I’ve been in such a hyped up manic state this past week that I feel like people can see the black storm clouds of crazy forming over my head when something sets me off. I feel simultaneously invincible and vulnerable. I feel simultaneously exuberant and depressed. I love everybody, and I fuckin’ hate everybody.
I don’t take no pills that kill my will. Only plant-induced docility can curb my hostility. Some say that you’re a psycho if you only think in rhyme. Someday I might go crazy cuz I do it all the time.
I had a guy yesterday talk to me through a bathroom stall. I had bought a pair of earbuds and I went to use the bathroom and opened them up while I was in there. Motherfucker proceeds to talk a steady stream of shit at me about how I’m stealing. He just assumes this, mind you. Brave enough to open his mouth about it but does he know who he’s fucking with? I fuckin’ doubt it.
I was born to a child in a foster home who, by all accounts, was batshit crazy while pregnant with me. Fifteen year-old girl, got pregnant while in the home, used to beat up and sexually abuse the other kids. That’s what one of them said when I found them and subsequently my birth mother through some online defective work years ago. Said she also played “crocodile rock” nonstop while I was in the womb, and was violent. That song always rubbed me the wrong way growing up, and now I knew why. Today, I figured out I kinda dig it. A lot.
Her sister was a former prostitute named Cookie who lived in a trailer in the woods with her daughter and way too many cats. They called themselves witches and gave themselves Egyptian names. I talked to the daughter, next, and she was fuckin’ nuts. Talked to my “grandma” after that, nutty as hell. Denied ever even tasting alcohol, even though I’d always heard she’d abandoned her kids because she was a drunk. Calls herself the “family matriarch.” Chastised me for telling Cookie’s daughter about “uncle jimmy” being in prison for raping kids with their mother’s permission(she ran the camera). So that’s my uncle, was a national news story and an important clue that led me to the ultimate goal: talking to my mother.
Talked to my mother. I see myself in her. She’s not crazy on the surface, but I know it’s in there. It’s in me. Mama weer all crazEe now…
Do I believe the sexual abuse allegations from her foster sisters? I don’t know. I know that’s not in me. I’ve fucked plenty of women in my time but there’s never been any question, any lack of consent. The idea of violating anyone is abhorrent to me. Thank God for that.
Still, I don’t know her. Who knows? One of the sisters wouldn’t even speak to me and just knowing I’d called triggered her PTSD.
I got that crazy in me, though. Always had songs I listened to over and over and over again, my friend. And they don’t believe that I’m on the eve of destruction. Their mistake.
I let that fucker go without a word. I ignored that shit when maybe a year ago I would’ve busted outta that bathroom stall and lit him up.
I’m not trying to pretend I’m some Mr. tough guy macho man Randy Savage motherfucker. I’m not. I don’t like that shit. That shit pisses me off. I don’t have any patience for some “alpha” dude coming at me with that bullshit. I get along better with women. I think I think like a woman and that’s why they like me so much. They get understanding and dick. However, I can be a raging asshole at times, when I feel attacked by the world. Every man has a streak of misogyny in him. It’s not who I am, but it’s in there.
But you won’t hear me mansplain like a fat douche crybabymanchild. I’ll call a bitch a cunt but never condescend, a woman can be deadly or your closest fuckin’ friend. Ya know? Women are definitely not the “weaker sex.” Believe that to your own detriment. Sure, I’ve wanted to slap the shit out of one on occasion, but I’d never cross that line. I’m not that crazy.
I don’t enjoy going off the rails on a crazy train, but that’s what’s happening, so I’ve decided to make the best of it.
People say I should get “help.” No need, I’m smarter than all the world’s mental health professionals and they can’t tell me shit about myself I don’t already know. That’s called grandiosity. See? I’ve got it all figured out. Sayonara for now, got some more writing to do on the sequel to Effugium.