The Graveyard

The Lair Of Gary James

Posts Tagged ‘hypertime’

Some Kind Of Update

Posted by BigWords on March 9, 2010

Thwock, thwock, thwock, thwock, thwock…

The sound reverberates around my head, a constant reminder that I’m too damn stubborn to relax. This is all my fault, and I can’t help feeling that I deserve the pain. Ah, but you’re wondering why I dropped off the face of the planet – or, at least, the internet, which these days is pretty much one and the same thing… I have managed to get online to check out some stuff, but anything requiring concentration has eluded my abilities, the worst moment being Sunday afternoon, when the browser seemed to be scrolling down in a constant movement. It wasn’t the browser, and it took me a couple of minutes to realize that the problem lay not within the bowels of the infernal machine, but within my eyes. It’s the strangest feeling to have something I rely on so much (my eyesight) betray me in such a way.
Inside my right eye, under the bottom lid, is some kind of a spot or something, a little white blemish against the bright pink flesh, which has been furiously scratching at my eyeball every time I blink. And there is the noise…

Thwock, thwock, thwock, thwock, thwock…

Damnable noise. The earache is back, and it sounds for all the world as if a Chinook is trying (unsuccessfully) to take off in my head. The inside of my ear feels like it has swollen to three times its normal size, and the entire left side of my head is throbbing in sympathy pains. Couture damnations, indeed. I knew that there would be a Karmic penalty for the constant activity which has driven me from everything I had lined up, but I didn’t realize it would be so blunt, so sudden and so terribly debilitating. Maybe it has something to do with the limited amount of sleep I have had over the past few weeks, ’cause the last time I felt this shitty was when I found it impossible to sleep.

So sleep, huh. yeah, the most I have had recently is two hours at a stretch, with the average being about an hour. I’ve tried all of the so-called remedies, but they are – more or less – a complete waste of time. The drugs which claim to give uninterrupted sleep used to work, but I was taking double the recommended dosage every time I used them, and even then I only hit about five hours of decent sleep. The damn earache has been waking me up as soon as I can get shut-eye, so that only exacerbates the problem. The thumping, ricocheting noise which threatens sanity and destroys the ability to develop any level of concentration continues, beyond the reach of painkillers and meditation techniques alike – the demon which will not be satisfied until something snaps.

Thwock, thwock, thwock, thwock, thwock…

I’ll share a little something here, just because there seems to be a misunderstanding amongst folks who can sleep normally, and I expect you to be paying attention – there is no fun to be had with this shit. Seriously, whenever there is a film or TV show where a main character has insomnia it rapidly flows into the realms of fantasy… I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to switch off a DVD or change channels because of the idiocy of the script. There are levels to insomnia, and there are different types (subtle differences to doctors, perhaps – the end effects are still the same), but never have I experienced the kinds of stuff you see in films. No hallucinations which feel real, and certainly no conversations with imaginary people. No fun aural hallucinations either. I do get time displacement, which is rarely given any consideration in media representations of the affliction.

Time displacement is weirdness squared. I generally manage pretty well, but on the odd occasion where I get hit hard… Not the best time to try and make sense of anything I say or do. When I arrived home on Sunday night I dropped my bag in the hall, made myself a coffee, then worked out a schedule which would be the best use of my time (hitting the right connections) for Monday’s travels. I then grabbed my bag, checked my watch, and discovered that I was late for the train – a full six hours before I actually needed to catch the train. This is typical of being awake for so long – days kinda bleed into one another, and only the darkening of the sky is any indication of days passing by. Lost time is similar to time displacement, but altogether more scary. I black out for short periods of time, less than a couple of minutes mostly, while I continue to perform whatever it was I was doing when I black out. When walking along a busy road this can be life-endangering. Still think insomnia is fun and games?

And my eyes… The rawness has (mostly) disappeared, but my eyes still hurt. I think I may be dehydrated, but I can never remember if I have drunk anything – or, for that matter, if I have had anything to eat. Trying to keep an eye on how much weight I may be losing isn’t really possible when I don’t know for sure which day it is, so the best I have managed to come up with is an alarm on my ‘phone which beeps every eight hours reminding me that it is a good idea to get some nourishment. Better than starving to death I guess. Is it unusual for a person not to feel hungry? Or thirsty? No idea. The times during which my sleep patterns have leveled off seem so distant now that it’s hard to recall exactly when the last time I felt ‘normal’ was.

I’ll try to post more regularly, but at the moment it seems that there is too much to deal with. Thank Cthulhu for codeine (the best over-the-counter pain relief ) and Jack Daniels… If I can hold together enough of my limited attention span together I may be able to write something worth reading soon.

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The Not So Funny Pages

Posted by BigWords on June 19, 2009

frankmiller_twoThe weekly comic-book run isn’t something I partake of anymore. I know it is almost heresy to admit to, but it’s true. There’s just so many titles being produced (and so many bad ones) that I can’t justify splashing out on an issue I’ll only ever read once. While it is still an important part of my DNA, the Marvel Universe has gotten too big, introduced too many alternative universes and managed to become bewilderingly blah… Same with DC’s multiverse / no multiverse / hypertime / new multiverse ad infinitum…

Add in the Spider-Man mess, and there is little to draw me back to the superhero comics.

I initially stopped reading for a couple of months, but other things slowly ate up the money I intended to lay aside for the funny pages. The constant stream of excellents DVDs being released, new computer games (and new consoles), classic paperbacks that I never managed to purchase first time around, and more, forced their way into my list of “must have items”.

Having looked through the comics I did splash out on in the last couple of years, I found that there were more older titles than new ones. I still keep up with the characters and creators who make me smile, but I’m not desperate to read them any more… Hellboy and Sin City are the only comics I will go out of my way to read, and even then it is normally after the fact. Back issues are the lifeblood of my collection. Damn, I’m a bad geek. I’m letting the side down…

It’s hard to stay ahead of the unrelenting release schedule. Even when I was spending huge amounts on comics I never really considered the expenditure as value for money, and since the main purpose of comics is entertainment, I’m sticking with the comics that entertain me most.  The title which has managed to stay at the top of the list just happens to be Sin City at the moment. Sin_City-That_Yellow_Bastard_3_p21 It is kinda weird not having to trudge over to Edinburgh every week, but I’m not missing the journey.

I’m also not missing the Spider-Man crapshoot, where any given issue might be the worst comic ever written. The endless tinkering with classic characters is one of the primary reasons I gave up on certain comics in the first place. Green Arrow is Oliver Queen, not Connor whothefuckishe, and I haven’t gone back. I know the changes have probably given the title new life, but I just don’t care.

The best thing that has arrived from cutting out the titles which annoyed me, is the ability to go out and buy classic runs I could never have afforded had I been wasting the money on newer comics. The Frank Miller Daredevil / Elektra Saga, all of the Nestor Redondo comics, Hugo Pratt’s Corto Maltese stories and the E.C. titles which formed such an important part of my teen reading in reprint form.

I may be a bad geek, but at least I have taste.

Trying to get Joe Quesada to understand why people don’t like his editorial style may be difficult, but as long as a few brave souls refuse to read his butchery of the Spider-Man title, the message might get through. In the meantime I’ll be reading Sin City.

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