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A Random Life Remembered in Song and Dance ---- A Potential Suicide Prevented through Modern Medicine

01/21/2019 --- Somewhere in Outer Space Dear life, I give up you fuckers, you win, I quit! Seriously. Stop it!!!  --- Some random stranger screaming on the sidewalk heading in to a major department store Random flies skimming through the sky, laughing at me, worthless putz of a kindless fuck, wishing I was dead before the strike of noon, Eastern Standard Time. Misery loves company, that misery is better than the lost love who will haunt your dreams, make you wish you had emptied the bottle of whiskey in a giant gulp, sins of the father, drift into the son, transference, blame game, night time thoughts keeping him awake, is he worth the trouble to keep breathing? We sat there reading our obituaries drinking gasoline, lighting cigarettes as if we didn't care that the sky was raining down acid upon our heads, the gods angry at our misuse of words in the context of the situation. Suicide was not an option, according to Ann Landers, she told us in a letter addressed to Elv...
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Santa! Get a job ya bum!! A Holiday Something - Letter?

It was a dark and spooky night.

"Really?" says the audience from behind the screen.

Not really, but it was a dark and fair night just doesn't have the same "oomph".

I'm sitting here, another Thanksgiving, the start of the holiday seasons is past, and more thoughts hit the mind, such as, "Where the hell has the time gone!?"

It seems like just yesterday I was 8 years old, waiting for Santa (I still wait for Santa, but every year, it seems, the bastard still doesn't have a job, so no toys for me!! Stupid Santa - broke and unemployed since like 1976!! GET A JOB SANTA!!!) and now, here it is, another year, I'm no longer 8, not even a teenager or twenty something, my 40s almost gone in a few more years.

Childish things not put away though as I still have my imaginary friends; Bob still comes to me, wanting to talk about our childhood out in the park, playing hide and seek behind the trees from the police.

"They can't catch us! I got a baggie!!" he says.

I try to explain to him; he's not real, a figment of my imagination, someone who doesn't exist except in my mind, a person for me to talk to when my real friends (I had three!!) were grounded.

But he never listened, he just paced back and forth, eyeing the sky, looking for an UFO or something.

As a child, once, back when they could throw you into a nice padded cell for no reason other than the fact you had a creative mind but before they decided that every thing was ADD, a therapist for the school was called in to evaluate me.

True story.

She sat there in her chair, me in mine, and asked me to draw a picture; of a monster; any monster, one from my mind, then, to give it a story.

I drew some beast with mighty claws and a razor back and a roar to be heard from a 1000 miles.

And the story was how he saved Christmas or Cleveland, I forget.

It was a reversal of what you'd think of such a monster.

The evaluation of my mental stability - I did not know where I was in reference to time and space.

This coming from a doctor; who I doubted really graduated from the May School of Psychology in Fargo, North Dakota, who sat there and told me to perform such an exercise.

I'm guessing I should have just told her I refused to perform like some sort of circus seal, stomped my feet, thrown my hands up into the air and said, BITE ME LADY!!

Then I would have had a nice padded cell at the state home for children I guess, enough meds to kill a bull moose, and apple sauce.

I've discovered through my experiences with "State homes" that they love giving their "residents" apple sauce to go along with the macaroni art they use as "therapy".

So here it is, many years later, and I still don't know where I am in reference to Time and Space.

Possibly Duluth, 1925!


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