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East End [of London] Girl, Doing the Lambeth Walk - Bill Brandt.

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The Bad News:

1. I've had Temporomandibular joint disorder for a few years. It's a pisser. Inflammation around the jaw joint on the right hand side; a lot of earache-like pain and lock-jaw-style tension. Has it's root in stress or emotional tension, but works (in my case) through the agency of slightly poorly aligned teeth on the right side. I may have to have the lower right wisdom tooth yanked out and then some sort of magnificent brace device attached to straighten the wonky ones. Hosanna.

2. Saw my Doc the other day. I've had constant pain in my abdomen for quite a while now. Thought it might be an ulcer, caused by too much designer coffee junk and stress or emotional tension. Turns out its a magnificent resurgence of the Irritable Bowel Syndrome I developed when I was 16. You know when you're really anxious/nervous and your gut is in knots to the point where you wrap your arms across your belly and fold double, and you need to shit? It's like that. Except it never goes away. It only varies in intensity from one hour to the next. And it's worse for some than it is for others. I'm squirming as we speak. I always thought it had gone away, but maybe the constant undercurrent of anxiety I've experienced my entire adult life has its root in this intestinal thing. Though of course the actual cause is stress or emotional tension.

3. I also asked my doc about my skin - I've had very dry skin for a few years now. She says I have a mild case of dermatitis and that moisturising my face two to three times a day will sort it out. I've had to shave my beard off in order to do this. It affects the scalp as well. My hair is slowly falling out and I have dandruff. You're not supposed to use detergents on such afflicted skin, but how do I wash my hair? And I can't very well moisturise my bonce, can I? The ultimate cause is stress or emotional tension.

4. My glasses broke beyond repair a few weeks back and I can't afford a new pair. I'm currently wearing ludicrous- looking old ones that I fished out of a drawer. Poor eyesight is caused by stress or emotional tension.

5. Learned yesterday that one of my favourite singers, Del Shannon, killed himself, back in 1990. Del was most famous for the mega-hit 'Runaway' which everyone must've heard at some point. "Ahm a-walkin in the rain, just walkin in the pourin rain, an ah wonder, ah wa wa wa wa wonder, why, why why why why why she ran away..." His songs, which he wrote himself, unlike most other rock 'n' rollers of the time (early fifties), were noted for their melancholy. In a strange sort of way, I feel more affected by this than I was by the suicide of Kurt Cobain when I was a Cobain- worshippin grunger in my teens.

6. My niece is almost one year old, and it won't be long before she looks up at me and says: "Uncle Iain, why do you live with Nana and Grandad?"

7. The artwork of mine ('Peasant' see pics) that I mentioned a few weeks ago was going into the Glasgow Art Fair not only didn't sell, but the 'agent' didn't even bother to hang the bloody thing. She left it out in favour of other, no-doubt more saleable, items.

8. I'm not very happy.


('Stress' is short for 'distress', by the way).

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The Good News:

1. I've always wondered what it would be like to have a tooth pulled out, and it looks like I'm going to find out. I've always wondered what it would be like to have braces, and it looks like I'm going to find out. And if I can change my heart and mind, the stress or emotional tension will go away.

2. Realising my abdominal ailment is a resurgence of the IBS I developed in my teens has allowed me to see my adult life so far in a whole new light. It has given me a much clearer and simpler view of my long-standing inner troubles. And if I can change my heart and mind, the stress or emotional tension will go away.

3. My thinner, finer hair reminds me of the way my hair was when I was a wee boy, and I love being reminded of when I was a wee boy. I look better in some ways with a balding head; more sort of masculine and, dare I suggest, handsome; it kind of suits me and my head is a nice shape. I look better without my beard, in some respects; I look younger and, dare I say it, more handsome (or at least I do with a bit of stubble; clean-shaven I look like a big girl). I feel younger as well, like I'm about twenty. And if I can change my heart and mind then the stress or emotional tension will go away and my skin will, and hair may, return to normal; and if the hair doesn't then at least I won't have painfully sensitive skin under it anymore.

4. My glasses broke beyond repair a few weeks ago, and I can't afford a new pair. I believe poor vision is psychosomatic, with its root in deep-seated stress and emotional tension. And glasses make eyesight worse. My poor vision first developed when I was 13, a time of great worry and fear for me. I didn't want to grow up, and I didn't want to be a part of the world, because nobody had shown me anything good about the adult world, only the misery. I withdrew sharply into myself; my vision grew poor. By 18 I was depressed and suicidal. When I was 19 and in second year of art college, my vision improved. That time was marked by a great confidence that had arisen in me for my talent as an artist and my ability to cope with life as an independant adult like any other. I was shot down by various things, dropped out, and have been slumbering ever since, feeling that there's no reason to exist. But it is only the attitudes of others that make this seem real. I am still a talented artist, indeed, more talented in my maturity, and even more capable of living as an independant adult. The belief that I am worthless is a delusion based on my reluctance to foist my personality on the world. I am ashamed of myself, but it must end; I have nothing to be ashamed of. I am correcting the flaw made in my being when I was 13. I am changing my heart and mind to rid myself of stress or emotional tension, and my vision will get slowly better the less I am ashamed of myself, that is, the more confident in face of life I become.

5. Del Shannon wrote and performed some damn good songs. 'Runaway' is one of my all-time favourite songs, I kid you not. He had a wonderful, haunting voice. He was known, even close to his death, for his child-like enthusiasm, not just for making and performing music, but for all things. He was still performing right up to the end of his life, and those close to him describe with joy and admiration how he would always give it his all when he got up on stage to belt out his numbers; he was no ageing star out to make a quick buck; he loved music and delighted people with his talents at every opportunity. But like many child-like and enthusiastic people, original and gifted people who stand out in the crowd, he had depression. His wife blamed the then new drug Prozac for his suicide, even taking the pharmaceutical company to court (she lost).

6. If I'm still living with my parents when my niece is old enough to notice, then at least I'll be closer to her, and I may even be a positive influence on her. I'm going to encourage her to paint; and I'm going to tell her fairy tales and teach her how to finger-knit.

7. I have my 'Peasant' picture back and it's decorating my room. I kissed it when I got it back. And four of my drawings are up on Huck's website Rain Over Bouville. Go! Look! Enjoy!

8. I will endeavour, in my heart and mind, to receive both suffering and joy with equanimity. I will learn to appreciate that suffering makes me a better person by observing myself before and after a certain pain, and realising that I am a better person after it than I was before it, that I have been matured by it in some way.

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Joan of Arc. What a gal.