Sunday, 16 September 2012

EPISODE 72: TOOTHACHE.


Welcome to my blog which is having some trouble with toothache, or rather, ache caused by lack of tooth. Taking the tooth to the dentist is harder than it sounds and will probably be unproductive. My dentist, who was old when I first started visiting him in 1982, is now even older and disinclined to retire because he has a wife at home with Alzheimer’s who no longer knows who he is. Since 1982, my dentist has got no better, even when we swopped from NHS non-treatment so some obscure insurance plan, his dentistry remained kindly but inefficient. Eight years ago I moved to another town some thirty miles away and breathed a sigh of relief, only to discover that through the arcane rules of the insurance company it was almost impossible to change dentist without paying over £100 in transfer fees. 

My suspicion is that my dentist is well over 80 years old now. For the past 15 years, he has been regularly fixing the same tooth by building up a pretend tooth on the small root that remains to build on, or, as the dentist says, used to remain to build on. There’s nothing there now, he says. So what is hurting? Could it be that his sight has gone and he just can’t see it anymore? I’m taking painkillers – which I say I never do – and am soaked in teething pain concoctions, none proving successful. I couldn’t sleep last night and today each sip of tea inflames the pain. Ahead lies a day of quietly moaning to myself. I suggest you don’t listen.
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According to Robert Fritz, erstwhile guru of this journal, the two keys to planning successfully are describing the goal and then the current reality. I’m not quite sure whether the sickness in my stomach is a correct response to my present situation, or the toothache or hunger, but when I try to contemplate exactly where I stand in relation to where I need to be, gloom and doubt arise. This week the facebook hits dribbled down and no progress seemed to get made for all the huffing and puffing and meeting and talking. Deadlines set three months ago pass by without anything being done. Last Monday we highlighted three things that had to be done that week; the printing of fliers for one of the gigs, the design of a new poster, and a decision about the Art Exhibition. None of these happened.

There’s only six weeks to go now. Maybe I should be doing something rather than sobbing into my computer. I’ve been trying to pick-up my negative thoughts as I go along because otherwise they settle in and put their feet up. This week I’ve had a familiar feeling which carries with it a monologue about over-reaching myself; getting too excited and going over the top, emotionally or financially. I feel like a drunk who gradually recalls what he did the night before, the undying love he’d declared or the fight he’d got into. I see myself walking the empty streets of Glastonbury on nov 3rd with my friends and family feeling sorry and embarrassed for me. There are worse things in the world than feeling squashed, of course, like toothache, but I hate the bit where I have to pretend to myself that I wish I hadn’t fucked up or got so carried away.
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The radio is talking about the situation in Libya. They seemed to have forgotten that the British and French sorted it all out last year. Like they did in Afghanistan and Iraq. I bet the Syrians can’t wait for our help. Here’s more guns than you can handle. Kill each other; that will do the job.
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How much sympathy do I have for people feeling pissed off because their (imaginary) religious leader has been insulted? Less than zero. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

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Enough of me. Let’s try Einstein.
‘A human being is part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. We experience ourselves, our thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest. A kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from the prison…’
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My tooth continues to throb. I’ve felt fuck awful all day, lethargic and sick. (And yep, I do fuss, or would if there were anyone here to fuss to.) I’ve sat all day in the kitchen, staring at the computer and trying to write two press releases, one for the local paper, another for the Bristol events magazine. Here’s how far I got with the local paper one.

MEXICAN DAY OF THE DEAD COMES TO GLASTONBURY. 

On Saturday November 3rd Glastonbury will host its own version of the annual Mexican festival of remembrance, called the Day of the Dead.
 
Like its Mexican parent, the Glastonbury day will include parties to honour loved ones, celebratory food, mask, costume and memento making activities for all ages, candle-lit ceremonies and vibrant procession. In addition, there will be a program of talks and workshops, theatre, a kids program, cinema and an art exhibition.

Headlining the events which will take place across Glastonbury will the UKs only authentic Mexican mariachi band, MARIACHI MEXTECA; England’s most vibrant hip hop act, THE FOUR OWLS, psychedelic masters FLIPRON and the amazing theatre group COPPERDOLLAR who will lead the Remembrance Procession.

Although proud of the entertainment available, co-organiser and retired bereavement counsellor, John Heston, is keen to point out that the day has a serious purpose.   ‘The Mexicans have a playful relationship with death,’ he says, ‘and that makes it easier for them to help one another through grief and terminal illness. Most of us avoid the subject and this makes it more difficult to know what to do to help when we want to.  This is why we have invited all those concerned with bereavement to use this occasion to help the community know better what they and we can do together to provide compassionate care for all those affected by death and loss.'

As part of the free daytime program at Tor Leisure, the Taboo Theatre Company will put on a performance of the play ‘Home Death’ by Nell Dunn. Afterwards there will be a discussion about this vital topic led by the author who many will remember as the creator of ‘Up the Junction’ and ‘Poor Cow’.

The Glastonbury Day of the Dead is run by a Community Interest Company and relies on volunteers to do its work. ‘Of course we’d like funding and sponsorship,’ says John, ‘but we’re committed to the project and have been inspired by the amount of assistance and advice we have already received. By putting on a mixture of ticketed and free events, we hope to cover our costs and set a standard for the future.’

Cover costs? No chance.

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