(more from the backlog...scattered bits,from around June,'13)
“And
all should cry Beware! Beware!
His
flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave
a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For
he on Honeydew hath fed,
and
drunk the milk of paradise.”(1)
Melancholia.
Bitter.
Arid.
Acerbic.
Curmudgeon.
….and
then, I went to the Ball Game.
I love my Sons, but my god!
What
I go through!
In such a state, going and sitting in the truck, and
watching all the peripheral shenanigans...Sports is, at root, why I
am the above enumerated things.
It was Rednecks and Jocks that set
me on the path to my current Anger and Frustration.(in Magnolia,
Texas, they are one and the same...Rednecks and Jocks)
In
the Woods, I was as sure-footed as a deer...but on a Ball
Field?
Clumsy.
Retarded Clumsy.
Was the ensuing Ridicule
really necessary?
I think of these things...I really can't
help it...from my perch on the hill, behind Center Field.
I hope I
make them Nervous!
The Prancing Gorillas, and their Screeching
wives.
I read.
I pay attention enough to know when My Kid is
doing something.
The rest?
I honestly do not care.
Win?
“Great!”(pats
back)
Lose?
“Their
Pitcher was 15...”(pats back)
My
Eldest understands that I Love him, but do not give one damn for the
whole lot of it.
My Youngest is not as Thoughtful.
(“Taciturn”
is a good word)
It
doesn't help that I'm in a Melancholic Anhedonia, at the moment.
The
normal Frustrations of Life in America, compounded by Great
Intelligence and Eidetic Memory.
I'll say it
again....
“Anomaly”.
I'm
too fucking smart for my civilisation, and too Honest...and
too...
Well.
I have never Fit...anywhere.
I feel this most
acutely at the various Sports Events I must attend...and, to a lesser
extent, the other Events...be it Band, or the Elementary Talent
Show.(jury selection? Fighting with the tax man?lol)
Is
it Opened Eyes?
Is it the result of determining the Truth,
regarding Humankind?(at least the more likely Truth,lol)
Or is it
10+ years in the Wilderness...both literally and figuratively...after
911 and the closing of my cafe, and all the crazy that was unleashed
that day?
Maybe
it's the 30 years of Odd Duck-ness in Texas?
I
call myself “Liberal”...in the Jeffersonian Sense...and yet I
struggle with Misanthropy.
I Believe in the brotherhood of
Man...and in His potential God-Hood....
And yet, I see the People
running backwards, gleefully donning chains, and flinging poo at each
other.
“A
grief without a pang, void, dark and drear.
A stifled, drowsy,
unimpassioned grief,
Which
finds no natural outlet, no relief,
In
word, or sigh, or tear-”(2)
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
“The world is too
much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending,
we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in
Nature that is ours;
We have given our
hearts away, a sordid boon!
This
]
Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be
howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered
now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for every
thing, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.—Great
God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing
on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that
would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus
rising
]
from the sea;
Or hear old Triton
blow his wreathèd horn.”(3)
How
did I “get” Agoraphobia(nos)?
Was it that water fountain on
the Bolivar Ferry, all those years ago?
Was it the aforementioned
Rednecks, Jocks and Cops?
Was it the Glazed Eyes...the Cotton
Minds...of my Contemporaries?
Psychology
The
Current Milieu.
Since
911, and the accompanying Hysteria and Fear of the Other, I have
found myself more and more Hermitlike.
In this same period, I saw
the birth of my sons, the failure of my Cafe, the loss of gainful
employment(cost benefit analysis), and the increasing Disability,
arising from the Wreck, (in 1990), and what can charitably be
described as ,”Hard Living”.
The first 5-6 years of this
period also saw increasing Panic Attacks, and attempts at
self-medication for the Psychological issues, as well as the
increasing Pain, related to the Disability.
Almost 5 years ago,
the lifelong hostility from my stepdad finally became too much, and
we moved to town. Concurrently, I was prescribed Vicodin for my pain,
Amytriptaline for nerve damage, and found a steady source of
Weed.
These combined with my wife and mother finally coming to
understand just what was going on with me, Psychologically, and
Physically.
I learned, due to my long habit of Introspection, what
my “Triggers” were...and learned to avoid them.
When I must go
among the Mundane, I take Valerian Root, in addition to the above
listed meds....and gear myself up for the Ordeal.
If I fail to
take these precautions, I find that I end up Drunk.
/////////////////////////
The
Roots.
I
was the Freakish Genius, from a very early age. 180 IQ, a Shining
Mind, and a Voracious Curiosity.
While there was outward praise,
there was always a sort of covert condescension...which I now regard
as a coping mechanism, by those who used it.
As time went on, I
found that I didn't “Fit” into any of the pre-determined Social
Groupings. I was obviously not a Jock, or a Redneck...nor was I a
typical Geek.
Band was full of what I will
term,”Goody-2-shoes”,lol....most of whom were also Geeks.
From
3rd to 9th grades, I had a Best Friend,MRL...we
shared all of this symptomology, save that he was a better student
than I , and he had more ability to Conform, and to be a part of
Groups, at least peripherally.
The
first time I noticed the Problem of Assumptions was in 7th
grade, when my folks got divorced....teachers and counselors, and my
folks, all expected a set of reactions and emotions and behaviour
problems from me...which weren't there.
I understood the
Divorce...what led to it, etc...and I could see the necessity and
benefit of such an action.
This understanding went against all the
expectations...which was, apparently, unacceptable.
I found that I
had to repeatedly Explain Myself to various authorities whom, to a
man, seemed incapable of understanding my Not Fitting into their
Preconceptions....
These were my first experiences with outright
denial of what turned out to be my Anomolousness.(there's the
“diagnosis, right there,lol)
When,
in 9th grade, my best buddy moved, due to his own folks'
divorce...I found myself alone in the crowd. I had become fascinated
with Da Vinci...and began writing in Mirror Writing...it was just
something to do, to relieve the Boredom.
This was seen with much
Concern, as a symptom of some underlying Emotional or Psychological
Disturbance(from Divorce, etc). I was shocked to find that the school
counselor was so Dense! Was there nothing in her books about
Freakishly Smart Kids?(that's 2013 me talking, there,lol)
I was
not believed when I explained that, no, I wasn't upset about the
divorce...or anything else, really, except that my BFF had gone, and
I was alone with a bunch of Fools and Jocks and Rednecks and a few
other Smart Kids who, sadly, had little in common with me (they were
all Xians, and incurious about most of the things that interested
me...at the time , this incuriousness was not hostile, and had not
ramped up to the anti-science insanity we see, today).
By
the time I reconnected with MRL...who had moved 20 miles down the
road...it was too late. We had diverged.
I'm
coming around to the conclusion that this Loss was pretty
Foundational to my development, and my subsequent wrestling with the
System.//////////////////
“Sister...do
ya even want to...Try and Find me?”-Black Crowes,Sometimes
Salvation
What
choice did I have?
I never wanted, nor expected, to end up so
broken and all alone.
Mike
the Martian.
Even the Weirdos thought me weird.
Freak.
But
I couldn't help it...
It wasn't my fault that I was too smart...or
that I found Authority Figures so wanting...or that I recognized , so
early on, that most of the Social Structures were just that, and were
mostly Bunk.
The Fools and Idiots had already Won, and were in
league against me.
What could I do, but Embrace my Weirdness?
When
Austin was not the Hippie Paradise I had expected, I despaired.
I
gave up, back then, of ever finding a Place to Belong...
So it was
with this in mind that I removed to the Wilderness.
Bad idea, it
turned out...between Mom/Don, the Townies, and lil George and 911,
the Wilderness morphed into Tea...and I am stuck.
I should have
followed my instinct...once I had run off the first wife...
Hit
the Road and headed West.
I had the Means and the Body, as
yet...and the Will to Make a Go of it.
All that Will and Effort
was wasted, here...broken against the rocks of being either well
ahead of my Time, or Out of Touch..or just taking the advice of
others....the jury is still out.
So here I sit...body Broken...in
my Library...the one that's never used.
I have no Friends...and
even my wife and kids think I'm a weirdo.
I
spend my days with agoraphobia and Pain...and rarely leave the
Monastery and Environs.
I
will likely die, here...misunderstood, if not hated.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
I
finally got a new hip in Feb of this year.
Wonderful.
Hip feels
great.
The problem is, that the hip is connected to the rest of
me.
Doctors, friends , relations and acquaintances...even
strangers...all of them, to a person, seem to believe that my
problems are Over...I am a New Man, and can now get off Medicaid,
stop taking pain meds, and go get a job.
This is especially
frustrating with the Doctors...who should know better.
Fear of
Audit...and a heaping(and surprising) dose of Mythology, regarding
Opiate painkillers,...and I'm cut off....
Given Naproxin
(aleve)...and some other pill to prevent the first from fucking up my
belly,(but which has it's own set of digestive side effects)
I
have reserved the Percocet they gave me after the hip
surgery...didn't need it, then...I had sufficient Norco, at the
time.
Since I quit all the Pharmaceuticals, about a month and
three weeks ago, I've taken perhaps 8 Percocets: all for
extraordinary situations...going to Houston for a week, and doing the
museums, etc...and my 36 hour whirlwind to Padre(took one for the
trip back).
This
is hardly behaviour indicative of addiction....
But
I'm still screwed.
There are no Rheumatologists, in the State of
Texas, who are currently accepting adult Medicaid patients.
I must
wait for someone to be miraculously cured...which, given the nature
of the diseases that Rheumatologists deal with, means that I must
wait for someone to die.
I'm on a waiting list(and this is
Texas...this waiting list has zero to do with Obamacare).
My
regular Doc wants me to see a Rheumatologist to find out why I feel
so terrible...why all my joints hurt so much. Then, he'll send me to
a “Pain Management Specialist”(if I can find one who takes
Medicaid,lol), who will...presumably...take the prescription of
opiate painkillers out of my regular Doc's worried hands.
Xray of
back and knee don't show any likely culprit...neck, shoulders other
knee, wrists and elbows, have not been scrutinised,
radiologically.
Neither has my gravel-like ankle.
I suggested
an MRI for my knee/back...and was brushed off. I assume this is due
to the inefficiency/incompetence(willful and on purpose) of Medicaid.
My
offending eyelashes...which grow into my left eye...and have for 23
years...are due to be electrocuted next week.
I am both extremely
leery of the procedure...and cannot wait to have it done.
3 ½
weeks of “letting them grow” has been nightmarish...even with the
“bandage contact lens” I've been wearing.
That eye remains
open when I sleep...and . Thus, dries out.
Both eyes suffer from
“cotton eye”...which I suspect is related to the left eye's
issues.
Dry eyes, with a contact is a bitch. So I lubricate...and
wear a patch.
I am ready for the electrodes.
(this was done...but they missed 2 eyelashes...as was expected by all concerned)
/////////////
On
top of all of this is Psychology.
I'm a mess.
...mostly because
of my life-experiences...cops and hillbillies...the frequently
lamented Anomalous-ness.
I
find that I am enraged...oh, so quietly.
I
am enraged at the Injustice I see all around me, at the injustice of
my Medical experience....at the continual assumptions made by
everyone from the garbage man to Rickfuckingperry, that it's all,
somehow, a brilliant plan to mooch off the gooberment...
at the
Bullying I was subject to, as a kid and young adult...
I
am enraged at the carload of Rednecks(the hats gave them away) who
ran me off the road, 12-17-90...and were never looked for...you know,
because Joe is obviously making it up, and deserves his
fate(Cops...really).
I
am enraged that it has become unheard of and silly to refuse to kiss
the bosses' ass...That demanding a better wage, and humane working
conditions, is for some reason, a bad thing.
I am enraged that
Stupidity is ascendant.
...and that the Enlightenment Project
has been abandoned by so many of my countrymen.
I
am enraged that the successful businessmen are usually the most
corrupt...and that the entire regulatory apparatus excludes the
small, the poor and the Honest.
That one is expected to set aside
Integrity, in order to “get ahead”...and that one finds oneself
falling behind, anyway...and without Integrity.
I
am Enraged by these things...and many others...and yet I offend by
falling into the beer pool, on occasion.
By behaving stupidly, and
forgetting my Mundane Filter..(.that habit of being so clear that the
most ignorant moron can understand me.My Mundane Filter is usually
Silence...I just don't say anything, at all.)
I
offend.
What
is unknown...or forgotten?...is that I am
Offended...continually...
By all those things, and more.
…
I
have, as perhaps my greatest curse, Terminal Curiosity about the
universe.
As a result, I find myself more knowledgeable, in more
pertinent subjects, than anyone I know.
All
this seems to accomplish is my further alienation from the rest of
the species...at least the Texas portion of it.
I
manage to limit my news intake for a week...and when I can't stand
it, any more, I take a peek....
and find that Texas is in an
uproar, that Gay People can marry(somewhere), and that our Right to
Vote is on the block, again...like it's 1956.
Oh...and
the NSA is watching and recording every phone call and email and
facebook post...which I have known for many years, but the majority
is only now having to become aware of.
I
think about the 6 years of low boil terror, from mom's prowling
neighbor (who is now in an asylum for early-onset Altzheimer's
!!)...and I think about the ridicule my mom and I endured from
friends and family and cops.
Add
PTSD to the diagnosis.
//////////////
I
am afraid to attempt to utilise Medicaid for a shrink.
I'm afraid
for several reasons...
For one, I have some experience with
shrinks...both in clinical and in educational settings(I really like
Jung,lol)...they are not semi-divine...and the specimens I have
examined are , simply, not qualified for someone like me.
For
another, I am in the middle of Texas...there are few shrinks this
side of Austin or San Antone(100+miles away)...and Medicaid frowns on
shopping around in these terribly slim pickins.
Out
of the 5 or so shrinks I have interacted with, however briefly, over
the last 18 years, only one has not had crosses and bible verses all
over the room.
All but one have worn their Christian Zeal on their
sleeves.
I
don't want to do that.
I
don't want to have to defend my agnosticism, or paganism or
whatever.
Even the nice, educated and tolerant specimens have
always ended up at “if you would only offer yourself to Jesus...”
Another reason for this reluctance, is that all or most of the symptomology looks like perfectly rational responses to intractable problems...Rebellion against increasing Cripplehood, the whole Anomaly-Thing,the world being basically Screwed, and the Ascendance of the Insane and Ignorant.
Is there a Pill, for this?
///////////////////////////////////
sigh.
Turns
out that there ARE NO Shrinks who take Medicaid...at least within 100
miles of me.
////////////////////////////////////
I
have thought about getting out of Texas...
perhaps the issue is
Place.
Perhaps New Mexico, or Colorado...if not California or
Oregon...are better suited to someone like me, in my
situation....
But I have no money.++**
I have no
Strength.
...and I have zero experience with anywhere but Texas
and the rest of the Deep South.
I have contemplated an attempt at
reconnaissance....
Stick
a camper on the truck, and take off for points west, just to see
what's up...
That's really what the Padre trip, and the campout
for the boys, were all about....test runs.
Experiments to find out
my endurance for such endeavors...driving and living rough.
Should
I wait till I'm as fixed as possible?
If so, how does one
determine that point?
I could lose Medicaid, etc at any
moment...due to the dysfunctional system, due to some
misunderstanding by the underpaid and undertrained staff at such
agencies...or due to simple , arbitrary fiat by Machine...ie: for no
reason, at all.
Folks who have no experience with these things
should shut the hell up, every once and a while...and listen.
/////////////////////////////
Killing
Hope.
Some folks, whom I listen to, say it's a Good Thing...to
kill Hope.
Frees one up for Action...or something...
I am not
convinced.
I
see the state of the world...and I despair.
I see the state of my
life...relatively stable;at least on a material level, at the
moment...and I despair.
I
haven't written a word in weeks.
I find that I have both too much
and too little to say...
I also feel like I've said it all
before...
Is
this because I have become a Cliche?
Or because so much is still
unresolved?
It
is an Impasse.
I
am all but Powerless to resolve the health issues...things must “take
their course”...all I have , as far as Agency, is to keep reminding
the various Doctors that I ain't done.
The
rest?
Well..I
suspect that Health is what's in the way, there.
If I can get the
ankle fixed, and get with some rational pain management
people(lol),for the rest of me, I might be able to find some work I
can do....which, it is hoped, would help with a whole host of other
things.
I have the makings of a shop...I could make wind-chimes,
or something.
I'll
never cook for a living, again.(more psychologically damaging
realisations.)
I
really have no idea what I can, or want to do for a living.
There
are so many unknowns.
//////////////////////
Lack
of Agency is likely a large part of my current anhedonic
melancholia...
I
have always been the guy with the duck tape and wire...perhaps a bit
of rope...
I always could find a work-around...
But no longer.
That
way of living seems so exhausting...and painful...now.
Much
like living rough...I don't think I'm up to it, any more.
Not
physically able.
///////////////////////////
“Kubla
Khan”, Samuel Taylor Coleridge
“Dejection;an
ode”, Ibid.
-
++**I'm
probably the only person any of you readers know who has never had a
credit card.
Try that for a week.
Lol.
