Madder Than the Maddest of Hatters
It was clear all at once, but nonetheless still like a dream that I was in constant danger. Let me take you back to where it all began to prove itself to be very deadly real.
The place, Venice, California, is a heated secret that holds the coastal treasure of Los Angeles intelligence.
Here, tourists, stars, locals and the underground converge on all levels sourced internationally and very openly politically progressive like as if the gamble bets you and you should dare to be free.
Information on everything from world affairs, infectious diseases, cannabis molecular synthesis, political and economic change, investment, pharmaceutical advances and the Amsterdam manufactured designer drugs brought with them and more is all on the forefront and more available and current than anywhere. However for me, there is a catch.
I am a genius I.Q., independently educated, performance talented and business trained schizophrenic.
This means by medical fact I have super sensory hearing, sight, and other heightened senses but my brain can get jammed up like working all night by the light of an old fridge processing all of this information. When I was in High School I once read a play script I was in at dress rehearsal for the first time, and memorized all 300 of my lines without ever touching it again. I performed it that night, and then live at opening night the next time.
I learned music, and am a seasoned professional onstage meaning, once by again medical fact, that my brain is over a third more capable of recognizing sounds than the untrained ear. While in Venice I performed five songs using a Coke bottle as a flute with a five piece band on Ocean Front Walk by constantly readjusting the water level inside. The amount of fluid inside changed the pitch, and I practiced only once, all morning prior, by doing scales in the circle of fifths while going about walking 8 miles of errands. Errands being checking in at the local homeless center, getting my prescriptions, trading for a tobacco, and so forth.
All of this mixture of magic made for real thrilling psychological freedom to sew and see individual growth tenfold, but was taking tremendous effort. I lost 90 pounds in 90 days by diet and effort alone. But I wasn't staying entirely reality grounded. I was doing my best, mind you, but when it comes to mind over matter, matters aren't a simple fix. I was training myself to emerge as a fixture in the scene, I told myself, but futile efforts to integrate my work were getting harder, the current events precluded more emotionally challenging than my unaided neurons could sort.
I was basically on the edge of pathological psychosis meltdown constantly, one cue short of going postal. But I am a delicate and loving, passionately giving type, I believe only in self defense truly. Now however my perception of what I needed to fight, gone haywire.
I would walk 25 or more miles a day, almost never sleep. I think over four months, an average for sleep per day calculated mathematically was about 2 hours a night, with 3-4 nights none at all. Mind you this was no drug I was consuming. This was the endorphins flooding my body via ill temperament. I felt love, undying love for my fellows, but tormenting and searingly painful agony at romantic jealousy and financial ruin.
Over the course of this journey, I told no one absolutely what was happening and nearly laid whole the scars and doubts of my torn psyche while approaching everything I did with a level of almost Zen fluidity. Things I never believed became commonplace, acts I never achieved became mis en plais, and rights I never conceived became appropriated and the things I could physically do heightened like never before.
What came of it?
Many attempts on my life, leading to the subsequent return to my home, now vigilantly aware of the world we inhabit. The stories that came to be here are the mixture of mind, machine, murder, and madness that picked apart the pixels I lived swimming in frame of. These are my more subtle words, what comes of the tales brought out here I pray my teachings. The lessons of a man gone madder than the maddest of hatter's.
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