RIP Amy Winehouse

Well Amy sadly passed away  on Saturday leaving hundreds of thousands of mourning fans in shock. Of course there's always a few people starved of emotional intelligence who get there mobile phones out and start tweeting what a crack whore she was and then scan the net for sick jokes to upload to Facebook, but the reality is, dependancy is a condition, bulimia is a condition, and this woman was ill. Whether or not the rumours about Amy being diagnosed with bipolar are true, I cannot stress enough the importance of taking medication prescribed by your GP. I've met many people suffering from dual diagnosis (where mental health and addiction are present) and seen what happens when they don't take their meds, even just for a few days. 


Hmm.. I feel like I'm giving out the "Just Say No" message in reverse, so I'm going to link up.

RIP Amy.

This is how I want to be with my husband when I drow up..

Cows sit down before it rains

I think I am starting to calm down now. According to recent tests the lithium is finally showing up in my blood, so hopefully I can stay or go just above 1000mg. Short list of successes to add to my CV are the following..


I had a shower - although the act of standing upright for more than three minutes feels like a non-sponsored half marathon, there is something very protective about being dirty, like another layer of sweat to keep you warm. Besides, whilst I smell more appealing to my pets it wards off other people.


I changed my clothes - having managed to spill everything down myself, I resorted to wearing a cooking apron, however, my boyfriend pointed out that I also put it on just before a mood swing came along and I'm wondering if this is in league with cows sit down when just before it rains. Worth noting as a preventative measure.


I changed my bedding - having spent up to twenty hours out of twenty four I am sure I am in breach of  health and safety issues within the borough of Hackney.


I left the flat - I went to interview an artist for a publishing website, there is only so many times a week you can say "can we do it tomorrow" before you have to say "can we do it next week".


I tidied the flat - when I am low, or high, or in mixed state (when you are both - my least favourite yet most often) it's like I've swallowed a magnifying glass and everything looks messier than it is, and colours, shapes, dimensions, layers are all enhanced and it's consuming and suffocating and no matter where I am in the world, if I know my flat is a mess I'm a nightmare, in a nightmare.


Onwards and upwards! 


The sun IS coming out after drenched couple of days and I'm going Camping tomorrow. I'll be packing my apron.


Pic - one of my stills currently up at the Core Arts Summer Exhibition London

Self harm by drawing alsatians pt 2

I'd like to say as a follow up to my last post Self harming and drawing Alsatians, waking up with such etiquette as Sue Ellen after a hen doo in Newcastle is no longer the repetitive ritual that was most days of the week, which was pretty much throughout my twenties. Oh, and last night. The one good thing about being on psychiatric drugs is that it makes one a cheap date, however, the downside of being on psychiatric drugs is that it makes one a cheap date, cheap being the operative word. Great if you want a quickie in a telephone box to pay for your cab home, bad if you're having a drinking work meeting.

Here's an example - unfortunately names are with-held - I once attended a meeting with beep re commissioning some material for the beep show. Now at the time I was also writing for beep magazine and was scheduled to attend an exclusive sex party with one of the magazines photographers to do a piece on what goes on at these places. The meeting started off well, ideas were noted, the Shiraz was flowing, and Beep even said he'd come to the sex party so long as the camera stays out of his face. Much of the rest of the meeting was a blur but I do have vague memories of crying and throwing up into my hand-bag, and I somehow recall driving off in the back of a cab, hair stuck to my Alice Cooper eyes with sick and tears shouting out of the window to beep "Are you still coming to the sex party?"

I never heard from him again. 

The sex party hurt my eyes.

Pic - some REAL alsatians

Self harm by drawing alsatians pt 1

This morning I woke up with sick down one side of my face, Cava down the other, face down into a cleverly constructed (for someone that cannot remember) picture of a horse. Had I taken self harm to a new level? I once drew an alsatian as a form of punishment for erratic behaviour, and no, it wasn't one of the cruel teachers of the nineteen eighties that keep coming back to haunt us in the press attempting to humiliate me in front of the class, it was in fact me. Some people binge eat, others cut themselves but I draw animals to inflict pain and degradation on myself.