime Minister, a socialist and our first female PM.  I'm glad about. that. I lived in the UK under Thatcher I was there from 1979 - 1996.  Mrs Thatcher is an extreme capitalist, and a gargoyle.

I'm annoyed wuth the ALP because our old PM even with all his faults, was a decent man.  The way he was ousted was disgusting.  It was a shameful day in Australia's political history.

My most proud day, in terms of Patriotism, was the day our ousted PM apologised to Indigenous Australians

Bye bye Mr Rudd and thanks.

So she killed herself

Yesterday I found out that an intelligent. warm, creative, charming, attractive woman I know, took her own life.  Same age as me.   I always knew we had much in common.  Now I see we had even more in common than I realised.

It was winter solstice yesterday.  Good day for suicide.

I have been spending a lot of time considering the implications of ceasing to exist.  It becomes more attractive as I age.  I have argued with my shrink about it.  If you had cancer and were in so much pain that couldn't be ended, then people would more likely understand your desire for euthanasia, but suicide for depression is a bigger taboo. That's not fair.

These daisies are for Jemma


I'm very sad about  Jemma who is now dead,  But, I'm also a little envious,  if I am honest.

I'm heading downwards at present.   Down, down, down, down.  May get too low to write.  We'll see if the blog helps.

Boys & Toys - garden destruction

We have trees where I live. Lucky me.  A small strip down the side of our apartments.  Some of the trees formed a lovely green canopy over the driveway and made the place feel quite green and private.  There was a sturdy old avocado tree that the lovely local possums had managed to kill, sadly, by eating every leaf and new green shoot on it. Still it was old with a very sturdy, safe trunk of about 1.5 metres diameter.  As it no longer grew leaves about 7 years ago I planted some jasmine at the bottom of it,  possums don't like jasmine.  It had grown over the years to almost replace the canopy of leaves, providing shade to the dwellers in the first floor flat, which is handy in a town with 43 C days, and it provided a place for small birds to nest.  And of course that divine smell and flush of white flowers.  Divine.

Further along the drive are other trees which I 've worked  hard to keep alive during the 7 year drought by bucketing grey water on to them.  Good exercise for me.  Happy green trees. There was, I admit, one dead gum tree that the birds liked a lot. Also killed by possum eating.  It was good for spotting the few native birds that still hang around this part of the city.

Our Body Corporate, who manage our units, ran an OH and S survey and it was found that some of the foliage was an obstruction -  a leaf could fall on someone's head, thus disfiguring them for life - we could then be sued, all of us, the owners.  I reluctantly agreed to let them trim the foliage.

I awoke early one day during the week to the sound of half a dozen young men playing Texas Chainsaw Massacre on the trees.  They didn't trim them, they ripped them apart. I protested enough to save a few spindly trunks.  Too late I fear. What is it about boys and toys?  Do you think they would be so destructive if we still were hunters and collectors?  I think not.

I will plant more things.  Meanwhile the garden strip looks about as appealing as Kabul in winter.

I want to be alone

Tired, corker of a headache but I put off bed.  I find lying in bed hard at these manic times, the drugs help me sleep  - eventually - but the thoughts in my head going a million miles per hour it seems, and so complicated, great ideas, artistic ventures, some of them really good I know.  They would work even f I wasn't manic - but the depression that will soon follow the mania will stop them happening.  Being alone with my crazy thoughts - not good.  Being awake, alone and doing stuff - much better.

Also lying awake - that's when my suicidal fantasy intensifies - too boring to go into.  But tempting.

I really want to be totally alone for a few weeks so I can do arty stuff.. I share a house.  This is good, and not good. I want TOTAL privacy.  I don't want  anyone to know when I'm awake or what I might be doing.  I may feel like painting, writing or playing piano at 3am.  I can't do it because I might worry the person I live with that I'm really sick again.  My piano playing when I'm manic is not what one would call accessible music.  Although I love playing it. Sharing a premises stifles my creativity, but also keeps me in check.  I'd probably be permanently disabled and claiming a pension if I lived on my own (by now) and I would hate that too.  Compromise.  Mental health.  Fuck.

My cat is chucking a tantrum, he wants me to come to bed.  At least I'm desirable.

Go Ghana - win the world cup please!

Six pairs of high heels and lots of makeup. I packed these things to take to an extremely impoverished west African country of Ghana in the 1980s. I had never been to a lesser developed nation before. There had been a coup not long before I arrived. I didn't need my heels. I was with my friend Sal. We walked everywhere, there was no public transport and the only other honkies we saw were in embassy cars. Sometimes the few white people we saw in cars would stop to offer us a lift. I remember asking a Lebanese guy who drove us back from the beach why he didn't stop to offer a local woman carrying a heavy package a lift. He said: "Don't be ridiculous".  I thought he was mean.

I remember meeting a white woman and her younger Ghanain companion on the beach. She was a Brit and wore far too much heavy gold jewelry. They made Sal and I an offer of a free trip to Bolivia if we would collect a suitcase for them. In fact they tried very hard to persuade us.

We said no, because we had never heard of Bolivia before and it didn't sound very exciting. I was so naive in those days. I am a little less naive now.

I fell in love with Ghana, to date it is my favourite African country. I plan to go back there, but I fear it would have developed a lot since my last trip. I was manic when I was there and did some extremely dangerous things, like refusing to bribe the guy in customs blowing him a kiss instead, when he asked me to give him something.

I was there because I was 'in love" with a very handsome Ghanain young man who turned out to be an importer of drugs. He sent me there, but he didn't join me. He ended up in jail. I could have too but that's another long long story. His name was Daniel, and I still remember his beautiful face and sexy voice. All my gay friends had the hots for Daniel. He was a total arsehole. But that is another story. Wherever Daniel is, I hope he is happy and being nice to whomever he is with. He was charming but misguided.


I hope Ghana wins the world cup. Africa needs that winning feeling most.

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My baby just cares for me

So, I'm a cat lady.

I'm obsessed with my boy, he is been a faithful companion - for nearly 14 years now. He survived cancer - which the vets say is a miracle. They call him the miracle cat, in fact.

Here is a picture of my man, tucked up under my quilt.

 It cost me more than my piano to fix him. That's a lot of dollars. The survival stats for cats with cancer are around 6 months to 2 years maximum wth treatment. My baby was sick about five years ago. I paid for the best treatment available. He's still here, healthy as ever before.

 I love my baby, when I'm sick he is always at my side.  My baby just cares for me.

To be or not to be: blah blah blah

Fighting bi polar sucks. At the moment I want the luxury of sinking into madness. I long for the hospital I stayed in once in the 1990s in the UK. I was free to be mad there. It was very expensive and I could do as many crazy/arty things as I wanted. Food was good too. It was in a beautiful old mansion near Reading. I was by no means the sickest person there, they said, but pretty close I think. When my money ran out I went to Maudsley in South London. OMG what a depressing place, crikey if you weren't mad when you went there you would be soon afterwards.

This week has been hard, hard, hard. Work is a nightmare. High stress levels which really help a person fighting off a full manic episode. I'm back on mood stabilisers again, they add kilos and turn you into an emotional zombie. Great life quality.

I have a compelling urge to cut my throat. I don't feel deeply depressed. I just feel sick of dealing with Bi Polar. I haven't felt such a strong urge to end me for as long as I can remember. But you can't. Too selfish for family and friends left behind. Loved ones of suicides are 9 times more likley to suicide apparently, and so the legacy would continue. I love my family and friends too much to do that to them. But I resent it.

I pretend at work sometimes that I suffer from migraines, so people think the reason I am so vague or aggressive is because of that. I once outed myself at another work place and it was a MASSIVE mistake. If you have a mental illness outing yourself is a complete and utter mistake. No matter what the OHS policy is, people use it against you and are constantly looking for evidence of your illness. So my advice, after 35 years of living with mental illness is don't tell your work colleagues. NONE of them.

I won't kill myself tonight. I wish I could sleep though. I have taken valium and stillnox and here I am, awake and zombied out.

Animal Kingdom movie

Went to see this today with my lovely clever friend, Sam.  This is movie making at its very best. Well crafted script and characters, casting director should get 10 gold stars, all this with an edge-of-your- seat suspenseful plot.

The film is chilling and plausible I do hope it does well outside of Australia, it deserves BAFTAS, Oscars, and Golden Globes, well at the very least a decent international audience.

I think my favourite scene is when the matriarch (Jacqui Weaver) is casually seated at the kitchen table, dunking her teabag as the cops drag out her boys.

I'm planning to see it again in a week. I haven't seen such a strong film for a very long time. Well done all.

Sam said it was like a Shakespearean tragedy.  I agree.

Sleepless in St Kilda

Being Bi Polar, it's hard to know whether one's sleeplessness is a warning of a manic period coming on - it usually is. Or if it is just stressful things on the brain. If I don't get enough sleep I will become manic. This I know. I find if I am 'good' and take all the drugs that my doctors prescribe for those times, and that do indeed turn me into a very boring person, then I won't have a manic episode.

Oh, but manic episodes can be lots of fun. I do miss them. They are also, unfortunately, extremely dangerous for a variety of reasons. Google: if you want to know more.

I have Bi Polar 1. In Mania I have taken some extremely big risks so it is remarkable that I am still alive and not homeless or incarcerated or locked up in a looney bin. I am certainly entitled to be in a pschiatric hospital but I am very good at managing my illness most of the time. I've had more than 30 years practice. Sometimes, however I would just like to give in to it and let everyone else do the worrying. But I won't do that. Too hard on friends and family.

I have a senior job in Government now, and although people do say I am a "creative type" they have no idea I'm Bi Polar. The world is not ready for outing real Bi Polar people in industries other than the arts, anyway. So I shall not be outing myself anytime soon. At work I hear offensive jokes about Bi Polar people: anyone difficult may be jokingly labelled that way. I think this is what it must have felt like to be gay before it became acceptable to be open about our sexuality at the work place. People making nasty jokes about gays and lesbians yet they still do that anyway, morons.

I find myself frustrated that Bi Polar is becoming the new black, if you get my drift. Many people have told me they suffer with Bi Polar, but sometimes I believe they have self diagnosed and are probably just depressed, which is bad enough, but Bi Polar is a life sentence and it annoys me that it's now almost cool so people are claiming they are, when they clearly aren't. It makes me want to punch somebody, but I'm not sure who.

An old friend is good to talk to about it, and he's cool he's an artist in London, We chat during our  Scrabble games on Facebook. We have both had very difficult times in our lives, he's seen me at my craziest and yet he still likes me! Thanks Ron! You make me smile. Ron is a very gifted artist. I love his work.  He should be raking in dough. He is quite brilliant.

I have three of his paintings above my bed. He did a series of differnet shoes based on mythological gods. Some of the shoes are a bit risque and many of them are very funny. I treasure them. I treasure my friend Ron.