Electric sex pants!
This note celebrates two events. Firstly, today it’s the 13th anniversary of the first time I tried to kill myself, shortly after paranoid schizophrenia consumed my mind, by slashing my wrists and then getting sectioned in the loony bin a few hours later. Tonight those events seem a terribly long time ago; I suppose they are. Nice to still be here.
The other celebration passed a few days ago, the 10th anniversary of Editor Daniel moving into Elitistreview Towers to stop me doing bloody stupid things like the above. I spent a lot of that time too bloody minded to accept the help that was freely being offered and so still occasionally behaved like a fool, but Dani has kept me alive, cared for and happy in ways I don’t think either of us were really expecting. Thanks Dani, you’ve been carer-tastic and supreme-human-being-licious. You’ve also done sterling service removing the most horrifically offensive bits of my writing. Speaking of which…
