snapshots of psychosis
kevin smith clark often refers to me as a “crazy magnet.” occasionally i have 24 to 72 hour runs where i bump into so many psychotic people and have so many odd encounters that i begin to think he’s right.
currently, i’m on a crazy run like you wouldn’t believe. within the last twelve hours i have:
overheard a cell phone conversation in which a jimmy buffet-esque drunk uncle derided his nephew’s decision to join the marines by openly wondering “what are you going to do in iraq? kill some (insert the plural form of an extremely offensive racial slur here) and buy some camels?” he then asked his nephew if he was drunk. when his nephew apparently responded that he was not, the uncle declared that he was “a total pussy.” apparently, our buffet lovin’ friend was “drunk every night when i was twenty five.” he continued by asserting that “hell, now i’m thirty eight, have two kids and you’re still more likely to find me drunk on a weeknight than sober.” based on my experience, this confession was something short of shocking. the uncle concluded the conversation by asking his nephew to meet him at the bar of the historic hawthorne hotel in salem for drinks. when his nephew declined, the uncle reminded him that “you are such a pussy” and affirmed that “if i was at your house right now, i would ejaculate in your face.” i could also tell you how this paragon of virtue played a tinny, taped recording of the red hot chili pepper’s breaking a girl every time a reasonably attractive women walked by, but i fear that would be piling on.
early this morning, around 3.25 a.m. i received a drunk dial from a friend or family member who should be thankful i am concealing their identity. actually after the phone shook me out of sleep and i was startled by the name on my phone display, i was even more confused to find that the person on the other line was not my anonymous family member or friend but an acquaintance of that person who haltingly suggested that i talk to this person because “she/he is convinced that she/he is getting married tomorrow and is completely pissed that you are not going to make the wedding.” after i stumbled out of bed and let the dog out to do her early morning duty, the anonymous friend or family member wrenched the phone from their friend berated me by saying “i can’t believe that you’re not going to make my wedding” and confirmed that she/he was “wearing green shoes but one of them was missing.” at the mention of green shoes i tersely recommended that the person get some sleep and snapped the phone shut. now i cannot decide whether i should tare into this stupid son or daughter of a bitch for drunk dialing me at 3.25 in the morning or whether i should make an exploratory call to the betty ford clinic.
as soon as i got into the office, one of my co-workers – who likes show tunes, multiple piercings and calling in for free concert tickets on Mike 98 FM – admitted that he/she “often feels like a homicidal maniac.” moreover, he/she told us that if we “hear of someone going on a homicidal rampage through ryalside (a local, blue collar neighborhood), you’ll know who’s to blame.” after my wide-eyed co-worker and i received he/she’s confession, i appreciated the wisdom of krista’s pre-designated inner-office hiding places for the first time.
Sixteen Years of Wedded… Something?
1 week ago