I am proud, I guess. I am proud of my work here at MMU, and proud of my achievements. I am proud, I guess, of who I am and of what I have become. I’m proud of my girlfriend, Lyn; of the things she’s been through and the battles she’s won. I’m proud to know people like Katie Caryer, blazing the way towards inclusion, and Simon stevens, who I am only beginning to understand. I am proud to have known my friends from school who are no longer with us – the five of them. In short, I am proud, though I did nothing for it, of being a crip.

This struck me as I was going down church road this afternoon. There were kids around, on their lunch break, from the nearby high school. I passed a group, and they sniggered. I turned, and they fled. I decided I’d had enough – I am proud of what I have achieved enough to refuse to be a laughing stock. Why should we disabled people, after all the crap we put up with, have to bear being the butt of some snot-nosed kid’s joke? I went round to the reception of their school, and told the receptionist. The headmaster was called, and he apologised. There was a message waiting in my inbox to say that the matter had been dealt with. Good.

We live in a culture which values (or should value) diversity. Intolerance, of any kind, must end. Soon I will finish a 30,000 word research thesis, and I refuse to be seen as inferior to any child.

music

I met with Alan this afternoon, and guess what: he didn’t shout at me this tme! In fact he seemed very pleased with what I sent to him on Friday. I think I’m finally glimpsing the light at the end of the tunnel, and it looked good. Alan gave me a few ideas of what to include. Interestingly, he suggested he suggested I should put in a bit more stuff about my subjectivity as related to my disability: most film theory positions the viewer as a still, silent one, but viewers with cp are rarely still and silent, try though they might. This opens up yet more avenues to explore.

I think he wants me to do a PhD. Oh boy.

Most of today has been spent here at my desk. As much as I dislike staying in my room for too long, it’s not been bad. Got a bit of work done; watched some TV, but mostly I’ve been talking to Lyn. We’re thinking of moving to Chester now, which makes good sense. London, while exciting, may be too crowded. Chester, on the other hand, seems much better. Not far from friends, and should anything break, my parents can be there within a couple of hours. I like this idea. Plus, Chester is full of pubs, coffee shops and book stores!

The news of the election is predictably depressing. Fed up with the current government, they are falling for a smooth talking leader of an opposition; an opposition no less culpable of the current scandal than the ruling party. When this fact was put to CaMoron he tried to pretend that the difference between the Tories and Labour was that the Tories are more united. Ha! The Tory party is only united because they have this great leader who can appeal to the public. Mark my words: as soon as the Tory party get in – and I have no doubt this country is fool enough to do that – CaMoron will me gone and we’ll have a thatcherite dick in power. Dave, they’re just using you.

I went into hanley last night rather than Wednesday, as, according to their website, the Pink bar shuts Wednesday. It was great fun – my first real time dressed en femme off campus. Well, I wasn’t really dressed, as I didn’t have any make-up, and I left my wig at home for fear it would keep sliding off, but I felt I looked cute and pleasingly ambiguous. I wore a padded bra to give me he right shaped chest. Every time I caught my reflection in a mirror or window, I felt a buzz, a thrill that I cannot explain.

Mind you, when we got to the Pink place, it looked dead, too quiet. So we went round to the Spareroom, which had rock music playing. We stayed there for the evening – it’s a rock/Goth place, and I kind of like Goth fashion. Short skirts, torn tights, fingerless gloves etc. we caught the last bus home and I got the last bus home dying for a pee but very very happy.

I woke up with an idea today. Perhaps some things should remain mysteries. If we try to look too hard into something, we destroy the fascination. Perhaps the point about my fascination with femininity is that it is a mystery to me. Girls are, lets face it, quite unfathomable; I’ve tried to work them out, to see what it feels like, but if I go too far down that road, the mystery vanishes. I’m not saying I’m going to stop my cross-dressing or experimentation, but I guess I should recognise that I am a guy, and I’m happy as a guy, and as a result of that womanhood will always be unfathomable. That is not to say I am not fascinated by those who do make that leap and cross that threshold and step fully into that other world.

As a crip, the same applies to talking clearly and the riding of bicycles.

Or cinephilia.

I have plans for tonight – big plans. Inspired, in part, by what I found on Monday, I plan to dress up and go out in Hanley. Ideally, I’d want to go all out – make-up, wig etc – but I’m not sure I can tonight. Not with Rob, anyway. Ultimately, I’d like to be treated as a girl, mostly out of curiosity, but I don’t think I can be that convincing. I know from Lyn that it is possible, but unlike her my ‘normal state’ is male, and I’m happy as a guy, so I have no intention to take the next step, as she has. Having said that, I’d like to see just how far I can take this little fascination of mine.

Yesterday afternoon I was board, so I decided to tap my girlfriends name into google, and I can say that what I found was revolutionary. It turns out that, a few years ago, Lyn worked with Mike Pearson on a couple of projects at the uni of aberystwith, Wales. Professor Pearson is an theatre practitioner; I looked him up. I found his 2001 article, devices and desires, co-written with Lyn, and it blew me away. It articulates something I’ve been wondering about for years – the question of whether I, as a disabled man, am a subject or an object in relation to others. Moreover, it places this question in the wider context of cultural and theatre studies. The article struck me as ground-braking, as well as setting me in awe of Lyn. I think I’ve fallen in love with her all over again – her strength, her vibrancy, what she represents. I cannot do justice to the article here; nor can I yet fully explain why it fascinates me, but it was like finding my own personal G.U.T right under my nose.while i’m not saying that her decision to become lyn was artistically or politically motivated, it has both artistic and political ramifications: it says that all barriers can be crossed; that masculinity and femininity can be re-read; that disabled people are not just people with disabilities. As professor pearson wrote, people like Lyn force us to reevaluate our beliefs, and make us question our very subjectivity.

My big brother mark was over this weekend. he and Kat came over from Paris with my parents last Thursday, who were in France giving dads new car a proper test drive. It had been ages since I’d last seen them, and truth be told I didn’t see too much of them this time, as they had a wedding to go to on Saturday afternoon. Luke was also supposed to be home, but he had work to do, which meant he stayed in London.

As for myself, I just pottered around the house, talking to Lyn and making occasional demands for beer. It was ideal weather for a barbecue but mum, being mum, had other plans. I also voted, by post. Who I voted for is my business, but it was neither labour nor the conservatives. Personally, I’m fed up with politics in general and like many people think we need a general election, or – even better – a revolution! I have very little confidence in any member of parliament.

Other than that, and the fact I watched some tennis (go Murry!) that’s about it. It was quite a good weekend. I’m still not sure who won Britain’s got talent, but I’m hoping it was Diversity – the street dance guys – for they were awesome. My eyebrow was raised at the Scottish singer, though – does anyone else suspect she has mild Down’s /Syndrome, as my dad posited.

I finally have unambiguous proof that cleaning stuff is a bad idea. Yesterday while I was out, Esther decided to clean my Expanded Keyboard. To be fair, it was filthy. However, when I got back the keyboard wasn’t working, Esther looked very sheepish and guilty. I knew it probably just needed to ‘dry out’ or the cable had come loose, so I left it for the evening.

I had dinner with Tally last night, I think she needed my company. She hasn’t taken her friends death very well and there are other complications which I better not go into. However, I invited Ricardio along to hep with eating and the three of us had a surprisingly interesting conversation about the existence of aliens. Me and Tally were of the opinion that they existed, but Ricardio * was arguing that we would have no way to detect them and therefore to all intents and purposes didn’t exist. I guess it goes back to the question of whether a tree falling in a wood makes a sound. Most interesting conversation I’ve had in ages.

Esther arrived this morning still looking sheepish, but then I got her to plug the keyboard back in and it worked. She’s in for a day of light-hearted teasing, but is more-or-less banned from cleaning anything.

* Ricardio has been reading physics books, which if you ask me is a dangerous prospect.

Another busy day: about a thousand words added to my thesis – mostly re-worked, edited old stuff – then off to Crewe to get more cash and more straws. This evening, I popped over to Hanna / Talli’s to see how she was doing. Immediately, she complemented me on my timing and proposed we go to the pub. We spent over an hour talking about all kinds of things. I think she needed to get out of the house, as well as someone new to talk to. I was glad to be of service, and got a kiss as payment. What else are friends for?

I went with my friends Ricardio and mike to a steam rally today. To be honest I wasn’t as impressed as I thought I would be. It all seemed rather sad and slightly annoying. The commentator on the tannoy kept referring to something called the ‘tractor movement’, which somehow really irritated me. It’s not as if tractor enthusiasts are a repressed minority fighting for equal rights. However, he lost all credibility with me when he admitted he was at a steam rally during the moon landings. I mean, who the smeg would choose looking at antiquated bits of kit over watching possibly the greatest event in human history? Mind you, the whole thing was made most entertaining by Ricardio’s jibes, who seemed just as cynical as I was.

Sorry I didn’t post a blog entry yesterday – busy day (not that I think anyone’s particularly bothered whether I blog). Friday night was cool: it was emotional, but fairly peaceful. I decided to go all out and stayed from 7 till 2. So there goes brandies bar. Oh well.

My old friend Hanna came. She still has ties with the hockey team, and it was good to see her there, although she was the only one of our old group of friends who came. She had actually been wanting to find me – she recently lost a friend, and she knew I had lost friends too, so she was hoping I’d be able to advise her or something. I just told her to try to avoid being alone, and I gave her lots of hugs. It’s all you can do, really. We were supposed to eat together last night, but she didn’t show up. I hope she’s ok.

I am crap at remembering dates. IT was Lyn’s birthday yesterday and Dad’s the day before, and I totally forgot both of them. I think I’m in the doghouse on both counts. Mind you, yesterday was a busy day, I got quite a lot of work done and then went out in the evening.

Tonight though will be a big night, it’s the last Brandies disco ever. I’m very sad about it. Brandies has always been a bit of a dive, but I’ve had many good nights there, all those Wednesday’s over five years. I remember when in my first year, I plucked up the courage to go out on my own to the bar. I thought I needed a PA, in many ways I grew up that night, and then thee where the nights when I dressed up, freezing my arse off in leotards and God knows what else. Most of all, it’s a place I associate with my friends, sitting by the windows to the left of the stage in one large group. I remember open mike night and Steve singing ‘Sweet Home Alsager’. I remember falling off my chair and having to be taken home early. So many memories.

There’s a feeling that something’s going to happen tonight. It’s a feeling of discontent. I don’t know what’s afoot, but I think it’s going to be big.

I would like to address the reason why I changed the wording in yesterday’s entry. I originally had written ‘disabled people’ where it now reads ‘people with disabilities’. Initially, I thought the difference didn’t matter, and the commentators were just being anal, but the more I considered it the greater the difference seemed. You’ve probably heard this before, but it is an argument well worth rehearsing. The phrase ‘disabled people’ renders ‘us’ as other; rhetorically, it’s like saying that there is a subgroup of people who are set apart from the whole. The phrase ‘people with disabilities’, on the other hand, emphasises that we are first and foremost people who just happen to have a few physical quirks. ‘Disabled people’ sets up more of a normal / abnormal divide.

This is simple enough, and I apologise for my lapse yesterday. But here’s where it gets interesting. It goes back to my ‘us and them’ debate. If it really was a case of there being a disabled us and an able-bodied them, then the phrase ‘disabled people’ might be acceptable, as wouldn’t we want to emphasise our separateness in terms of the disabled community? Wouldn’t those who seem to claim that disability is a culture want to maintain a rhetorical division, for if we were all just people with disabilities we would all just be part of a whole. Personally, I no longer see myself as separate: I’m just a regular guy really. I can do anything anyone else can, including going on trains. Although I may use a lightwriter and a chair, I am not really ‘different’ or ‘separate’. Granted, people with disabilities must sometimes work together to achieve their goals, but is that really any different from any other pressure group? Although disability art certainly exists, I’m not sure that it indicates a wider disability culture, for surely it should be seen within the context of western culture.

Perhaps I still need to think about all this, but I must say that I’m rethinking beliefs that I was once sure of. After all, if we got rid of these barriers, rhetorical and otherwise, and saw everyone as simply people, wouldn’t the world be a nicer place?

Like most people these days I’ve been keeping one increasingly cynical eye on the news, and I’m appalled by what I see. Politicians of all parties taking us for mugs; a fat, bungling fool for a prime minister; a smarmy twat as leader of the opposition; and a third party whose leader nobody knows. While I believe in democracy, I have no faith in any of the choices presented to me. And will someone please explain why the speaker got blamed for parliament being full of corrupt assholes? I fear that people will now turn, in rebellion, to more extreme parties like the BNP, which never bodes well for minorities like people with disabilities. As for myself, I’m considering voting jury team.

I guess it’s fair to say that I’m pleased with myself for getting to London and back. I’m proud of what I’ve done, and I’m looking forward to doing similar things. I guess the best advice I can give is to organise everything in advance: personally, I thought it vital for someone to meet me at Euston on Friday, and I was extremely relieved to see Lyn’s P.A, Karolyna, waiting on the platform. It’s also important to know where to get help if needed. In terms of security, when waiting or a train, I park my chair with the back to the wall to avoid thieves. My bumbag and lightwriter were both securely attached to me at all times. In short, I guess you just need to keep your wits about you.

Anyway, it was quite a cool weekend. I drank way too much on both Friday and Saturday night, but I had a great time. Friday, we just went to Lyn’s local, then to another pub for dinner. In the first pub, this guy was being a bit of a dick towards K, and I got all manly and protective. Probably a mistake, as he could easily have knocked my block off, but I think he thought it funny. Got home drunk and soaked.

Saturday we went over to goldsmith’s to meet up with charlotte and Co. one problem with a couple like us is getting places together – you try fitting two electric wheelchairs in a black cab. I’m more ambulant than Lyn, so she went in her lecky and I borrowed her manual chair, which we folded during transport. As we were getting out of the taxi, we were met by Charlie, Jodie, Hugh and holly, who was jangling as usual. We went to a nearby caf, where Mrs j. and William were sat. we talked for a good hour or so about this and that, deciding to postpone the Amsterdam trip until October, catching up with news. Of course, I told them about my train trip as if I’d climbed Everest, and they were pleased – Mrs Jones seemed quite alarmed.

Then it was time to go. We took a bus to a shopping center, then went home. K cooked some spag bol, and fed us both. I feel rather guilty for making her P.A for both me and Lyn, but she seemed okay with it. Then it was time to get changed; I suppose it was best I only had a hat and shirt to put on (thereby becoming Indiana Jones) as Lyn had a dress and wig to change into, and anything more elaborate would have been unfair on k. mind you, we did have time: sadly, nobody showed up. We waited, and waited, and waited. It was, it seems, a non-starter. We just got drunk and crawled (literally) into bed. I still feel quite sad about it.

We both had huge hangovers yesterday. I felt tired all day. Karolyna escorted me back to Euston early to avoid traffic (where, randomly, we bumped into Charlie on her way home too). I asked K to phone rob to tell him I’d meet him on campus instead of at the station as previously arranged, just for the sake of simplicity, so when rob wasn’t at the station I assumed the message had got through. I got the bus home, but rob wasn’t here. I loaded up msn, and mum told me rob was still looking for me at the station, worried sick. Luckily, she phoned rob, and he came home. Rather than being pissed off, he seemed quite proud of me. Rob’s too good to me sometimes.

So, apart from that hiccup, which taught me not to change the plans, and the non-existent party, it was a great weekend. I really think it’s a milestone on the road towards independence.

Just got back to uni after a great weekend with Lyn. Travelling by train has proven to be very easy indeed – it’s just a case of making the right arrangements. I will write more about this soon – need to get myself some dinner – but I’m now quite certain that I’ll be travelling by rail lots more from now on.

So tomorrow is the big day. My awfully big adventure. Well, not-so-big depending on hoe you look at it. People take trains every day, after all, and to most people it’s just mundane. Yet, to me, I’m going into the unknown, exploring something new. I’ll be travelling alone, but Lyn and karolyna will meet me on the platform at Euston. I’ve told them what time I’m due, and I have K’s number. I must admit I’m still nervous, but I keep reminding myself it’s just a train, that I’m 26, that most of my friends have travelled solo extensively – for example, charlotte got herself to new Zealand, and Emma’s in china – and that I shouldn’t be such a wimp. Yet this doesn’t stop me from having butterflies in my stomach. Of course, if I don’t do this, I’d be letting myself down, as I hope to make many more such adventures if it’s successful. I want to go up to Edinburgh to see Steve and jenny later this summer, for example. I can’t chicken out at the first attempt. In short, it’s just one further step towards independence.

It has been quite a dull day, really. At least, dull in the sense that nothing blogworthy happened. Read two or three articles in screen, which really helped my understanding of the formation of the scopic drive. I popped into Crewe in search of a costume for Saturday night. Then came home to do more online research before dinner. I had a night in; put on my cat zentai for a bit, etc. see – we cripples can have dull days too!

It seems that the telegraph isn’t so biased after all. It’s done the fair thing, and dished the dirt on the Tory expenses too. Of course, you just knew that the Tories would be as bad, if not worse, as labour at getting the public to pay their bills. The question was, would it emerge, or would they pay off the journalists to keep it quiet. Seems that nobody has enough money to bribe journalists these days, not even Tories. I must say, though, CaMoron is putting on quite a good show of being surprised and angry, but we all know what a good actor he is.

I went to the cinema today to watch star trek. I whish I could say I liked it more. To be fair, it blew me away in terms of it’s references; yet something does not sit quite comfortably with me. Without wanting to spoil it for anyone, it pretty much renders most of star trek cannon void by radically altering ‘the past’. This creates a paradox which I cannot bring myself to forgive. Sure, it paves the way for sequels, and perhaps in the sequel they’ll put the paradox right, but I left the theatre mildly disappointed. It’s great to see the franchise back, and I loved the little touches – we now know the fate of captain Archer’s dog – but, on the whole, I cant say I liked this film as much as I wanted to.

Here I am back in halls. Sorry I didn’t blog Friday – it was a fairly busy day, and I didn’t get chance. Luke and yan were home for the weekend too, and we had a fairly good time. Notably they came up on the train.

Must admit I’m more than a little worried about what I’m about to try. I’ve not gone on the train alone before. The rail journey should be ok – assuming the doors are wide enough for my chair – but mum’s description of Euston at rush hour sounded hellish. I think I’ll change the ticket for an earlier journey. Originally it was that late so I could work, but I’m not sure it would be a good idea to try to navigate my chair through a busy train station at 5pm on a Friday afternoon. Plus I’m considering taking a PA; much safer.

On the plus side, I’ve arranged to meet the joneses down there on Saturday. Hugh attends Goldsmiths uni, which is apparently 20 minutes drive from Lyn’s. it just so happens that Charlie, will and Mrs j. are down there to watch hugh’s performance Friday, so we are gonna meet them for coffee or something. Then in the evening we have Lyn’s party. And I can’t wait to see her as Marilyn Munroe.

Scary stuff, but if it all works, it should rule.

It now seems an age ago that Charlie Jones used to push me back home. We used to go out in the evenings, to brandies or wherever, and she used to push me back, singing. Often I used to look up and the sky would be clear, and I would see a billion stars, and I used to wonder.

I always have wondered whether we are alone in the galaxy. The earth cannot be the only inhabited planet. That’s why I find the stars so beautiful, so mystical. They are symbols of human potential – goals for us to try to reach. Tomorrow, of course, sees the return of star trek to cinema screens – the franchise which reminds us all of what we can be. It is the reason why I look up; and star trek, more or less, is why I still have faith in humanity. If humankind is ever to progress, we must forget our childish fights, our dependence on wealth, our differences, and we must work as one. we must all work together towards a goal: the final frontier, in more ways than one.

I just feel like moaning today. My chair’s broken again – a fault with the drive/push switch, I think – and I decided to go for a walk earlier, which was a mistake. My back and ribs hurt like hell now. So, one way or another, I’m not having a very good day.

I am, however, pleased with myself for what I did yesterday. I plucked up the courage to buy train tickets to go to Lyn’s. it’s her birthday party a week on Saturday, and I don’t intend to miss it. I have never been on the train alone before, so it feels like an adventure. When you think about it, though, it’s nothing really special: it’ll simply be a case of rolling on at Crewe and off at Euston. I’ve arranged for the appropriate assistance, and Lyn will meet me her end. Piece of cake! Plus, my friends have done much more than getting on a train: summers in Ibiza, teaching in china, etc. still, this is my first attempt, so I’m nervous.

I hope my chairs fixed in time, but there are still ways around it if she isn’t. you know, writing this has cheered me up.

The Eiffel tower us missing! I think it disappeared over the weekend. Not the real Eiffel tower, of course. If that went missing, you’d have learned about it long before now. Nor do I think that the citizens of France rely on me for their news. If my site was going to be the one to break the news about the Eiffel tower being missing, it would have to have lots more grunting and…. That’s enough of that sentence.

Basically, the small model of the Eiffel tower which I got in Paris has come off it’s keyring. I look at it from time to time – it cheers me up. But I looked for it in the cue in the bank earlier, and it wasn’t there. I remember getting it, given to me by a north African man selling them under the tower itself, as charlotte and I approached the famous landmark. Since then, I’d taken it everywhere with me. I suppose it was only a cheap little thing, but, like the badge, which is currently safe on my desk at home, it meant quite a bit to me.

The bbc has reminded me that it was 30 years ago today that Thatcher was elected. As an anniversary it’s hardly worth celebrating: kind of like celebrating the anniversary of the outbreak of war or the bombing of pearl harbour. Thatcher ripped the heart out of British industry; thousands lost their jobs because of that narrowminded bint. No doubt the Tories will be celebrating in between helping CaMoron buy new carpet for number ten and putting on their shallow act of compassion. I hope this anniversary serves to remind people just how damaging a Tory government would be.

I am off home shortly. I think I need another weekend at home, but while last week was a 007-oriented weekend, I’m in more of a star trek mood. I’m really looking forward to JJ Abrams’ Star Trek film, which opens next Friday. I don’t think I’ve been this nervous or ambivilant about a film since Lord of the Rings came to the screen: It looks like a complete reboot of the franchise so this could be either the final nail in Star Trek’s coffin, or its rebirth. It could go either way. Like a literary adaptation it must remain faithful to the original but at the same time reinvent it. I really hope the director succeeds, but I’m not sure it’s possible. Who knows, this could be the beginning of a new series, or sequence of films. Or it could be the last flight of the Enterprise before it’s placed in mothbsalls.

What hurts the most is the fact that I wasn’t consulted. On Tuesday, the cast of roadwork met in the screening room. I, as you know, couldn’t find them. Ricardio, it seems, didn’t show up due to personal issues. However, in both of our absences, the cast decided to cancel the show – Ricardio, they felt, had mucked them about too much. Quite frankly, and having had time to reflect on this, their decision pisses me off. My loyalties still lie with Ricardio, ultimately, and what the cast have done strikes me as unprofessional. We had commitments as a company; they should be followed through.

We have a meeting tonight at 7. time to make my opinions heard.

I really fancy a beer tonight. Now, I know what you’re gonna say: ”Matt, you always fancy a beer”, but it’s now been almost a week since I had any alcohol. Granted, my ribs still hurt, but…you know, the sun is out and one won’t hurt. Of course, it depends how this evening shapes up: I have business to conduct with jo and Ricardio if we can find him. Things basically turned pearshaped yesterday, and we need to clear up the mess. I’m not sure if drink would be a help or a hindrance.

One thing is certain, though: I ain’t going to brandies.

I went out earlier just before six, looking for Ricardio and co. They always rehearse at 6 on Tuesdays, but I couldn’t find them anywhere. I missed the last two due to my back, so may have missed an announcement, but it’s still both annoying and something of a mystery. On the upside, my ribs are hurting less: I’ve been monitoring the pain on a scale from one to ten, as a kind of mental game, and, aside from a few pangs, it hasn’t exceeded 4 or 5 all day. Plus, I had a very productive meeting with robin Nelson this morning: it seems my thesis might not be as bad as I feared!

Now back to looking for Ricardio.

While the pain in my ribs and back has not gone completely, it is now a damn sight better than it was. I think a weekend at home did me good. Mind you, it was agony at times – especially in bed Saturday night. I had to call my parents, who gave me a painkiller. Last night, however, I got a fairly good nights sleep, except that I had to lie on my right side all night which made my leg and arm go dead. This morning, though, I felt able to come back to uni. I have work to do, people to meet, and coffee to drink.

I think watching goldeneye helped.

My rib is either fractured, splintered or broken, so I’ve decided to go home this weekend for a bit of TLC and slob out in front of the television. Of course, they can’t do anything for ribs but give you painkillers, so the best thing for me to do is just keep as still as possible. This is easier said than done for a guy with CP. The thing is though, I don’t have a PC set up at home so I was in a bit of a dilemma as to whether to go. Half my life is centred around the internet, including my relationship with Lyn. I feel guilty when I can’t speak to her but I’ll try to commandeer my parents PC. On the plus side, Esther’s just reminded me that Goldeneye is on this weekend so that’s something to look forward to. Ordinarily I would ask Mum to make a martini to drink with it, but I’ve given up alcohol.

Well at least until after my ribs get better.

Falling is not as easy as it used to be. It used to be much less painful. I went to brandies last night for the neon night. You know me: I can’t resist that sort of stuff. There were all sorts of costumes there. I considered going in a catsuit or leotard, but in the end just put on my new green hoodie I got in London. It’s probably just as well, as about half ten I decided I needed the loo and promptly fell over getting out of my chair. It’s lucky I left the door unlocked because rob, noticing how long I’d been, came looking. We came home.

I woke up in pain. I think I’ve broken a rib or something. My p.a, coming to dress me, could tell something was wrong and called dad. He came, and got me a doctor’s appointment. He should be here soon.

Just when you feel all strong and independent, something like this happens, and knocks you back.

There is this guy on the internet who really has got me riled. I know, I know – I’m always getting riled by people online; I should stop, but half my life is online. This guy calls himself a ‘disabled tory’ and claims to hate liberalism. He told me last night that the French revolution was a mistake, and spouts a load of bull about class. Given he has cp, it is both an irony and a sign of how deluded this guy is that he cant realise it is only through liberal ideals that he enjoys the life he does. Only the state can level the playing field.

I am, of course, a left-leaning liberal. I believe that all people are equal, and should therefore have equal access to things like education and healthcare. All humans have equal potential, irrespective of economic background, ethnicity, ‘class’ or disability. In a way, I’m a communist: the state, as an extension of the people, should not be ruled by an elite. We should all have chance to go into politics run the country, or go into whatever profession we chose. This can only be done if everyone is treated equally, and starts from the same place. If we left market forces to rule the roost, as this moron seems to propose, only the most able and privileged and selfish would rise to the top, resulting in a waste of talent. After all, what about the likes of me? If pure capitalism ruled, we’d be left to starve, never mind that I have a pretty good brain on my head. Why this guy seems to want to cling to outdated values like class and privilege is beyond me. Wealth redistribution, albeit in a limited form, is the most just, intelligent and efficient way to achieve equality and advance society. The alternative is the lazes-faire politics of the nineteenth century.

on top of this, he’s also against the right to protest/riot, spouting some bull about social order or something. The right to protest – to make one’s voice heard – is sacrosanct. What did Mandela do if not protest? Or Gandhi? Or Dr. King? Ballot boxes are good, but sometimes they do not go far enough. thus, to deny the right to civil disobedience – for that is what a riot is – smacks of fascism. Of course, peaceful protests are more respectable and effective than riots, but to deny the right to riot frankly runs counter to all civilisation and democracy.

fool.

It used to really get my goat that my brothers had girlfriends and I didn’t. not just my brothers, but my cousins too. They’re all in happy relationships. Marks been going out with Kat for ages; Luke has yan; my cousin Cyril has Saran; Chris has tom, and alex is married to Suelane. I used to feel very left out, especially when we all got together. But this weekend it struck me that that was no longer so. It’s been a year since I first met Lyn in the flesh; a great year. Okay, it’s had it’s ups and downs, but I think I needed to be sure that she was the one. now I look forward to the day when we’re all together – Lyn by me, Kat and mark, Luke with yan, and so on. Aye, that would be great!

My parents just dropped me off after a weekend in London. It was Greek Easter – the orthodox calendar being slightly out of alignment with the catholic one – so we went down there to celebrate with my grandmother. I’m pleased to say that I had a great time this year. I usually get bored sitting around yaiya’s house, but on Saturday, my cousin’s Christina and Cyril, and Chris’s boyfriend Tom, pushed me into London city centre for a few hours.

I have never actually explored London; not in any great depth, anyway. It was great, then, to spend some time visiting the aquarium, looking at sights, walking along the river with my family. I actually started to like our capital; okay, it lacks the sheer beauty of Paris, and it lacks the equivalent of the champs Ellyses in terms of a main focal street, but I found it not without it’s charm. Hopefully, this will be the first of many such adventures with my cousins.

Well, Saturday night was church; Sunday we mostly stayed in (but my bro Luke had arrived, so it was cool) and this morning we came home. Mind you, I’m now looking forward to living with Lyn in London even more. Imagine it – a thriving metropolis at my fingertips.

Check this out. According to the metro, a 33-year-old man with cp was banned from a pub for being ‘over the limit.’ He’d only had two pints of bud – which is pissweak tastless crap anyway – but was refused a third in order to prevent him from drink driving. Lol. I especially like the last paragraph: ”The chronically sick and disabled person’s act states that invalid carriages like Mr. Cook’s wheelchair are exempt from Traffic laws.

Ha. I is exempt!

Notions such as bravery and uniqueness have been jiggling around my head for a while now. As a disabled person, from time to time people call me brave; I guess I am unique but only inasmuch as everyone is unique. But what makes a person special? I feel that I am neither brave nor special – I’m just myself. Yet I feel that I have found a person who is indeed special in Lyn: she has had to have incredible fortitude and strength in her life. For a time she lived in a scope home, but she escaped and now lives independently in her own flat. On top of this she also had the strength enough to transition from male to female. I find her incredible, and would certainly call her brave, but Lyn has repeatedly denied this – she does not call herself brave, but sees herself simply as a regular person. She says that I am brave, which, of course, is nonsense.

You see the contradiction? I used to think of my friends with MD as brave and stoic, and I guess I still do, yet Andy was just Andy, and donno is just donno: they would simply see themselves as regular guys. Bravery is a perception bestowed upon you by someone else – ultimately, all you can do is be yourself. however, the bit I’ve been mulling over is how to square this with the need to make people question their attitudes? Is what I’ve written about ‘making heads turn’ the same as ‘being yourself’?

Well, for me I think it is. As for Lyn, the fact that she questions attitudes and expands minds is irrelevant to her. Truth be told, I dress as a girl both because it feels good and because it feels good. Thus there’s nothing brave about it, and the fact that it helps people question their attitudes to disability, gender and sexuality is a byproduct which I am happy to exploit.

I’m looking at the picture, taken outside the gym, of me and Charlie in zentai suits, and asking myself why we did that. Was it political? Did we go out to ask questions or make statements? I think it was more a case of having fun screwing with people’s heads; it had nothing to do with disability – indeed, Charlie probably got more attention than I did. Thus there was nothing political or brave about it.

There are some of us who, in a way, go around shouting: ‘look at me, I’m a cripple; see how political I am.’ I object to this behaviour as crass attention-seeking, but am I guilty of it too? Am I merely being an attention seeker, congratulating myself for being all political and provocative? I don’t think so; after all, you don’t have to have c.p to be a tranny, or to wear a zentai suit. I do such things because they feel good, and the fact that they have what I call a political effect is a secondary, if rather funky, by-product. I guess I’m just being myself, and intellectualising it afterwards.

I no longer think I will do a PhD; not this year at least. It’s time for me to admit I’m just not cut out for academic research at this level. It requires rigorous, painstaking work, and frankly I don’t have the patience or perhaps the intelligence for it. Either way, it’s getting too late in the academic year to apply for PhD places, let alone funding.

I have, however, a much better idea. I would like, this autumn, to go and live with Lyn in London. We intend to have a two month trial run to begin with, but if that works out – if Lyn doesn’t realise what a lazy good-for-nothing slob I actually am – it could be permanent. Imagine it: London! It truly is an exciting idea. Of course, we have much to work out in terms of our care etc, but I really think it’s time I made such a move.

I’m tired of waking up alone.