Saturday 18 December 2010

goodnight sweet captain

Sad news that Don Van Vliet aka Captain Beefheart has passed away at the age of 69.

Don had been a bit of a recluse for the last couple of decades, preferring to stay in the desert and concentrate on his painting - rather than the gloriously idiosyncratic take on the blues which brought him to the world's attention.

During his time in the wilderness there were loads of rumours that he had MS, rumours which are confirmed now.

Here's some prime live Beefheart from 1973 - I've always loved the way the musicians are physically FEELING this weird skewiff beat.

Read a nice tribute from The Guardian

Buy some of the good stuff

Don Van Vliet aka Captain Beefheart, 1941-2010

Thursday 2 December 2010

it isn't always you-know-what...

The comment by Jackie on my recent post really chimed with me.

I think this is a problem that I certainly suffer with - that every little bump in the road is to do with MS and/or a progression of the disease - when quite often it's just STUFF that EVERYONE has to deal with.

So insomnia - yes, the feeling that I might need to go to the loo in the night can be distracting and the thought that I might have an accident in the night can be enough to keep me awake.

But the main cause of insomnia is - as Jackie said - just stupid stuff flying around my head.

Case in point - Monday is an injection day. Is the Rebif keeping me awake, or is it because Tuesday's at work are filled with meetings, which means I rarely (if ever) get anything done? So I will spend the night before making mental to-do lists, having long and protracted arguments with colleagues, listening to endless random ear-worms, etc.

Y'know - like YOU ALL do.

Which came first - the DMD or the Tuesday meeting?

As an aside, I've always LOATHED Tuesdays, even as a kid.

Think about it: on Monday, you can have the whole, "Did you have a good weekend?" conversation; on Wednesdays you're half-way through; Thursday is practically the weekend; Friday actually is.

But Tuesday is all on its own - adrift, miles away from the nearest Good Time.

Anyway, it'll soon be Christmas.