You say potato I say bro'-tato

My new store du jour is Commonsense Organics.

It's full of fresh vegetables, fruits, grains, carob treats, juices and supplements.

Not to mention sweet smelling natural moisturisers.

Oh yeah, and as the sign at the door proudly points out, a most brilliant local delicacy, too.

I'll 'kia kaha' with this 'kai'.

Pee

I just love what this image represents

A cute little spaceship.

Delivering a dose of healing potion.

And heralding a brighter more vibrant life.

It's on my desktop as an analogy for my upcoming treatment and successful recovery.

Pee

PS - No, I haven't turned to Scientology (hee hee).

They rolled out the red carpet at oncology

For the past four weeks I've been fed bits and pieces of diagnostic documentation and undertaken a battery of big picture cancer tests (as regular readers know).

But today I received the final and possibly most insightful piece of my 'road to wellness' puzzle - the point of view of the oncologist. The specialist who analyses all data and helps shape my bionic return.

So what did he tell me?

Firstly, that I have 'stage two seminoma testicular cancer'* which will require three phases of chemotherapy to treat it.

Secondly, that statistically this form of cancer gives me a 90%+ certainty of being alive in five years time (and cured of THIS outbreak).

I'm hugely chuffed about this.

'Cos with an enormous team of friends and family on my side, an amazing new diet and the introduction of meditation into my life I'm going to make a liar of that statistic.

I'm going for a 110% outcome. Bloody oath.

Mind over matter. And that's all that matters.

My chemotherapy will likely start on Monday 15 September and consist of three x three week cycles.

Each cycle will see me spend five days in hospital receiving chemical cocktails via an IV drip.

And then two weeks at home recuperating.

Just like that - all wrapped up by November 17th-ish.

Six weeks later my hair should start growing back.

Not a bad Christmas gift methinks.

My focus now is on getting my immune system strengthened ahead of the second week in September.

Lots of nutrient rich foods and juices. Lots of funny movies. Lots of rockin' music. Lots of love.

Pee

*http://www.acor.org/tcrc/tcprimer.html

Celebrating my 100th milestone

As promised way back, here are a couple of streakers - clearly excited at me having knocked up my century of posts.

Hmmm.

Not sure I'd be baring all if I was that guy.

Pee

PS - I know they're not streaking on cricket pitches so my whole 'scoring a century' analogy is a little tenuous - but cut me a break, yeah?

NSK-9082

That's my National Health Index number paying homage to the mighty George Lucas flick, 'THX-1138'.

And a visual reference for my trip to the oncologist tomorrow to discuss my chemotherapy and radiation plan.

Should be a fascinating conversation - talking toxins and cell reduction.

This cancer lark has given me a whole new vocabulary.

Pee

Drugstore cowboy

I've been off my pain medication for two days.

Didn't want to become addicted to a daily cocktail of Codeine, Panadeine and Panadol.

Thankfully I've experienced no hallucinations. No cold turkey gobbling.

Just the relief that comes from getting artificial inhibitors out of my body.

Pee

Sweet dreams are made of this

Last night was the first night since my July 29th operation that I had a largely unbroken sleep.

Weeks ago I was itching and scratching for hours on end.

More recently I've been up watching late night cable TV and ridiculous amounts of Olympic action to help tire me out.

But last night I was sleepy at 9.30pm. Went to bed. Awoke a couple of times for a wee (I'm drinking litres of juice and herbal tea), but slept pretty well right through until 7am.

I'm hoping this is the start of a more regular pattern for me.

Pee

A word or three about farts

You all know that I find farts really, really funny.

The noise more than the smell.

But will happily giggle at a combination of the two.

Anyhoo, the point of this post is to say that given my dramatic dietary overhaul my bum trumpet's been playing some hilarious notes of late.

Wish I had a recording device so I could let you all hear them.

They'd make you proud.

I think that a really healthy body naturally makes loud fart action.

An unhealthy one while more silent, is generally much stinkier.

Pee

What did you have for breakfast today?

Breakfast used to be such a hit-and-miss-grab-and-run affair for me.

These days I really look forward to packing in a bowl and sideplate of goodness that'll set me up for the day.

This morning?

A glass of lemon juice and warm water
One serve of probiotic enzymes
Natural oat and berry muesli with soy milk and greek-style honey yoghurt
Organic toast with manuka honey
One lovely ripe banana
A handful of sunflower seeds and pine nuts

Who'd have thought?

Pee

Opening my mind to new possibilities

A special person told me about a guy called Ian Gawler late last week.

He's a very wise Australian cancer survivor and the driving force behind The Gawler Foundation.

His theories on cancer and conquering cancer are insightful and inspiring.

I'm reading his book at the moment (in tandem with 'The Art of Happiness').

In essence, Gawler says that a 'healthy' body cannot have cancer. A healthy body's immune system will eradicate cancer before it shows itself physically. If the body's natural immunity is broken (as a result of elements such as diet - a 35% factor, infections, stresses, geophysical catalysts and pollutants) then cancer can take hold.

To conquer cancer and live a long, full life one has to completely restore the body's natural immunity (not just remove the 'visible' cancer tumour/s - they will return if the body's natural ecosystem remains flawed).

How one restores the body's natural immunity differs from person to person depending on what type of cancer they have, but to cut a long story short, in tandem with the support of modern medicine there are three key steps to wellness:

1. Diet (mine has already had a major overhaul - probiotics, grains, legumes, fresh vegetables and fruits - amazing)
2. Meditation (I'm studying it right now)
3. Positive affirmation/ thinking (already well onto it - thanks in the main to all of you who've given me such strength)

While to some Gawler's theories may sound a bit 'hippy', when you absorb them fully it's like 'duh, common sense'.

And even though I currently still have the disease present in my body (pending upcoming treatment), after three weeks of diet wonderfulness and positive reflection I'm feeling bizarrely brilliant.

Pee

My two-step Jason Donovan makeover

I'm getting my hair cut today. It's a little long and ratty.

I've looked to Australia's teen-pop king himself for inspiration as I prepare myself for chemotherapy.

Firstly, I'm going to get the Jase 1988 cut - short at the sides and back but full through the body.

Then in a few weeks time I'll go for his more recent closely-shaven (derelict) look.

Which means there won't be too much follicle suffering when the anti-cancer chemicals kick in during September.

Pee

A very special gift just arrived

Wow.

Another beautiful package just arrived on my doorstep.

Inside? A copy of 'The Art of Happiness' by HH Dalai Lama and Howard C. Cutler.

It was sent by a very special person.

Wow (said with a faint voice that's a little overcome).

I will read this bestseller over the weekend.

I'm not sure what the Dalai Lama's written in it.

But what I already know is that 'The Art of Happiness' is simply being surrounded by an amazing group of friends on both sides of the Tasman.

And for that I'm a blessed wee boy.

Pee

Leaping into my iTunes chart

I've had Kermit's 'The Rainbow Connection' on high rotation over recent days.

The lyrics are super.

"Who said that every wish would be heard
and answered when wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that and someone believed it.
Look what it's done so far."

Pee

I'm still feeling stink

Yesterday when I was at the local store buying lunch supplies I saw a green stink bug (Nezara viridula).

It was upside down on its back on the driveway trying to right itself.

My immediate thought was to squat down, let it latch onto my finger and then pop it into a nearby bush.

But a car was quickly coming my way so I hustled off.

I'm still feeling sorry for the little guy. Is he cool? Did he get back home?

Next time I'll stand my ground in the face of an oncoming vehicle.

The karmic balance of life is something I'm thinking a lot more about these days.

Pee

Me's getting into shape

Pee

I'm Rocky Balboa, my cancer is . . . ?

Early on I took the advice of the professionals who said you should personify your cancer so you can visualise it getting its arse kicked during chemotherapy.

And as many of you know I firstly chose the evil parasite from the movie 'Cloverfield'.

However, since yesterday's diagnosis, I've decided to make this fight a little more human.

So I'm gonna be the mighty Rocky in this scrap.

The question is whether to fight Apollo Creed, Clubber Lang or Ivan Drago?

Apollo Creed was too much of a poseur. Too show-offy to be cancer.

Clubber Lang was way too lippy. And we all know cancer's largely a silent type of killer.

So I guess I'm picking Ivan Drago. He's absolutely like cancer - aggressive, unremorseful, genetically altered and terrifyingly foreign.

Either way we know Rocky's gonna win through dogged determination and grit. (Plus some inspirational action-based music montages.)

This'll help fire me up throughout the chemotherapy.

And I ain't gonna stop till Drago's on the canvas crying his little eyes out.

"Nyet. Nyet."

"Da, motherfucker, you're nailed!!"

Pee

The Sopranos on my doorstep (yikes)

I returned from my daily walk to find a whole collection of gangsters on my front doorstep.

A 'DVD care package' from David Kneebone (and friends) to help get me through the odd sleepless night I've been struggling with.

I've never watched 'The Sopranos' so am mighty excited. I have heard it's super pistol-whipping stuff.

Thanks, DKNZ (you'll find this fashionable brand in the directory straight after the lesser-known DKNY).

Sir, will definitely catch up for a coffee (or in my case a green tea) within the next week.

Thanks again for your kind thoughts.

Pee

The world's coolest boy band?

Hee hee.

What the fuck?

Tessa just sent me this picture from late last year.

Westlife and Boyzone - eat your little wussy hearts out.

'JMW4' is in the hood.

(From left to right: Petey D, Pee, Matty J and Linus the D-meister).

We'll be at the Enmore Theatre for four nights in November.

That's another incentive for me to get back to full health.

Pee

My cancer diagnosis - an analogy

As most of you know I visited my urologist yesterday for the 'big picture diagnosis' - post testicle review and CT body scan.

Matt Jones best summed it up when he said the results could have been:

1. Brilliant
2. Good
3. Bad

I like to think I got 'Good'.

'Brilliant' would have meant that the cancer was confined to the right testicle they had already removed.

'Bad' would have been that the cancer had spread to vital organs and become pretty feral (my biggest fear given earlier blood marker readings that suggested the cancer was mobile).

'Good' was me being told that the CT scan showed that the cancer was not in my lungs. Not in my liver. Not in my bones. Not in those places that would have scared the shit out of me.

However, it did show that a gland in my lower back that directly 'links to and feeds' the testicles does have cancer present (hence the gland being enlarged all those weeks ago and being responsible for touching against nerves which in turn caused my excrutiating back pain).

It also showed that there was a much smaller cancer linked to a gland in my chest area (not my lungs).

While my urologist used the term 'glands' not 'nodes', the key now is to crush the cancer in those two glands with chemotherapy and most probably a whack of radiation before they get the chance to do any more nastiness within my body.

I have whipped up the following analogy to help myself visualise what it all means . . .

Imagine my body as a beautiful, white plush living room rug. (Um, I'm not saying I'm beautiful and white, but a very expensive, pristine floor covering is something we all fear might be irreversibly damaged by stains and blemishes and splotches.)

Now imagine walking in one day and finding someone's knocked over a bowl of sticky, chocolate-dipped strawberries atop a coffee table in the middle of your beautiful white rug - a very obvious threat to its future.

Eeeek. Quickly remove the bowl and the spilled strawberries (my testicle).

Then look around and see whether any other chocolate-dipped treats have dropped onto the floor and damaged the rug anywhere (my CT scan).

Be pissed off, but a little relieved to find that only two of the fruity fiends have in fact landed in isolated spots (my glands).

Get in the best cleaning agents to attack and tidy up the two isolated blemishes (my chemotherapy/radiation).

Then watch carefully to make sure that someone who may have been in the living room earlier didn't step on a chocolate-dipped strawberry and potentially return to re-grubby the rug with their dirty soles (my ongoing check-ups to ensure that the cleaning agents have done their job).

It's a 'Good' scenario.

'Bad' would have definitely been that a whole party of people had already trampled the strawberries right throughout the rug leaving it in a state of disrepair.

Make sense? Hee hee.

I'm just looking forward to the cleaners coming in to get that white rug back into top nick.

I will be meeting with my oncologist in the next couple of weeks to set up the chemo/radiation calendar - most likely kicking off in mid-September*.

You now know what I know.

While I didn't get the all clear, I kinda wasn't expecting to.

Because of the peculiar blood markers from day one there was always the concern that there might be a little mess to tidy.

And therefore chemotherapy was always mentioned.

So I'm good with that.

I'm now focusing on getting myself strong for the next round of treatment.

And tidying up those two chocolate-dipped strawberries.

Knowing that the bowl of 'em has long since been taken away.

My mind is now all over this matter.

And I can take the next step.

Positively.

'Cos positivity is one of the best drugs in the fight against cancer I reckon.

Pee

* I did ask my urologist whether I'm at risk of 'karking it' before my chemotherapy starts. He looked at me oddly and said, "No, there's no risk of you karking it". I'll take his word for it. Hee hee.

The game of my life

I was never much of an arcade fiend in my youth.

Hiding out in the shadows and flipping coin after coin into the machines seemed like a huge waste of time and money.

But as I head to my urologist this afternoon to get the results of my CT scans (chest, abdomen, pelvis) and a reading on the nature of the cancerous activity in my now long gone testicle, an arcade game seems like the perfect analogy.

All I'm asking for is a little break to help me get to the next level.

To keep the game alive.

To push on.

And experience all the sights and sounds of every new screen that comes my way.

Pee

If I could sing it I would

While I like to pretend I can belt out a tidy word or two, in saying thanks for the spirited lift I got today from people (you know who you are), I'm dedicating two fine riffs from the classic 80's track 'That's What Friends are For' . . .

"And I never thought I'd feel this way
And as far as I'm concerned
I'm glad I got the chance to say
That I do believe I love you."

"Well, you came and opened me
And now there's so much more I see
And so by the way I thank you."

Thanks for being there.

Tomorrow is a new day.

A good day.

Regardless of what news I'm given when I meet with my urologist.

Pee

Thinking ahead to my chemotherapy

Nothing more to say than that.

Pee

Giving Coke the cold shoulder

"Hello, my name's Philip, and I'm a Coca-holic."

Such was my outlook on the 21st of July 2008.

I could bearly (pun clearly intended) make it through the day without a bottle of the classic brown sugary potion.

Hell, I could hardly wait till 11am for my fix.

But on the 22nd of July I was told I have cancer. And as per an earlier blog I made the decision right there and then to only put into my body stuff that will make it stronger.

Coca-Cola clearly didn't make the cut.

So for some 29 days I've been Coke free.

And even with an unopened six-pack staring at me from the pantry every day I've no desire to touch the stuff again.

I'm using this little example as a reminder to myself that the mind is a very powerful thing.

I plan to use it to its fullest during my upcoming treatment.

Pee

Pee soup

I used to think that soup was only for a mummy's boy who had a matching scarf and thermos.

Having shunned the world of brilliant bowl-based broths for too long I'm now making up for lost time.

I reckon soup's the most nourishing, easy to make, heart and body warming yumminess I know right now.

I'm noshing on a delicious serving of organic creamy country chicken as I write this.

Tomorrow it's pumpkin and herbs.

There's hope for me yet.

Pee

I want to be like Mike

Sure, Michael J. Fox has Parkinson's, and not cancer, but the way he approaches his disease is the way I want to keep approaching mine.

I read his book 'Lucky Man' many years ago and found it hugely inspirational.

So I went to the local library last night and borrowed it for a re-read.

It's going to be my bible for the next few days.

Helping me to get through a mental rough spot.

Pee

I'm feeling kinda down today

It's not rock bottom.

More like small pebble bottom.

Caused in the main by frustration.

Frustration that comes from:

1. Not being able to participate fully in life.
2. Letting my family down and putting pressure on them.
3. Watching too much late night cable TV.
4. Not being able to sleep any other way than on my back.
5. Having to strategically plan a daily shower rather than just enjoy it.
6. A slow-healing operation scar.
7. The Wellington winter that makes the same said operation scar throb.
8. Not knowing what's next for me.
9. Missing all my friends at Jack Morton.
10. Having being sidelined from myself for a month.

It's caused me to shed a few tears this morning.

Pee

Missing being part of stuff

Nice work, team.

Pee

A spin through my fave record store

I forgot to mention that last week after my CT scan I popped into my regular haunt, Real Groovy.

It's a place I have visited every weekend for over a year.

A place filled with old LPs, cool retro tees, pop culture books and endless DVDs.

Last Thursday's visit was my first appearance in almost a month.

But this wasn't about adding to my collectibles.

It was simply about helping myself feel normal - a great escape from all that's going on.

The smell of the old vinyl. The sound of indy CDs blaring. Thumbing through musical biographies. Skimming through racks of cool tees.

I didn't need to buy anything.

I was rich from the experience alone.

Thanks for being there, Real Groovy.

Pee

I'm loving the word 'snow'

My mind is constantly captivated by everyday little things PC (post cancer).

It hailed so hard last night that a little bank of snow-like whiteness gathered in our courtyard.

I said the word 'snow' out loud and marvelled at how beautiful it sounded.

And was warmed at the same time by my childhood skifield memories.

To quote Mr. Swan: "The existentialists said that life justified life. That an awareness of the aspects of the moment - each present moment - is life."

How true.

Make sure you all take the time to look around.

Life is truly wonderful.

Pee

Best sneakers, hands (and feet) down

Thanks to Mr. Paul Edwards for a piccie of probably the coolest treads on the planet.

Rockin'. Rollin'.

Thanks, too, for your best wishes, man.

They'll go in a little jar on my desk.

A very special little jar.

Pee

I'm dropping my pants at every opportunity

It's out of control.

With so many specialists having studied my boy bits I've lost all sense of shyness.

Was at the GP an hour ago and pretty much had my shorts down before I'd hit his consultancy room.

Am about to head to the local newsagent.

Might flash my scar just for fun.

"Check this wound, luv. It's the result of a radical orchidectomy."

Pee

Living up to my moniker

Am now home safely post my CT scan.

How was it?

Hmmmmm. Interesting to say the least.

First up they made me drink yet another bloody Ioscan sachet. Was truly on the point of hurling.

I then had to sign a disclaimer in case I had an allergic reaction to the pending procedure or my kidneys failed (whichever came first).

Why?

Because the stuff they were shortly to inject me with is pretty harsh on the old renal bags. Very comforting.

Um, let's take a quick step back in linear time.

The actual poke and prod stuff began with the lovely nurse plunging a needle and drip into my arm to administer a good ol' saline washout. They wanted me well clean for the blast of 'tingly juice' I previously had to sign the disclaimer for.

It was then into the CT scan room. On my back on a slab. And then in and out of the chamber for baseline readings.

So far so good.

Then they slid me out and administered the solution that will help them truly see what's going on inside my chest, abdomen and pelvis. Yep, the 'tingly juice'.

This is what I was told . . .

"Philip, we're about to release the liquid into your bloodstream," said the senior technician. "You'll feel a burning sensation throughout your body in about 15 seconds along with the feeling that you're urinating. But you won't be. So just relax, yeah?"

Um, relax? Fuck off. Is this gonna really burn? Tickle? Will I actually piss myself? Bleed out? Faint? Fuck!!!!

Back into the chamber I went praying that there was a happy ending right around the corner. I wasn't to be disappointed. But it wasn't quite what I was expecting. The sensation hit me hardest in what I suspect was the male G-spot. A brilliant tingle throughout the whole cross section of my groin. Front. Back. Inside. Out.

Warmth. Release. Bliss.

It was the most fun a guy could have with himself without the need for any self-fiddling shenanigans.

Before I could even light a self-shag cigarette and celebrate I was tossed out and shuffled to the post-scan waiting room.

They wanted to monitor me for 20 minutes to see that I didn't take a turn for the worse (yep, that old disclaimer clause).

Eight cups of cold water later and I was still in good shape, so they said I could go.

And that's when the adventure became even more memorable.

My bladder is pretty shabby at the best of times and with about 1.5 litres of cold water in the pee pee pouch I knew I'd need a clear run home on the freeway just to be sure.

But it wasn't peak hour so not a problem.

Dah-duh (cue the sound of the bad luck game show buzzer).

Major roadworks halfway home.

We crawled and crawled and crawled. And I needed to pee. Desperately.

What to do?

Miraculously, I had just finished a plastic bag of dried fruit and nuts. Saved.

A DIY catheter-style thing.

But did it have a hole in it? I'd be screwed if mid-flow it started leaking. So would Jo's Mum's front seat.

The other challenge was that in the traffic crawl we were surrounded by SUVs and vans, so they could see down into our car.

Arse.

I removed my seatbelt, built a small bivouac with my jacket and let rip. Aaaaaaaaah.

Good news. No leaks. Just a bag full of warm urine to dispose of.

The local supermarket foyer rubbish bin did the job.

I was then free to comfortably stroll the aisles and stock up on more bottles of water for the remainder of the day.

They want me to gulp about 3 litres before I go to bed.

Here's to a night of up-and-down action methinks (but not the type you'd most like).

Just another average day in my new world.

I'm off to get the stitches removed from my groin tomorrow. Doesn't bear thinking about.

Sheeesh.

Pee

My drink du jour

I have my CT scan this afternoon (aka 'Indiana Jones and the Chamber of Claustrophobia').

To help the scan crew to see inside me I've got to knock back three sachets of Ioscan GI Cat Scan Concentrated Solution.

What's in it?

Sodium Diatrizoate 3.705g (equivalent to 2.2g of organically bound iodine).

And Methyl Hydroxybenzoate.

It tastes like it sounds.

Pee

My sketchbook workings

Just starting to play with colours and content layout thoughts for my first little book.

As these very early scribbles suggest.

I've 50 pages of 'wee lessons' to work up.

All good fun.

Pee

A mighty big adventure for me

I've just returned from the local shops.

It's the farthest I've wandered from home in two weeks.

In fact, apart from hobbling to the end of our street - where our GP is handily located - and popping out onto our back deck, I have been inside pretty much the whole time.

It was fantastic to stroll along the street, visit a money machine, browse the produce aisles and select lunch groceries.

As I've said before, it's amazing how much the little things matter when they're taken away from you.

Self reliant is me. Again. Yay.

Pee

PS - I bought fancy cheese, fresh green salad, a wholegrain baguette, cranberry juice, Nivea face moisturiser and a current affairs magazine. How my tastes have changed PC (post cancer).

The outlook for Thursday

Tomorrow I have an arvo date with a super-flash CT scanner.

The med geeks are gonna peek into my chest, abdomen and pelvis for any signs of additional cancer action.

The pre-scan instructions came in the mail. About seven pages of them.

Drink this. Don't eat that. At exactly this time. And not before. Or after. Do you have bland nodular goitre? Or hypersensitivity to x-ray contrast media? How the fuck would I know? What's hypersensitivity to x-ray contrast media anyways? All I know is I'm allergic to the dodgy nightgowns they make you wear when you head into the scanner. That question wasn't on the sheet.

I might swallow a really small toy soldier tonight and see what they make of that.

I can tell them it's an anti-cancer operative.

Pee

Sleepless in Welly Part Two (Redux)

Well, another night of mild insomnia has left me a little jaded.

Into bed last night at 10.28pm.

Asleep quite fast after taking a herbal sleep remedy (I swear it was toothpaste and rum).

Awake again at 11.44pm with a slightly sore back. (Some quick hot water bottle action and a stretch and it was gone within half an hour.) I think it's a result of so much lying on my back with a pillow under my knees.

So, back to the lounge went I.

Building a little pillow-based nest then strapping myself in for about four hours' worth of cable TV action.

Blind Date. Monk. Law & Order SVU. Dexter.

The latter being one of the most brilliant shows on the box. Well worth the wait.

Then into bed at 4.11am wearing a dodgy beanie.

Awoke at 8.46am.

The kids had already gone to school with their grandmother.

The house was quiet. My Jo was quietly ironing her work clobber.

Really does feel like a parallel universe I'm living in right now.

Pee

A sneaky blow job?

My sister rung today. She's a theatre nurse.

As a recent reader of this blog she told me the trick to making my groin wound heal more quickly was to keep it clean and dry.

I've been doing okay with the former, but wearing a gauze dressing has mean't the wound has remained a little damp post its regular (and natural) daily oozing.

She suggested exposing the wound to the sunshine for a few minutes a day.

Um, we live in Wellington. And it's winter. So I'm unlikely to rely on that avenue for success.

The second option she offered up was to dry it with a conventional handheld hair dryer.

So I gave that a whirl this afternoon.

Lock bathroom door. Drop pants. Face mirror. Go.

Mmmm.

It felt good. Too good in fact.

While I was concentrating on making sure the air flow targeted my wound, occasionally as my aim faltered I gave my you-know-what a nice blast of warm breath. Gold.

Am looking forward to another 'blow drying session' before bed tonight.

Thanks, sis.

Pee

It's hip to be square, yeah?

Someone commented that listening to Huey Lewis is enough to put an elephant into a coma. So they were fascinated that his music hadn't cured my insomnia in the wee hours of this morning.

Is it just me? Does anyone else think that the mighty Hubert of Lewisville is the undisputed coolmeister of rock 'n soul?

'The Power of Love' (Back to the Future), 'I Want a New Drug', 'Heart of Rock & Roll', 'Stuck with You', 'Heart and Soul' - need I go on?

Some people say Huey's a poor man's George Thorogood.

Hmmmm.

Depends if you prefer The Beatles to the Rolling Stones.
Or Bruce Springsteen to John Cougar Mellencamp.
Spandau Ballet to Duran Duran.
Fall Out Boy to My Chemical Romance.
Cyndi Lauper to Madonna.
50 Cent to Ice-T.
Eric Clapton to Jimi Hendrix.
Peter Andre to Right Said Fred.
Bananarama to The Bangles.
Lionel Richie to Marvin Gaye.
Coldplay to Bucks Fizz.
The Vines to The Wiggles.

Pee

Prue and her shoe

Just a little note to Prue B to say thanks for sending me some cool sneak action.

Love to look at flash trainers and drool - even though I'm a die-hard Converse Chuck Taylor fan.

Keep the shoes a-comin'.

If anyone else can beat this bewdy, fire it my way.

Can't let Prue have a monopoly when it comes to funky footwear.

Pee

Sleepless in Wellington

My sleep patterns are all over the place.

Last night I thought I was tired and went to bed and read at 9.20pm.

I was asleep around 9.40pm.

But woke up again at 10.25pm.

And didn't get back to sleep until 5am.

That's some six-and-a-half hours of listening to Jackson Browne, Huey Lewis, Joy Division and A-ha on my Walkman, catching re-runs of CSI on cable - as well as some dodgy Ukrainian light porn, walking about the house, drinking cups of tea, reading bumpf and just looking outside into the wee hours of darkness (imagining what the nocturnal animals are getting up to).

Insomnia is a very strange sensation for me.

I'm not sure what country my body clock currently lives in?

Pee

Another quick scribble

Chat to you all tomorrow.

Pee

Saying 'Hi' to a far-flung blog reader

Nice to have you on board.

Hope all is well in Minnesota's best kept little secret.

A pop cultural piece of living and breathing 'Fargo' country.

Hmmm. Sharing stories about my knackered man-bits wasn't how I'd originally imagined going global.

But is there a smarter readership anywhere on this planet than in Brainerd?

Pee

Advertising is a funny thing

Or a fucked thing (if you're nattering with Matt Jones).

That debate aside, it is curious how you only really register an ad when it registers with you.

I can't remember seeing any ads for cancer in the past year.

But in the last three weeks I've seen tens of them.

Mainly sick mums. Sick kids. Sad music. Grey tones.

All of them melancholy and full of 80-piece heart-string orchestras.

When I'm through this experience I'm going to recommend better ways to market brand cancer to people (like the image above) to make them want to help donate vital funds rather than run a mile because of the cloud of depressing gloom that hangs over every piece of communication.

If I see another sad-faced bald head I'm going to slap it Benny Hill style.

Pee

Ronaldhino versus Bazza and Stuey and . . .

. . . Roger and Ryan and who the heck cares.

It was pretty surreal to watch Brazil play NZ last night in an Olympic pool match.

Even though it was largely an under-23 Brazilian side, with the mighty Ronaldhino as the elder statesman, the Kiwi boys were lucky they only took a 5-0 bath.

Now I know what it must be like for Portugal when they play the All Blacks at the Rugby World Cup.

Pee

Olympians make me feel a little crap

I've had a little time on my hands to catch Olympic Games coverage.

And it hurts.

You see these fit buggers pushing themselves to break personal best records, Olympic records and ultimately, world records.

As a person who has kept kinda fit all my life I'm struggling with being laid out on my back or in a comfy chair.

I'd give anything right now to be able to take a light run along the river, stroll the local supermarket, hell, even just lie on my side at night.

That goal's shaping my fitness regime right now.

Stretching (carefully). Light resistance (even more carefully).

I'm not chasing a medal.

Just the chance to take part in everyday life again.

Pee

Thanks Steve for the double flick tip

All the way from Iraq, a great tip for some great 80's cinema.

Matthew Broderick versus Kelly LeBrock.

The mighty Anthony Michael Hall and Ally Sheedy doing their thing.

Brilliant.

Thanks also to P-Dawg for 'The Goonies' and 'Stand By Me' stack-up.

Keep 'em coming.

Pee

Bubble fun in the shower this morning

It was my own 'American Beauty' plastic bag moment.

As I was showering this morning a really cool big lather bubble formed on my right thigh.

I went to pop it but it wouldn't pop.

So I moved it up and down my thigh. Then took it up my right side to my ribs. Across my stomach. And down the left hand side to the opposing thigh from whence it came.

It then popped.

Weird to say this but I kinda missed that bubble once it had gone.

I then focused on cleaning and dressing my ever-improving wound.

Then dried myself.

Clothed.

Applied some Davidoff 'Adventure' fragrance.

Had a cup of tea.

And carried on my day.

Pee

PS - I'm now at my desk furthering my 'Life's Wee Lessons' book.

Lessons from 'God'

Just finished EC's autobiography over the weekend (started it about eight months ago, popped it on the shelf and forgot to get back to it until Saturday gone).

A truly good read.

And lots of poignant lessons for me in terms of focus, positivity and soul-searching.

You'd be surprised at how many setbacks Slowhand had. But got himself through.

Am listening to his greatest hits as we speak.

Pee