Shoes, Books & Cynicism
Kate Stone Matheson
The Wax That Melts Our Wings

I’d say it’s what separates us, not from the beasts, but the bestial. Creating the future, renewing a learned past - these are reasons to strive. Writing for and with love, taking and framing an image, stretching new melodic skins onto old skeletons of song… it’s how we manage to fly. It’s how we stay you and me, not us and them.

The Wax That Melts Our Wings
Shoes, Books & Cynicism
Kate Stone Matheson
The Lady Jellypants Guide to Grace and Poise

Unlike Osk, who seemed to establish his own tactical task force wherever we lived, scooping up neighbourhood feline troublemakers as sidekicks (including the memorable ginger behemoth Watson, with whom he used to scope the street from the safety of the shed roof), Jelly has the intelligence gathering skills of a sponge cake.

The Lady Jellypants Guide to Grace and Poise
Shoes, Books & Cynicism
Kate Stone Matheson
Love Me Tender

Anyway, somewhere in between my 'and then you should've done this' and 'why didn't you say x and y, rather than z', and 'for the love of monkeys and the general public's eyesight, you didn't honestly wear that heinous shirt did you', something he was saying about the dating extravaganza we were picking to pieces finally penetrated my cloud of self-congratulatory cumulo-waffle. 

"Most people don't talk about how dates are progressing as a tender process, do they?" he asked. 

"What?"

"She said I was 'part way through the tender process' and that she was judging me on my submission. I'd like to think there was irony involved, and I think at the time I may have given an admittedly weak "haha, yesssss, quite". Looking back, I'd have to conclude, computer says no on the presence of Fabulon or other aids to achieving crisply pressed linen."

Love Me Tender

painkillers

Ain't That A Kick In The Head?

““Love is a universal migraine/A bright stain on the vision/Blotting out reason.””

— Robert Graves

There is something about a migraine which is almost impossible to explain to a non-migraine sufferer, apart from the tremendous and overwhelming desire to hit them with a mallet when they call what is happening to you a 'headache'. That part's pretty easy to explain; you pick up a mallet, swing it somewhere damaging, and say sweetly 'it's not a headache'.

Because it is not a headache.

Headaches are what happen when you sleep badly, or you have a few too many glasses of the good stuff.

Migraines, on the other hand, are a foul breath from the innermost regions of Hell sent forth to torment those who dared to presume that the last one was, in fact, hopefully, the last one.

I used to get migraines 3 or 4 times a week. I now cannot understand nor fathom how on earth I stayed upright most of the time, let alone relatively sane. Because I only get them occasionally now thanks to the power of modern medicine and they just about rip me to bits.

It's as if, in a full blow doozy, there is a Hieronymous Bosch painting in my head such as The Garden of Earthly Delights  with everyone invited to stomp on my skull - in other words, a complete and utter Barry Crocker. Flashing lights, amplified sound, throbbing head.

If I wanted all of the above, I could just go out to a dodgy nightclub. With the added bonus of a. alcohol, b. men to look at and c. nasty outfits to be nasty about.

But no. I need to have a full on rave in my own skull. And it seems the entirety of Hell's Angels of Australia decided to attend. And thus - out comes the painkillers.

Painkillers are in theory, a great idea. They kill pain by definition. In reality, they make you talk to invisible people and quite possibly see dead people (if you are anything like me, and I guarantee you I am not alone here). Woozy, drowsy and slurry. Again, it seems someone has passed the tequila my way too many times.

But no. And herein, for me, lies the rub.

Take mild painkiller - nuthin'. Take strong painkiller - result. But then I can't function for 24 hours.

So I have a genuine query for migraine sufferers out there (and unlike some of my more exotic health issues, this is being a sufferer, not a survivor) - what on earth do you do to get them to SOD OFF AND LEAVE YOU ALONE?

All answers welcomed.

There may even be a prize. Not a good one, but still - free stuff is free stuff.

Now I must go. I am getting a headache from staring at the screen. And I emphasise headache, not migraine. This time you are safe from the mallet.

But be warned.

I have itchy swinging fingers.