disabled blogger uk

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

please remember I suffer with severe cognitive dysfunction this may be a confusing read. no AI written content

A chaotic yet victorious weekend of repairing a bizarre three-piece wheel hub, silencing squeaky bearings, and preparing the “Three-Wheeled Trolley of Death” for its triumphant return. Alongside the mechanical madness, a milestone of over 300 self-produced AI-enhanced music tracks marks a creative breakthrough.

The Three-Wheeled Trolley of Death is BACK

Well, good evening, good afternoon, fellow humanoids out there in the land of... Well, wherever we are at this time... And place in space. It has been quite the weekend so far. It took me a week, but between myself and Albertine and one of our neighbors, we managed to fix the puncture on the three-wheeled trolley of death. Yes, three people to change a inner tube , but putting the new tube in was not the easiest. I have never encountered taking the front of the wheel hub off. Yes, it was a really weird wheel. I encountered two putting two halves to make a whole wheel with the tube and the tire sandwiched in between. So I managed to get both the wheel nuts off both sides and guess what, there was no lubrication or anything on the bearings for the wheels. So a couple of squirts in there and we have got rid of the squeaks. So hopefully the three wheeled Trolley of Death won't squeak like a squeaky chair on cheap cola.

Still, as I look out of the window, I do see the sun but I see the sky and the clouds of doom are heading towards us im afraid, so it looks like I'm not going to be able to test the three-wheeled scooter of death till tomorrow. But the good news is, the Tyre is still up. Yes, so we didn't fail there. And I'm very much looking forward to taking it out tomorrow on its maiden voyage. It's had a lube job as well on all the bearings because it was the squeaky-squaky machine from squeaky land. Indeed, Albertine was embarrassed to be near me. That's how bad the squeak really was. Now the cat has decided to use my leg as a sharpening implement. Well, it's a good job, I can't feel that, isn't it really? And now she's jumped on my lap and yes, I've had to stop doing what I'm doing because she demands that I give her a good belly rub. Ha ha!

Still, the most amazing thing is I've now got over 300 music tracks that I have now produced. And I'm now using my own voice as well, would you believe? I'm using AI synthesis of some description. This is even better, so not only am I using my own lyrics, I'm now using my own voice. This is just like totally bonkers. I never would have thought this possible in all those many years that I've been alive. As basically, wow, it blows my mind the technology that we have these days and the things we're able to do, isn't it just so wonderful? Yet we can't find anybody to fix a pothole. Oh dear me, such is life though eh?

Still, I went out this morning with Albertine and the Tyre has stayed up and I made sure that the nuts were tightened up on the wheels and the bearings were lubed. We have no squeaks and all the Tyre are ready to go, so the three-wheel trolley of death gets its major outing again tomorrow. Oh yes, will it go faster? Well, anything's fast and about two miles an hour with a brake stuck on. Still, sending everybody peace and healing and trusting that you've had a good weekend as it comes to the end. And hopefully next week will be a better week for me and everybody else out there.

I write in ink and fury, in breath and broken bone.
Through storm and silence, I survive. That is the crime and the miracle.

@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᛞᚱᚨᚷᛟᚾ ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛋᚲᚺᚱᛁᛖᛞ ✦ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ 𒀸𒀭 ᚢᚾᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ

When MS hit, it hit fast. Whammo. It started real bad back in the ’80s, a slow burn that turned into a wildfire. By 2000, my cognition was in total meltdown — fuses blowing left and right, circuits frying. It took a couple more years for the full collapse.

Friends like Morpheus, Stumuzz, Granty Boy, Liberty, Loobz, Shoggy, Beets, JCB33 and a few more whose names slip my mind They were there. I remember every one of them with great fondness. Those were the real ones. The crew who stood by me before the fog swallowed everything.

But then there was Mr Cuda. My best mate. My oppo. He was different. The kind of guy who burned too bright, too fast. And when his fire went out… well, it broke something in me.

He committed suicide. Sad, really sad. His ghost still haunts me.

That ghost is a shadow that never leaves— It follows me in the silence between thoughts, It whispers in the fog that clouds my mind, It’s the weight on my chest in the dead of night, And the ache that never quite fades.

Losing him was like losing a piece of my own soul. Sometimes I swear I can still hear his laugh echoing in the corners of my mind— A reminder of who I was, and who I’ve lost.

The world keeps spinning, but for me, time stopped the day I lost him. And in the chaos of MS tearing me apart—body and brain—it’s that ghost that keeps me tethered to something real.

So this blog? It’s not just my fight against MS. It’s my way of holding on—to my past, my friends, and to the fragments of the man I used to be. It’s a memorial. A scream. A war journal.

Because even broken, even lost, even haunted—I’m still here. And I’m still dangerous.

The Warlock is dead—but the ghost has Wi-Fi.

              “The views in this post are based on my personal        
                 experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”   

                   “By ink and breath and sacred rage, I write.
                           By storm and silence, I survive.”

                   @goblinbloggeruk -  sick@mylivinghell.co.uk