This sucks

Sorry for two depressing posts in a row... don't feel obliged to read this one. I'm writing it mainly as self-therapy.

For the last few weeks I've been pretty much incapacitated by violent, crippling panic attacks. This is not a new thing- I've suffered from them, on and off, for most of my adult life. Now and again, though, they get so bad that I'm unable to carry on with my life as normal, becoming almost housebound in particuarly bad weeks. It can take ages to get back on track, usually through counselling, therapy etc. As a result, my course is slipping away from me, my social life has died on it's arse and my trip to New York is all but out of the window. This really sucks.

The attacks are characterised by a racing pulse, dizzyness, pain in my chest and limbs and an absolute conviction that I'm about to die, or pass out or something. Although my rational mind knows I'm not, panic is not rational!

Sorry to whinge on like an Arsenal fan. I know there are people in the world who go through far worse things, and I should probably "pull myself together", or something. All I can say is that I am trying. I know that someday soon I'll be relaxing with a beer in my hand and no tension in my body, firing out witty remarks like the Duncan you all know and love. It can't come soon enough.

John is gone

I'm still reeling (inside) from the news that John Peel passed away yesterday. I think its affected me more than the death of any other famous person... since Freddie anyway. I know people usually die but I'd hoped that God might make an exception just this once. I really thought that one day my children would be able to listen to Chinese death metal back to back with early twentieth century sea shanties on weeknight radio. I was greatly amused recently by an appearance by John on that programme "Grumpy Old Men", in which he bemoaned video recorders for being too difficult to programme- apparently he never got the hang of it in the twenty-odd years that VCRs have been on the market. This sixty-five year old guy had no problem getting to grips with gabba, dancehall, grime or grindcore, but was left bemused by a simple and somewhat outdated piece of recording equipment. Class.

So where do i go to to discover new music now? The internet? The music press? Fanzines? Balls. My radio has lost it's heartbeat and my record collection has lost it's Godfather.