(property of Fine Art America)
Let's see: Some great God-fear has risen in me, and brought me to a mania that's been flowing out of me in incorherency (not a word but its definition is implied). It's a force to be reckoned with, and I think this insanity will be at least interesting enough to merit a read or two. I hope, desperately, that this writing won't be taken lightly, and might show the world just how mangled my perception is. It's a choice for me; I can restrain the craziness, or let it go and let everyone know just how much of a nightmare the world can truly be.
Here's a start.
There was something different about today. Not the earth cracking in Japan or the imminent tsunami that flared by me in the news, so far-far away that I can't even fathom the terror or humiliation those governments and frightened people are experiencing. No, it's a freedom, in a sense. Something bigger than me, bigger than life, and certainly flowing directly through and out of the universe. It would be too BOLD of me to speak certainly like I have answers about anything or a solution to the rampant issues that plague this rotten society I call home. What's different is the peace and love in me now, some laurel wreath pasted definitely in my soul that keeps me running on like a literal Caesar of America (Hunter S., that good old boy who taught me the irony and joy of ironically using the American Dream to my inappropriate advantage). But enough of this blather. I've got to explain this insanity, and word salad, lest I be cast out as a heretic or something along those fine lines.
I was dicking around on wikipedia the other night, filling my insatiable desire to learn more about the intricacies of the human mind, looking about on the pages of "schizophrenia," "hallucinations," and "thought disorder," when I came across an interesting topic. Apparently, schizophrenics, when deteriorating to an inability to communicate, sometimes exhibit something called "word salad." It's just a spewing of words that come out in incoherent strands. These word salads may keep the structure of normal sentences, but the content is scrambled beyond comprehension. That term was among many more, so here's my take on whole thought disorder deal:
I be walkin' down the street mindin' my own my own, and the deposition I encountered was foremost contriving. Two men were there, and they said, "wait! Wait for me - us - and ME!" Together they said this and together they fell upon their own heads upon the sidewalk, sadly, watching me watching them die together as they had spoken. Oh, torrential woe I felt then and there with these two ruffians sad, sad, sad little creatures. I couldn't speak or spoke and spoken broke, well, be I, smokin' toke.
So I was high, flying as kites do, and wittling my way across the balcony of this city's sidewalk, and what should I see perched upon a lightpost in yonder balcony? Two birds, each made of silver stone, squawking mindlessly in parrots' tone. "You two, two mammal mindless honeysuckles! Come down to me and be with I!" But not would they hear, for their animation was kaput. Life, gone, fried, and wiped away I saw in them nothing to be seen. Sadly, and saddened was I, so walking I continued to do. It was only when the men from below the ground came to speak to me that I was able to connect the isolation of my soul's departure and become someone to speak to their faces. "Life, be it a fair lesson, merriment to bottom dwellers' solitude for you all are my children, God and Son together." Were they thought I spoke of the Holy Ghost, they be not with me.