Thorazine Dreams
I know it’s been a while since I gave my last shout out, but I have been busy! Last week, I checked myself back into my voluntary half way house for a little mental R&R. Needed to recharge my batteries, know what I’m saying? This place is a wonderful facility. Dirty rooms, people wandering the halls muttering, and me, sitting in a corner of my cot huddled like a baby and singing “Mama’s little baby loves shortnin’, shortnin’, mama’s little baby loves shortnin’ bread”. Let me break down an average day for you.
MORNING: Wake up around 8 AM, trudge to the “dining hall”, pause to see if that pain in my leg is a blood clot shooting straight for my heart. Not yet, so it’s eggy time! Steal extra toast from Typhoid Mary, the crazy lady who picks scabs all over herself. Check toast 5 times for lost scabs. Clean and eat toast.
MID-MORNING: Walk through beautiful garden. Feel dizzy from the smells, almost faint, run to Medicine, and ask for Ativan. Get Ativan. Listen to headphones playing Blue Oyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper” on repeat until lunch.
AFTERNOON: Play with myself in my bathroom before lunch. Can’t ejaculate from meds. Wonder if the loss of feeling goes beyond just my junk. Decide to test all my reflexes. Hear someone calling for me to stop or I’ll go blind. Check outside but no one’s there. Go to Medicine for my Thorazine and Wellbutrin.
MIDAFTERNOON: Start to feel tired. Look around to see if the thing in the corner of my eye is real. It is. It’s just a unicorn. Unicorn tells me “to just fucking die already!” Try to avoid Unicorn and panic by playing solitaire for four hours.
DINNER: Eat some food, then vomit it up because the mashed potatoes taste like strychnine. Leave hall and go to my room. Read Watership Down but can’t focus for fear of the pain in my left arm. Wait for stroke. No stroke. Punch the wall and cry myself to sleep. Wake up at two AM and laugh for 40 minutes at how pathetic I was, then fall back asleep.
Day one of seven. I don’t want to sound like it is all bad! There were some hilarious moments and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the Dream Team. Crazy is funny. Later I’ll recount the schizos versus the Bipolars kickball tourney. Things get out of hand when Big Bruce and I go on a panty raid!
MORNING: Wake up around 8 AM, trudge to the “dining hall”, pause to see if that pain in my leg is a blood clot shooting straight for my heart. Not yet, so it’s eggy time! Steal extra toast from Typhoid Mary, the crazy lady who picks scabs all over herself. Check toast 5 times for lost scabs. Clean and eat toast.
MID-MORNING: Walk through beautiful garden. Feel dizzy from the smells, almost faint, run to Medicine, and ask for Ativan. Get Ativan. Listen to headphones playing Blue Oyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper” on repeat until lunch.
AFTERNOON: Play with myself in my bathroom before lunch. Can’t ejaculate from meds. Wonder if the loss of feeling goes beyond just my junk. Decide to test all my reflexes. Hear someone calling for me to stop or I’ll go blind. Check outside but no one’s there. Go to Medicine for my Thorazine and Wellbutrin.
MIDAFTERNOON: Start to feel tired. Look around to see if the thing in the corner of my eye is real. It is. It’s just a unicorn. Unicorn tells me “to just fucking die already!” Try to avoid Unicorn and panic by playing solitaire for four hours.
DINNER: Eat some food, then vomit it up because the mashed potatoes taste like strychnine. Leave hall and go to my room. Read Watership Down but can’t focus for fear of the pain in my left arm. Wait for stroke. No stroke. Punch the wall and cry myself to sleep. Wake up at two AM and laugh for 40 minutes at how pathetic I was, then fall back asleep.
Day one of seven. I don’t want to sound like it is all bad! There were some hilarious moments and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the Dream Team. Crazy is funny. Later I’ll recount the schizos versus the Bipolars kickball tourney. Things get out of hand when Big Bruce and I go on a panty raid!
posted by the captain at 5:42 PM
12 Comments:
Tell nurse Ratched BabyJewels said hi.
Yeah, and tell the Indian dude to stop being so quiet.
Peas are nice.
Is this the same place that Pat O'Brien and Whitney Houston were in?
I want to hear about the kickball tournament so bad...
Blake
Oh God! You've just described my day. Are you in my head?
That sounds like an average date with my ex girlfriend.
Sometimes everyon needs a little R & R. Good times.
wow, you are having the best time.
I dig me some shortnin' bread.
Is it expensive? I am looking for a relaxing vacation spot.
It is really important that I pass along that today is National Talk Like a Pirate day. Your blog came up in my comments and I simply must let you know before the day slips away.
Since your blog has a little of that theme in the title in all.
Will check it out in further detail later. In the mean time, please know that this is a NATIONAL HOLIDAY- at least IT SHOULD BE DAMN IT! And I certainly hope you celebrate with your family. :)
Happy National Talk Like a Pirate Day to you and yours....
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