Hello you lovely bunch! Welcome to the new faces here :)
Thursday – 2:22pm – One Whole Day of Summer
One day. One entire, real-life, actual day of sunshine in the North of Scotland. We celebrated like people recently released from a bunker. Drank offensively overpriced rosé in the park. Ate crisps straight from the bag like animals. Didn’t get sunburnt — small miracles.1
My body, bless it, responded to the heat like a flower under a grow lamp. Less rigidity, fewer spasms, and for one glorious evening, I forgot I had a disease named after a dead Victorian man.
Friday – 11:11am – The List That Ate My Sanity
Two shared art exhibitions. One brain. Zero capacity for admin. Cue the spreadsheets, the tape measures, the low-grade panic that I’d label something with the wrong title and spend eternity being asked what "Untitled No.7" actually meant.
I’m proud of what we made. I’m just too bloody knackered to feel it.
Shiprow Exhibition | Kooperator.Space Exhibition
Sunday – 3:30pm – All the Ships, All the People
The Tall Ships are in town and suddenly Aberdeen looks... sparkly? The harbour has never felt so alive. The exhibitions are running at full tilt. Tourists everywhere. Questions, compliments, awkward silences. (The usual art gallery cocktail.)
There is a deep, strange joy in seeing the city through new eyes. Through their eyes. It looks bigger. Brighter. Full of potential.
The Exhibition, Day Whatever
Someone cried in front of one of the art works. Good tears. They said it "spoke" to them. I said thank you and then ran to the back room to pretend I wasn’t also crying.
Parkinson's is isolating. But art...art lets me stay in the conversation.
Monday – 9:05am – Introvert Overload
Talked to more people in 48 hours than I did in the entirety of last year. I'm all smiled out. My cheeks hurt. My brain has shut the gates and put up a "Gone Fishing" sign. The art is holding up better than I am.
Wednesday – 5:47pm – Dystonia, The Bitch
My foot curled today in a way that felt medieval. The muscles in my thigh cramp so hard they leave bruises. Not from falling. Not from bumping. Just the act of being clenched into submission over and over until the blood vessels wave the white flag.
I stared at the mark for ages. The shape of it. Like a continent in some other hemisphere where pain lives rent-free.
Friday – 1:18pm – Jeremiah Returns
The pigeon has returned. Jeremiah, self-appointed overlord of the window sill, made another bid for entry into the living room. Wings like drama. Beady eyes full of intent. I'm beginning to think he wants to co-curate the exhibition.
Sunday – 10:10am – The Finch Family Chronicles
There is a family of finches at the window feeder. They bicker and flap and generally act like tiny winged soap opera stars. I love them. They are the only reality TV I willingly consume.
They scatter the seeds all over the window box which Jeremiah hoovers up - he’s decidedly too fat to manage to get to the feeder.
Monday – 4:30pm – Packing For A Life
The youngest is gearing up for Glasgow. The lists are long and mostly about bedding. I keep forgetting things and she keeps pretending not to notice.
I’m thrilled for her. Bursting, actually. But also quietly panicking about money. Because making a living as an artist with Parkinson's feels like trying to build IKEA furniture with cooked spaghetti.
Tuesday – 12:12pm – Not That Kind of Parkinson’s
I haven’t engaged with the online Parkinson’s community much lately. Too much doomscrolling. Too many "have you tried..." comments. Not enough space for the in-between.
I’m not in denial. I’m just choosing not to drown in it.
Wednesday – 6:00pm – Paint, Pain, Repeat
Made something new today. Something jagged and weird and true. My foot spasmed halfway through and I had to sit on the floor for twenty minutes pretending I meant to be there.
Still finished it though. Paint wins.
Friday – 3:45pm – Rage
Sometimes I get so angry I could boil water with my thoughts. Today the trigger is the benefits system that asks folks like us to prove “how disabled” we are.
Saturday – 8:30pm – Little Joys
All my business cards were taken from the exhibition. That’s a lot of folks taking a wee bit of me home to enjoy and hopefully follow my work online.
Sunday – 5:05pm – Park Bench Philosophy
Sat in the park watching someone juggle. They dropped every third item and just laughed. Picked it back up. Kept going.
It felt... metaphorical.
Monday – 7:19pm – What If It Never Gets Easier?
I don’t want a cure today. I want a cushion. Some relief. A space where I can say, "this is hard" and not be told I’m brave.
I’m not brave. I’m bruised.
Wednesday – 2:30pm – Jeremiah 2: The Reckoning
Jeremiah has brought a friend. They pecked the glass like they were trying to Morse code their manifesto. I have concerns.
Thursday – 6:11pm – Body Math
If one exhibition = 5 spoons
and one cup of coffee = 1 spoon
but cooking dinner = 3 spoons
and I only had 6 spoons today...
Dinner might be toast.
Friday – 1:00pm – This Is Not Nothing
Parkinson's has taken so much. But it hasn’t taken this: the birds, the brushes, the ridiculous pigeons, the daughter who still asks me to help pick out duvet covers.
Still here. Still tired.
But not done.
Sunday – 9:10am – Just This
July: one part art, two parts pain, a dash of dread, and a stubborn aftertaste of joy.
Here’s to bruises, birds, and beautiful things blooming in broken places.
with love
E xxx
Actually it’s been a pretty warm and sunny summer so far. Not always the case. We do live in a dry place, especially in winter, but not big on the warmth stats.
Love your writing, the metaphors, the pace, the content, all of it. What you said about being part of the conversation is something I will add to my "why I write" list. Even when I'm writing something obscure that few will read (critical essays), I feel a part of a larger conversation...thank you!
Your creative spirit sings with such joy from Aberdeen. Your words reach a deeper level of holding understanding of life living with Parkinson’s. Your words are gentle and kind and I feel blessed reading your writing. Much better than doomscrolling.