Grace Notes @ Snarkattack

Sorry, an obscure and clumsy reference to one of my favourite Apollinaire poems.

A dear friend from overseas sent me a sample of a fragrance I was very unlikely going to be able to try, and I had sampled it on Saturday, promising to list its notes.
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Well, not quite.

Last week had been one of panic, disappointment and most of all, deep denial.

Back in the good ol’ pre-breakdown days, that meant reading/studying/writing/playing music like a nut.
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…for the sensory pleasures.

Man, rough week. I decided to haul some of my neglected girlie stuff out to cheer my spirits.
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…like you’re just waiting to explode?

I have a fair idea of what’s causing me to feel like this, but gosh, it’s so weird to be pulled in so many different directions that you feel like you’ll actually be torn to shreds.
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For all sorts of silly reasons.

The main one being that I seem to have the opinion that Vin Diesel is not that bad an actor. This worries me greatly. Seriously, the man can act.
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So…I’m a bit nervous, but apparently my first post on Blogcritics is up and I was just reading this review and was very tempted to make a facetious comment on the review but in regards to Bush’s brain, that being the following ditty I attempt to use to cheer myself up from time to time:
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Sheesh, and for once it seemed like a half-normal day!

I woke up at a half-decent hour, and of course wanted to know where Dear Puss was so opened up the patio door, to my mother watering down the concrete (somewhat illegal in water-restricted Melbourne) causing me to roll eyeballs in disbelief.
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So yesterday, still not quite over seeing my massive Sir Thomas Wyatt-inspired work appearing in print in Chelys Australia, I wake up to even more good news: I’ve just been accepted as a reviewer for the online Blogcritics site!
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Still a sleepy monster. But for once, with some good news.
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It’s not really totally musical but because music is a large part of it and I can’t put miniblog posts in more than one category, it’s in this one.
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Woods, that is.

At the beginning of the week, my irritable bowel syndrome was activated by the humble artificially flavoured jelly sweet. I didn’t realise they had that crap in it, which is very nasty for sufferers of IBS, as I found out a few years ago, even before having a mental meltdown. It just cramps up your bowels and forces EVERYTHING out of them. Solid, or liquid, it matters not.
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So survived another day at the dumb shrink’s. Sadly, that meant taking more sodium valproate, which further means big fat bouts of narcolepsy, seriously.

But, for the moment, it also means not yet having to run the lithium gauntlet. It’s supposed to be a good mood stabiliser, for bi-polar disorder.
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