This week has been tough. I guess I'll explain later, when I don't feel like death multiplied by death plus death divided by arghhhhhhh.
So yeah, as the title suggests, I'd rather be fighting off ghosts and bears and inbred woodsmen with chainsaws, all the while having no bearing on a means of escape.
Fuck chemo.
Big love,
Ryan.
Friday 19 August 2011
Tuesday 16 August 2011
Redecorating.
I'm in the process of sprucing the place up a bit, as you might have noticed. The books were nice and I enjoyed the various Asimov titles that spread themselves across the pile but it didn't look right with my brand spanking new title. And isn't it just fan-fucking-tastic? Yes ok a bit disturbing I'll admit but that's what you get with a Giger inspired mind.
And I must give credit to that mind. James Wragg did the artwork for the title and even coloured it in which saved me a massive headache I can tell you. You can find a collection of his artwork and comics over at his blog, masterfully titled Thrusting Pens. I'll also add it to the pathetically small list of links that you've probably missed over on the right hand side of this page. Networking for the win.
My good friend Andy Bobandy is also gonna have a go at redesigning the whole look of the site for me. When I say 'have a go' I really mean absolutely own it as coding websites is kind of his thing, really. The weirdo gangly demiurge that he is. It'll still be blogger, which will probably serve as a hindrance to his innovation as blogger do tend to be arseholes, but nonetheless I'm sure he'll whip up something badass extraordinaire. Or at least he better. It's exciting times for The Deadly Rhythm. I'm just looking forward to my blog not looking like it came straight out of the blogger template love factory of shite.
I had aspirations to give you an actual update of my goings on over the last few days but if I'm being honest, I'm so tired from treatment that I don't think I have the creative power to muster up something even mildly enthralling. The hardships of chemo, right? However, I'm keen to get a few thoughts down soon so hopefully tomorrow I'll be far more productive.
Until then, yeah?
Big love,
Ryan.
My good friend Andy Bobandy is also gonna have a go at redesigning the whole look of the site for me. When I say 'have a go' I really mean absolutely own it as coding websites is kind of his thing, really. The weirdo gangly demiurge that he is. It'll still be blogger, which will probably serve as a hindrance to his innovation as blogger do tend to be arseholes, but nonetheless I'm sure he'll whip up something badass extraordinaire. Or at least he better. It's exciting times for The Deadly Rhythm. I'm just looking forward to my blog not looking like it came straight out of the blogger template love factory of shite.
I had aspirations to give you an actual update of my goings on over the last few days but if I'm being honest, I'm so tired from treatment that I don't think I have the creative power to muster up something even mildly enthralling. The hardships of chemo, right? However, I'm keen to get a few thoughts down soon so hopefully tomorrow I'll be far more productive.
Until then, yeah?
Big love,
Ryan.
Wednesday 10 August 2011
He's got issues.
Mercy me.
I've been pretty occupied these last few days trying to sort out my life, basically. After coming back from hospital I've been faced with a big pile of hassle which requires my absolute fullest attention, and it's gotten me so stressed I'm perilously close to sacking it off completely and burying my head in the sand. Either that or just hiding the letters and ignoring the emails. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. However, deep down I know this avenue cannot be pursued and I'm just gonna have to deal with it. In truth it shouldn't take that long. I'm just being a whiny bitch basically. But this illness has made me so god damn lazy that the thought of committing even the slightest bit of effort to anything makes me sick to the core.
Finishing third year is gonna be a laugh, then.
I'll explain the situation. Basically, Sheffield uni have informed me that I need various forms of medical evidence to prove that I'm not a dirty little liar and that I do indeed have leukaemia. I also need them to be able to re-register and resume my studies. No problem, I initially thought, I'll just get my consultant to sort that out that business, and as expected he was more than happy to help me with my little issue. "YO I GOT THIS" he exclaimed (in much more professional eloquence). Cut to three weeks later and the uni inform me that they still haven't received the requested forms and that time is a ticking in regards to the whole matter. The fuck? I ring up the hospital and it turns out my wonderfully helpful consultant has only decided to fob off my medical forms and go on holiday for two weeks. Well. That's just fantastic.
So I've got to get my trials nurse to sort this out for me, and I'm hoping she's considerably more on the ball than my consultant is.
I've also got a few other issues to resolve. The uni think I'm coming back in September, when I'm actually returning in January. Needs to be sorted. My finances for next year are also in danger of going Pete Tong if I don't get the appropriate medical forms in. Needs to be sorted. And there's just not enough guava juice in this oppressive world. Needs to be sorted.
Still, I'm in a good mood. Despite now being completely bald, my clothes are properly fitting me again thus negating the need to go out and buy some more. A penny saved is a penny earned. I also seem to be keeping my eyelashes this time round so I don't look like a proper freak. You can always lay testament to the qualities of one's character if they possess eyelashes. I would also question those who have less than two eyebrows. If they have more than two... do your utmost to befriend them.
I'm signing off to play Forza. I know absolutely nothing about cars or how they work but I'm finding this game absolutely banging. There's nothing more satisfying than hearing the almighty roar of a computer simulated car engine. It's been in my head all day.
VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM *gear change* VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM *gear change* VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM *break* EEEIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR *repeat*
I'm not even joking when I say that it's fucking awesome.
Big love,
Ryan.
I've been pretty occupied these last few days trying to sort out my life, basically. After coming back from hospital I've been faced with a big pile of hassle which requires my absolute fullest attention, and it's gotten me so stressed I'm perilously close to sacking it off completely and burying my head in the sand. Either that or just hiding the letters and ignoring the emails. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. However, deep down I know this avenue cannot be pursued and I'm just gonna have to deal with it. In truth it shouldn't take that long. I'm just being a whiny bitch basically. But this illness has made me so god damn lazy that the thought of committing even the slightest bit of effort to anything makes me sick to the core.
Finishing third year is gonna be a laugh, then.
I'll explain the situation. Basically, Sheffield uni have informed me that I need various forms of medical evidence to prove that I'm not a dirty little liar and that I do indeed have leukaemia. I also need them to be able to re-register and resume my studies. No problem, I initially thought, I'll just get my consultant to sort that out that business, and as expected he was more than happy to help me with my little issue. "YO I GOT THIS" he exclaimed (in much more professional eloquence). Cut to three weeks later and the uni inform me that they still haven't received the requested forms and that time is a ticking in regards to the whole matter. The fuck? I ring up the hospital and it turns out my wonderfully helpful consultant has only decided to fob off my medical forms and go on holiday for two weeks. Well. That's just fantastic.
So I've got to get my trials nurse to sort this out for me, and I'm hoping she's considerably more on the ball than my consultant is.
I've also got a few other issues to resolve. The uni think I'm coming back in September, when I'm actually returning in January. Needs to be sorted. My finances for next year are also in danger of going Pete Tong if I don't get the appropriate medical forms in. Needs to be sorted. And there's just not enough guava juice in this oppressive world. Needs to be sorted.
Still, I'm in a good mood. Despite now being completely bald, my clothes are properly fitting me again thus negating the need to go out and buy some more. A penny saved is a penny earned. I also seem to be keeping my eyelashes this time round so I don't look like a proper freak. You can always lay testament to the qualities of one's character if they possess eyelashes. I would also question those who have less than two eyebrows. If they have more than two... do your utmost to befriend them.
I'm signing off to play Forza. I know absolutely nothing about cars or how they work but I'm finding this game absolutely banging. There's nothing more satisfying than hearing the almighty roar of a computer simulated car engine. It's been in my head all day.
VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM *gear change* VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM *gear change* VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM *break* EEEIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR *repeat*
I'm not even joking when I say that it's fucking awesome.
Big love,
Ryan.
Saturday 6 August 2011
My youth is slippin', my youth is slippin' away.
Como estas, bitches! I've just got back from a four day stay at the hospital. It was a proper nightmare to be frank, and once I was mercilessly made aware of my 'dreaded 38' condition (a term I'm sure all haematology patients are familiar with) I was accordingly doomed to sleepless nights, relentless IV drips and an absolute fucking shambles of a bedding situation. I won't go into it though, mostly because I don't want to use this blog as a vessel of constant moaning. Looking at the past few entries it's in danger of going that way.
So instead, I'm going to reflect on something that has affected me quite poignantly, much to my surprise. I'd love to tell you that it's an actual serious topic, like the stock market collapse Mark II or polar bears getting their merkage on. Alas, it is actually in regards to the break up of one of my most treasured bands; a band that I have practically worshiped since my school days. RIP the great Alexisonfire.
A lot of you might not know who in the hell Alexisonfire are. Some of you might think they're utter shite and are laughing at me for my intolerable taste in music (if you are one of those people then I positively suggest that you do one). However, to the (probably) small minority of you who were familiar with just how incredible this band was, then you'll share my feelings of utter devastation and heartbreak knowing that they're no longer going to be writing songs, recording albums and playing shows. It's a huge loss to music.
However, having been dwelling on the news all day, it's not just the simple break up of the band that has left me feeling so damn gutted. Like I said, this is a band that I've loved since my, erm, younger and more vulnerable years. Back then music was such an important part of me, and my devotion to a certain small group of bands was of such a vehemence that it could be called obsessive. Now don't get me wrong, music still figures strongly in my life, but these days it's a lot different. Gone are the times of queuing outside music venues in the afternoon to get on the barrier at gigs, or the desperate need to get a band's latest CD days before it hits the shops. I'd rather explore what music has to offer rather than submit to the bounties of one single band or genre.
A lot of people would attribute this to simply growing up, and of course they're right. But therein lies the issue. The break up of a band that has featured so prominently in my life really does confirm the dreaded truth: I am getting on in life. Obviously I'm being far too dramatic in that statement. Let's face it, the bigger picture suggests that I'm not getting old at all and that I should be thankful for my smooth skin and slick joints and full hair and... oh balls. In any case, perhaps it's not so much I'm getting old but rather... I'm losing touch of my youth?
The whole thing got me thinking. As more and more of my childhood affections cease to exist, how will it make me feel as a person? Will I be more happy to embrace new life paraphernalia as the artifacts of my youth crumble around me? I like to think that I would, if not slightly begrudgingly, and in many ways I can sort of link this with the last seven months' events. Life goes on. Things happen. And whilst it's a great personal blow that Alexisonfire have broken up, I can accept it as an inevitability. Bands stop playing music. Unless you're the fucking Rolling Stones or whatever.
I'll have a fat listening session dedicated to the great band soon. But first, there must be a mourning period.
C'est la vie. Next week I hope to start chemo again, but because of this recent hospital stay that looks unlikely. Doubt I'll get any summer now, but oh well. Autumn is the best season anyway.
Big love,
Ryan.
So instead, I'm going to reflect on something that has affected me quite poignantly, much to my surprise. I'd love to tell you that it's an actual serious topic, like the stock market collapse Mark II or polar bears getting their merkage on. Alas, it is actually in regards to the break up of one of my most treasured bands; a band that I have practically worshiped since my school days. RIP the great Alexisonfire.
A lot of you might not know who in the hell Alexisonfire are. Some of you might think they're utter shite and are laughing at me for my intolerable taste in music (if you are one of those people then I positively suggest that you do one). However, to the (probably) small minority of you who were familiar with just how incredible this band was, then you'll share my feelings of utter devastation and heartbreak knowing that they're no longer going to be writing songs, recording albums and playing shows. It's a huge loss to music.
However, having been dwelling on the news all day, it's not just the simple break up of the band that has left me feeling so damn gutted. Like I said, this is a band that I've loved since my, erm, younger and more vulnerable years. Back then music was such an important part of me, and my devotion to a certain small group of bands was of such a vehemence that it could be called obsessive. Now don't get me wrong, music still figures strongly in my life, but these days it's a lot different. Gone are the times of queuing outside music venues in the afternoon to get on the barrier at gigs, or the desperate need to get a band's latest CD days before it hits the shops. I'd rather explore what music has to offer rather than submit to the bounties of one single band or genre.
A lot of people would attribute this to simply growing up, and of course they're right. But therein lies the issue. The break up of a band that has featured so prominently in my life really does confirm the dreaded truth: I am getting on in life. Obviously I'm being far too dramatic in that statement. Let's face it, the bigger picture suggests that I'm not getting old at all and that I should be thankful for my smooth skin and slick joints and full hair and... oh balls. In any case, perhaps it's not so much I'm getting old but rather... I'm losing touch of my youth?
The whole thing got me thinking. As more and more of my childhood affections cease to exist, how will it make me feel as a person? Will I be more happy to embrace new life paraphernalia as the artifacts of my youth crumble around me? I like to think that I would, if not slightly begrudgingly, and in many ways I can sort of link this with the last seven months' events. Life goes on. Things happen. And whilst it's a great personal blow that Alexisonfire have broken up, I can accept it as an inevitability. Bands stop playing music. Unless you're the fucking Rolling Stones or whatever.
I'll have a fat listening session dedicated to the great band soon. But first, there must be a mourning period.
C'est la vie. Next week I hope to start chemo again, but because of this recent hospital stay that looks unlikely. Doubt I'll get any summer now, but oh well. Autumn is the best season anyway.
Big love,
Ryan.
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