Certified maniac

I mentioned to a friend the other day that I plan to come off my mad pills in a couple of months. I was a bit peeved by how worried he looked. Rose has been quite resistant to this plan too. The standard thing to do once you've been certified a maniac is to stick you on pills for the rest of your life.

I'm not into that.

The worst thing about this diagnosis is its retrospective nature. I think of myself as a normal human being. But no! They charmingly tell me I've been diseased, disordered my entire life. No, David, you are not an acceptable human being. You need to be treated to make you so. Dull, grey, sluggish.

Bullshit.

I'm going to the shrinks this arvo to work out a plan for going off the pills. It's quite scary how much power they have, the enforcers of the reality consensus. The default options are to get drugged or to get locked up: Eradicate all disallowed thought patterns! Enforce circumscribed normalcy!

Once I go off the pills, they'll be hovering around waiting for the first excuse to put me back on them. So we're working out a plan.

One of the first questions is 'what gives meaning to your life?' Ha ha ha ha ha.

Fuck the medical profession is dodgy. Not that long ago they used to cut people's brains in half to make them 'normal'. And then experiment on them to find out how the brain works. How insanely inhuman is that?

Fucking norms. Any group of people is an incipient lynch mob, ready to deindividuate at the drop of a hat and act in unison against the perceived 'other'. If that's ordered, give me disordered any day.

Quiet

Yeah, so you might have noticed I've been a bit quiet on the blog for a while. I've even had an email pleading for an update. Bizarre.

The truth is that, after the last few months, I simply can't face stringing words after another. (I've just had a wee rest after typing that previous sentence.) And there's not a lot to say. I haven't been going out much. I've just been enjoying the resumption of (somewhat) normal life.

I've started back at the day job. I've been doing some painting. Nice leisurely painting. I've been hanging out with the dog. Both Rose and I have been sick. Same old, same old. Nothing to see here.

I suppose the main thing of note is that I, quite amazingly, got my phone back from Auckland. It took a while. The morons who took it even left photos of themselves on it.

Look, a moron:

I suppose I should be grateful they returned it. Though I'd much rather they hadn't took it in the first place. Nor required so much encouragement to return it.

And I won't mention what else the disgusting little creeps left on it either.