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I think anyone who knew me as a loved one, dear fiend or family member seriously wondered how it was that was aloud to be let free to run among the so called normal folk. I know for me there were times when the idea of safely being locked away was quite a nice thought. Of course the thought of ultimate freedom was the only way to fly. If I didn't pay attention this time I would be able to convince myself that his was incarceration and not rehabilitation. To many falls and too many breaks happening way too many times. Nobody is that clumsy. The night terrors and the insomnia was back in full gear. I think the ghosts were just getting damn physical.
Stepping across the lies of the various worlds was happening every night now and my memory of where I was continued to become more clear. I was finding out about a vast universe, an infinite consciousness that was really very very close.
The merging and mingling of one world with another was more understandable on other planes of spiritual existence. For some reason this world was a world of secrets and even lies.
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The lies were literally man made and prevalent to white lies. The white man of the planet took it upon themselves to conquer and control all aspects of his life which included women and race.
There are things about my race that I am ashamed of and as a man I find devastatingly criminal how we treat women and children. The white man is a passionately violent man. Men in general are a violent group to women and all other living creatures.
It's fascinating how so many times when this conversation is brought up that someone will say, but not all men are that way, there are good men, there are good white men and you know what this is true and they are honored, adored and loved for being who they are. It is vitally important that we stay vigilant in pointing out the flaws of the male, especially the white man.
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The final giving up is when you can sleep for a full day and night. This is how you pass time. Just sleeping.
I had my five o'clock physical therapy coming up. The only two things I did today was morning therapy and the five o'clock. I slept and dreamed the rest of the day away. It was a perfect day.
By five o'clock those still being scheduled for their physical therapy sessions are the truly weird ones of the place. The therapists themselves are also getting Google-eyed from the days events.
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As I wheel in there is only one other person in rehab. He was a skinny black gentleman that was doing the cardio bike. Jacob showed me where to part and brought up the cardio bike that the other participant just finished on.
About four minutes into my peddling Annie came in and begged Jacob to let her take the cardio bike to her last client of the day. Jacob finally gave in and started me on the small weights apologizing all over the place. I didn't mind. Anything was passing time more actively than I had all day.
This god damn cast was an absolute nightmare to lug around. Above my knee to the ground it was huge.
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I made a decision while peddling with my arms that the writing from this point on would be the manufacture of a bi-polar mind. I would write whatever my mental health state of mine felt like writing about. I have pretty much been dong that all along but stating it as a fact makes it more understandable.
As I sat there taking small talk music with Jacob in walked another Michael. A Jewish man who was loudly describing is reasons for his mode of dress. He had a tan t-sir on, two pair of underwear, one right side out the other on backwards. The pair on the outside were camouflage. His distorted gangly legs dropped from the holes of the shorts to the ground where one foot was a slipper and the other was a temporary cast. Greasy black hair with a pair of the original black frame glasses. As soon as he spoke you knew he was intelligent and completely crazy eccentric. A scratchy high pitched voice that spoke of what he thought was important and wasn't listening to anything anyone else said.
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As Wendell carried on about walkers and how they were so poorly constructed that when using them in the shower they would fill with water and you would spend the next two hours having them drain out all over the place as you puttered around Jacob and Blake, the other aid, were talking about Wendell’s attire the thin black man sat listening attentively with no desire to join in.
Gracie came wheeling in and all focus was briefly turned to her.
Gracie was a lifer at the place. She would never leave here. Gracie as a young woman was probably a wild Irish Rose that lived a carefree life and no she was just barely there going in and out of conscious thought. Jacob and Blake turned their attention to Gracie for a while as Wendell began his regiment of exercise, the thin black man listened attentively and I just sat realizing that I was seeing the infinite intricacy of life unfold before me. I was both trapped and given privilege to a part of life that only few are ever allowed to see for any period of time.
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I am again given a course of action, a very real path to follow and only time will tell what direction I choose to go in.
Everybody is breathing a sigh of relief because dear crazy old Mical has given up the battle and surrendered to the authorities and let himself be captured. Good old crazy Mical of of course is only really dangerous to himself but well, we just can't have that.
I love and cherish those who worry and care about me. I will continue to document the life and times of the fringe.
I feel myself becoming so depressed, so sad and feeling so lonely. The visit from Nathan, his youngest son Chuckles and brother Thad was very nice but any visit now just brings back into view just how unbelievably fucked up my family is. I really wonder how many families go through this kind of pain and torture. We just never seem to get it.
Nathan and Thad were able to get the rest of my stuff from the apartment which is such a relief. Problem is that the guitar and camera went back with them so my ch-oices of distractions are limited dramatically. Actually all I have done so far getting back to Heartland is sleep. The truth is if I was able to sleep away the next six to eight weeks while getting put into place my move back to Lima I would gladly do it.
The days just float by. There is no direction to anything. It's all just movement through some fabricated dream of a dream inside of a different universe that is being pulled into an endless black hole that will start it all over again.
cool peace
hippy mike
love
spirit
cool uer groovy cool