Fin du Monde

ok psychosis is back, but i don't care about this blog anymore to make it seem more valid thus the psychotic disregard for interesting ness or format but perhaps it will stand as an amusing archive for myself or others in future lonely rainy days, you know. something like that.

funny psychosis moments:

last night, my mom suggested i put some beer in the freezer. it was some nice unibroue stuff with corks, so we re-corked it with an already used wine cork. great. on its side in the ice box, foam started oozing through the corkscrew holes, so i had to stand it upright, and also take out the ice cubes that had beer foam frozen to them.

there was some beer foam in the bottom of the ice tray, so i dabbed at it with a damp cloth, but every ice cube nearby stuck to the cloth, and i thought it was pretty goddamn hilarious. i put it in the sink, but that wasn't enough for dear mother. she had to get the ice off of it.

so, she tried to shake them off. they were frozen to the cloth pretty good though, so i suggested she merely run water over them.

she did this, and I don't even know, you might have to try this yourself to see if you find it funny at all. could be a good psychosis meter. the way the cubes individually plopped from the towel into the sink was quite hilarious. probably more hilarious than the macaroni incident of the past summer. (*too bad i don't have an intern to link to that for me. i'm too lazy.)

probably more hilarious than the vintage psychosis of sixth grade plasticine boredom in which the sound of a perfectly round ball of plasticine hitting a hollow desk is the best thing ever. (RIP elementary school. RIP sara king living in canada.)

i wish wes anderson would make a music video goddamn...

and also, the standard poodle in the family still makes cow sounds. Korova.

FIN

leaving new york

so how about the psychotic guy from upstairs named Johnny (Gianni?)  pounding on my door threatening to "fucking break my legs" if I make noise again?  

pretty psychotic.

On the subway platform, there was a rotary telephone ringing, nonstop.  Empty office, subway platform.  For two bucks a night I guess those wooden benches are support enough for sleeping.  The curves and tiles of 34th are maddening.  Perpetual glow.

I think this blog is probably... oh, on its last legs.  I am probably still psychotic.  But I don't know if this is the venue for it anymore.  

Thanks, summer midnights, for rendering everything funny.

Thanks, Ketel One trucks for solidifying my theoretical loyalty to your vodka.  If I were to drink vodka, I would drink yours.  Maybe.  

Thanks, New York City, for catering perfectly to psychotic tendencies.  Good-bye.

I think I have concluded that the state of my psychosis relates directly to how far back in my memory I am dwelling.  To spend time thinking further about the past is to distance oneself from the present, and the more that happens, the weirder things get.  The other end of the spectrum is psychotic, too; to only have in one's head that which is directly in front... 

I like to think about what occupies my mind when I'm thinking or saying other things.   

Many of the same images over and over again, running continuously I suppose.  

dear december,

I guess I feel removed enough from the psychosis to recognize it in others, these days.

- bird cries in van sant films

In a sedate sort of way, 

i'm sure the psychosis is just sort of sleeping.(subversive.)

  

Eating chili, deliriously happy, at four in the morning is a good psychotic start, though.

Watching puppy Henry bounce on my air mattress is good material, too.

Answering McSorley's payphone to talk to rude men in Wisconsin was rather hilarious, too;

as was trying to use the ATM in the hat shop but getting co-erced, after midnight, into trying on many hats, and then feeling guilty about really just coming to use the ATM, and so leaving, to suggest that really, trying on hats was all I wandered in to do.

Being inarticulate...

(indications of the mess)

days getting shorter/darker, sort of like the fading of my ability to speak properly on a daily basis.  lag time... ha.  like my laptop, too.  not enough RAM.  

The post office isn't open and today was the only day I wanted to go.  I realized I've never been in an actual post office in Canada.  Only pharmacies.  This confession surprised Allison.

this gets stuck in my head sometimes, despite me only listening to it while i was seventeen.

the angelic harmonies, only.

"

... patron on ice

we can pop bottles all night 

baby you can have whatever you like

you can have whatever you like ... 

"

the stucco strip malls lent the illusion of being always lost

but, 

the radio towers

some deteriorating film

corrugated metal and the rain on it

warm tones resonating somewhere in my bloated torso

all orient

but still stuck on november

...

psychosis, 

right now?

the third

"marlborough lights they kill you like shit, i'm gonna fall off the wagon on the third, I been on it too long.  I'm gonna fall off the wagon.  on the third.  you know i like the red label, johnny walker, and busch beer is my favourite, but its hard to find.  Busch beer.  Busch beer.  I like budweiser too.  But Busch is better.  Back in Kentucky its easy to find but boy here it sure ain't.  Busch.  You know what I do when I find busch?  I cut the can in half, make sure I get every drop.  Gotta get your money's worth when you find what you want.  Cut it in half.  When I drink budweiser I just throw it away.  But when I drink Busch, I cut it in half.

What's your favourite beer?  Oh, bourbon?  Me not so much bourbon.  You like red wine or white wine?  Oh, red?  I like both.  Heh.  You want purple teeth?  Drink a lotta red wine, look in a mirror, like this.  You see.  Oh, yeah you know that already.  You know what, drink white wine an you'll have yellow teeth. Go like this:     Yeah then have another smoke and 'll get yellower.  Heh.  The third, I'm gonna fall off.

You know I used to be the best bartender in new york city.  Got an eye for it.  Never messed up by half a thousandth of an ounce.  Half a thousandth.  Never.  You want a wine spritzer?  Yeah some red wine, some white wine, little soda, twist of lemon.  Got yerself a spritzer.  A real wine spritzer.  

You know I stayed with my brother one time, I get in, he lets me shave, lets me shower, lets me sleep, I put on this record before I go to shave, it goes like this:

you want me to translate that to english for you? 

yeah, its italian.  yeah, in english?

i feed you, i share with you, you betray me, you abused me

then the next day, my brother says 'get out you bastard; you can try to come back, but see what i'll say to you.' i ask him why?  something I did when I was drunk.  He says 'I'll never forgive you.'  I know in my head that I will come back someday.  He says 'I'll sing to you while you go.'

he sings 

i feed you, i share with you, you betray me, you abused me

and now i stay at this shelter on lafayette, you know, comfortable bed, feed you good, feed you so good, but you gotta be there by four.  

next time i see you, i hope your teeth are purple!"

- Louie

--- 

ran into somebody i didn't expect today

went to all the wrong buildings

walked determined into the cold sun

home wasn't where i was supposed to be going

i thought to myself

'at least i'm going home'

"enter to exit" - ATM

cosmetics

mascara:

black

very black

blackest black

brown-black

black-brown

brown

LIGHT|HOUSE

last night i fell asleep in the ocean 

then i ate takeout with my mom in the middle of the road

and there was a metal roller coaster skeleton behind us, and before waking up i climbed it

i am getting better at sitting still for long periods of time and feigning interest

my mind wanders

i am giggling on the couch here 

cause "what we really need now is an emotional history of the lower east side; it was wild, it was wild...!" 

my knees are inscribed

and my will is bent. 

the sink is filling up

hi

i ran in a downpour last night, my coat smelled like an animal

on an above ground train, i panicked when i thought the door was going to open over nothing, 

and i would step outside where there's no platform and fall onto the road with all the cars lit by nothing but headlights and taillights and the blue light of the stucco burger king on the corner

(really the platform was just on the other side of the train)

i bought three bouncy balls for 25 cents each from a machine outside a deli, one for each person

the f train didn't come for a long time as usual so we walked

my keyboard is breaking: the a sometimes presses itself if my pinky rests gently on top of it

there was a peppercorn in my whiskey last night

(at home)

cauliflower

I hope cauliflower (call-ee-flower) is good for you because I've been eating a lot of it lately. 

stinkbug

It's Sunday night, folks.

via an un-named intsant messenger service, to my unnamed roommate:

screenname:  I am playing with a stinkbug.

screenname:  I love him.

---

I am drinking beer out of a frosted glass that my good-natured friends in Canada stole for me when I met up with them for snacks at approximately 1 am one night, after they had gone to the gym.  Coerced.  But how glad I am to have this glass to drink out of right now!

Sunday night.  I refuse to do anything.  I read two pages today.  They were really great.  I spent more time drawing a large calendar on brown paper though.  It's really great, too.  It's on my wall.  I have marked significant days, and have come to all sorts of conclusions about varying ways to divide the time I've included.  

I would like to now daydream about the ways in which both calendars and maps reveal much about a person.  I haven't drawn any maps yet, but I've looked at some before.  It's all quite particular.

---

Additional fun fact about this day: Allison and I watched all the videos by username "TittyMaestro" on youtube today.  Really great.  He is from Allison's hometown.  That's how we found it.  Because she was watching a different video about her hometown.  We both endorse 'Fun things to do in York PA'; however, 'Boy Meets Calc' got kind of tiresome; don't bother.  To do so would prove you are avoiding something more desperately than we are.

---

More on our stinkbug amigo:

screenname: and I finally picked [the stinkbug] up and I think he's real happy about it.

otherperson: awwww

otherperson: what's his name

screenname: Brenda.

---

I think that is all for now.  

Other subjects for discussion in the future:

- 'Stepping up' one's 'look' by wearing the same thing every day.  Perhaps it involves a red and yellow scarf.

- Glasses in the sink all filled with water and soap, crackling as the bubbles pop.

- Drinking too much beer and drunkenly referring to "the greatest hits of [some time in the past]" of many subjects, whether or not songs are involved

- Dreading the task of doing laundry, and yet finding the experience to be quite enjoyable and painless while it transpires.  Hopefully this occurs soon.  In the meantime, just the dread.

limping

There was a boy, maybe 11, 12, walking with his mother.  He wore the exaggerated expression of protest even in obedience or submission.  There were loud sighs.  He was limping, too, and held on to his mother's swinging arm with both of his hands.  

His t-shirt said: 

DREAM

the salsa dream

you would have loved it

the light was so clear today, the walls have never looked so hard!

[melindy told me once about someone she knew, or maybe this applies to all; somebody who, getting glasses around the age of 7, saw leaves on trees for the first time, rather than just a chalky bundle, and the revelation this brought.  the delight at all things...?]

so were the buildings to me

on broadway today,

marvelling, wondering if i've never seen them properly. 

the copper, the brick

the seams between them

the columns,

the ornaments, 

the dirt,

something about october.

a clarity of all things.

all precipitated by the arrival of a small chill.

[shiver/whisper/hush/sigh/soft/blow/sharp/gust/hard/lull]

Also, a lack of sleep renders everything holy 

so maybe I imagined it all.  

my eyes unrested...

psychosis:  my Mao prof. having a phobia of bananas, and me almost forgetting, and fantasizing for quite some time about what would have happened if she had detected its presence in the classroom.

challias

welcome to domaine de challias

[should have done it long ago

should have been done long ago

and yet, editing provides its amusements... ]

irrationalities

the other day I kept laughing at photographs, finding mere angles of bodies in relation to another enough basis for hilarity.

people facing others, others facing away-

ridiculous.

the laugh was great, too; 

it came from a dehydrated, light-headed, blossoming place somewhere above my stomach, circulating in the bloodstream, giddier by the moment.

in my dreams this morning, I was walking around my apartment.

various other people were present.  time of day was unclear- the indoor light was the same.  I was looking for the Loire river on a map, but couldn't find it.  I realized the map was double sided, none of the shapes complete on either side.  And so I had to kept flipping it, in attempt to line up the Loire with the Rhone.  Tracing shapes on maps while someone else looks on.  (Lining up lines like looking at real money, the subtle ways of knowing the truth in something...)

Later, I offered 'instantaneo' coffee to Co, and he refused.  Meanwhile, a friend's parents swept my room for spare change, threatening to take any they found.  Desperately, I collected the pennies from my shelves and hid them in my pockets.  

sweet spring, salty summer

well here we are- 

it's raining outside

and things are getting pretty crazy at 109 ludlow.

to blame?  

always the music.  

a triptych, if you will, of vaguely related songs:

what is the tie that binds, you may wonder?

the three together, (sums, parts...) caused a casual psychosis that spanned a few days, perhaps in the aloof month of May when the light was white but the sun sat high and I didn't know what to do with my time so I bought bars of soap, drank wine in the afternoon, stayed inside too much...

open the pod bay doors, Hal:

1:  Destroyer - What Road

Thank you Joanna.  Reminiscent of two years ago, living in a scummy yet spacious building.  listening to the same cassette again and again, sleeping on the floor, the large bathroom...

2: The Battles - Northern Man

I sought this song long and hard.  We found it to be dissonant and snide on first listening.  I like it lots now.  It feels kind of drunken.

3: Battles - Atlas 

Feel good hit of the summer!!!!! 

Encountered this when I thought they were The Battles.  Turns out they were just a soon-to-be wildly popular New York band.  Tell me you are not delirious or in a trance by the end of that--

Mehanata

, to go see so-called 'gypsy swing'  music, I'm thinking django, were you? yes-- to go see it, unexpectedly, at the bar below our house.  taking the puppy out, (yes-- the puppy), we heard the swing in earnest, and realized we wanted it:

we let puppy take his evening nap, went for vodka punches (thank you eastern europe) and cheap(est) beer; astika! the fiddle, the bass, the rhythm guitar, the soloist.  the strings flying in the firefly accompaniment, and us, sitting.  

a man held up a shirt, proud as a parent, he held his prize to see it.  i thought it was golden, but really, it was on fire.  he stomped it on the ground, but still the embers burned cotton, it smelled like october.  he carried it to the bar, indeed, presented it; I spilled my punch, crushed mint all over the bar.

our future friend al jerrari came to wipe up the ice, examine the commotion.  i apologized for the fruit, picked gingerly the mint from the tabletop, throwing remarks about the fire fiasco-- the word seemed to please him, and he wiped the bar with fervour.  

later, we talked with him.  we became friends, maybe; he had a great scarf, and well worn baseball cap.  he is interested in human rights and new media.  standing in the rain for a long time i became gradually saturated. we talked about projection of images.  

(... the light flickering... the dark wood...)

allison and I apologized, referred to our puppy Henry and how we had to let him out.  he expressed reverence for dogs; we promised to let them meet.  he said Henry should come to the bar.  

eventually, standing in the rain, more, Henry unaccustomed to such wet, we talked, and he suggested again sneaking Henry to the second floor-- but we weren't sure; we certainly didn't expect him to let us.  (Al Jerarri, speaking like it would be a crime to turn Henry away.)  

Henry blended into Allison's black shirt.  We sat in a booth upstairs, while the Balkan brass raged beneath.  Al Jerarri brought us beers, napkins to wipe the rain.  Henry licked the cold bottles.

The bartender, gazelle from before, thought I was nuzzling perhaps Allison's midriff and breasts, while really I was covering Henry's ears.  She tried to take away my unfinished beer.  

Way to interrupt a moment, lady---

We left when the brass band stopped.  (Henry again, blending, a part of Allison's body.)

Now the rain on awnings and corrugated metal:

The rain, a first relief; how strange, to hear it on the roof.  Maybe it merely ricochets off the walls that have closed in from our living room.  Never before, rain on brick, rain on construction, rain on thursday night, rain on three beers in, rain reverberating on forty watt sleep, let's go to bed...

........

Snow (Whistler, 2005)

interior, living room, 4am.  winter.

[1000Hzbarsandtone

snowoutsideblackonskygrey

muffleditall

colorbarsourneonfaces

staticskyandconstanttone]

Sydney Crosby in an armchair.  Matching track pants, track jacket.  Feet upon the ottoman, quadriceps clenched, the most unflattering angle of all time.  Michelangelo knew better!  

Clench armrests, talk about self.

(Good night.  Enough is enough.)

Old News: David Lynch Still Psychotic

This blog needs to take a turn for the cryptic.  David Lynch could be an all-too-easy hinge for this move.

(I'm assuming by now it's common knowledge that Lynch is, by a lot of people's standards, pretty wacko; he's taken up transcendental meditation, speaks of bliss in metaphors of water and depth, and wiggles his fingers with eyebrows raised as he refers to it.  I saw him talk at NYU a couple years ago, as many did; though I expected to see Lynch live, I was merely one of many diverted into a smaller auditorium beneath the one he was really speaking in.  We watched a live video feed of his talk, in the room above us.  And he spoke not of film, but of this so-called bliss.)  

Lynch Talks in Berlin

[[MULLHOLLAND DRIVE SPOILER.]] 

Lynch Makes a Crazy Movie

(You'd have to know about the rest of what goes on in the movie for this to effectively 'spoil' anything, and yet...) 

For the record, I still don't like Mullholland Drive.  There.  I said it on the internet.  Other Club Silencio scenes, and this one, are pretty fascinating though.  Theatre of the absurd, amigos, theatre of the absurd.

O'Malley

Peter (my brother) and I were at a family wedding this past summer.  (Our parents were there too; I don't wish to imply they were not.  However, this story doesn't concern them.)

There was a giant fluffy white with black patches dog named O'Malley.  

People weren't supposed to bring their dogs cause at a prairie wedding, I guess that would have been everyone.  O'Malley was certainly a guest of honour, then.

Peter and I drank lots of beer and lots of scotch (respectively) which were purchased in an exchange of pre-purchased 50/50 style raffle-ticket style buy-in-the-dollar-store style drink tickets, which were sold in strips of 5s 10s and 20s, one ticket a drink.  Made the whole escapade of drinking rather game-like.  Play money, play drink.  Investment and return.  (And more drunk, the greater the appreciation in value seemed to be.  Amazing system.)

We soon got bored of the trampled grass dance floor situation and so spent much of the evening on the move.  Like in the popular science fiction series Dune, the strategy for navigating this family event was similar to that of avoiding sandworms.  Irregular, yet constant movement.  Minimal awkardness.  (Or according to the Dune simile, not dying.)

O'Malley the dog had the same strategy, and fortune favoured our journeys that evening; our paths crossed many times, affording me the increasingly enjoyable opportunity to shout,

"OHHHHHHHH, 

MALLEY?!"

into the night.

---

I saw the northern lights for the first time that weekend. 

Sustained psychosis.

PS- How was I unaware that David Lynch directed the Dune movie?  It is purportedly awful.  Are we thinking of the same things, here?  (Possibly not.  Like the 'Battles'/'The Battles' mixup of early-april psychosis related songs, and other instances of me being culturally confused.)  

Oh well, continuing in the vein of psychotic people, David Lynch is an appropriate candidate. Media to follow.

Fitted Twin Sheet

The summer was hot, so of course I'd been sleeping only with a sheet as a blanket, as I enjoy being covered by something even when it is very very hot as the summer's  been.  

One night, in a state of half-sleep, I slid into a fitted twin sheet, and the psychosis set in all night.  Although I was very comfortable, I awoke every hour or so, restless from guilt and anxiety of a project I had not finished.  

Every time I emerged to semi-consciousness though, I was soothed by the gentle embrace of the elastic of the sheet curled around me, and the space of air that remained the perfect temperature between my body and the loose dome of the sheet.  

With every waking, I deliriously smiled to myself, so pleased with this arrangement.  I have repeated the experience since, and find the repeated action like a return to the psychosis itself.  

If you have your own fitted twin sheet, you too can try this.  Now that the equinox is only a day away, its technically no longer summer, and I for one have already pulled my heavy blanket back to bed.  

Friday night psycho video party!!!

I'm gonna have a music video party now.  Here are some crazy songs/videos!!!!

The Knife - Heartbeats 

Originally thought this video was kind of silly/dull upon first viewing many moons ago, but I have decided I am kind of enamoured of it now.  Plus, the first and last shots are awesome, which is something to fall in love with I'm quite sure.  

Plus, ITS KRAZZZYYYYY!!!!!

Cibo Matto - Black Hole Sun

I just found out about this tonight!!! BETTER THAN THE ORIGINAL!!  [I am posting this for audio mostly, but the video is sort of appealing... surreal.] The original version of the song has a pretty psychotic viddddeeeeoooooo too, so well done Chris Cornell for being a part of that, I guess, even if its sort of dated now.  (Very dated.)  

Russian Futurists - Sentiments vs Syllables

This is not a video at all but I decided to stick with youtube.  Enjoy the picture of the album cover.  

This is a song from an early moment of internal psychosis: high school, one April, drinking soft liquor in Marcus's basement, sinking into an old rocking armchair, watching Most Haunted (...) or videos on MuchMusic (if I had my way... OH PERRRRFECT, I have remembered something about a related psychosis moment which was shared by a number of my friends and I haven't related to anyone for quite some time.  I will add it as an exciting bonus that I did not expect or think to include in this selection of videos.)  

Oh, 70's tweed couches! Oh, dark April!  Oh, Katey on the treadmill with a beer in hand!  Oh, that shelf of boardgames, cardboard boxes all breaking! Oh, that time we watched the Lion King and it was freezing 'cause that fireplace is only ornamental!  I fell asleep on the floor!

So, this particular time I played that Russian Futurists song, we actually watched some videos on MuchMusic after, but drunk, were all alarmed and confused and deeply impressed by what we saw:

BONUS!BONUS!BONUS!XTRAPSYCHOSIS!!!!!!

Turn it uppppppp.

My week has been rather uneventful.  

I'll probably do something psychotic this weekend though, so I'll have to try not to be so self-conscious about the psychosis and just let it reveal itself.

A visual metaphor for the psychosis:  animated, yellow eyes lurking in the  darkness beyond a clearing in some Looney Tunes forest.  Maybe this occurs in Snow White too.  What else.  OH YEAH, the scary wolf creature lurking in The Neverending Story movie.  That's actually a little more alarming; quite frightening.  (Great piece of work, incidentally.)  I wonder if The Neverending Story's "The Nothing" is worth exploring in terms of some greater metaphor for psychosis and perception of daily life?  Probably.  I'll get on that.  

Writing About Mallo Al Mar

(photo by tergiversation on flickr)

I had one of the best dreams in recent memory a couple weeks ago.  

It was set in this seaside town that had been deserted, called Mallo Al Mar (so said signs in my dream.)  There were run-down boardwalks with old tile-decorated lamp posts and peeling paint storefronts around the perimeter, but the whole place had recently fallen into the hands of some company that wished to turn a profit on historical tours and such.  (Yes?) 

My dream self walked toward the end of the boardwalk, before it seemed to turn a corner. I leaned on a dirty, but ornate metal railing, watching the water burn.  There were craggy rock formations in the shallows, and at high tide, a toxic algae seaweed substance would become snared in the rocks, then catch fire until the water was clean again.  The sky was heavy grey.

I watched this happen, until the glow stopped and the water was dark and quiet.  

Then, I was on an open-air trolley winding up a cartoon-y mountain;  (perfectly conical, all evenly green... like Switzerland, or the Smurfs.) There was a scary old lady (similar to the tyrranical Hilary Matts, former teacher and head of IB at West Vancouver Secondary School) narrating historical facts about the mountain.  I wasn't paying attention.  Instead, I looked over at the branch of land that I could see beyond a river that snaked around the mountain base, silver and unmoving in the afternoon light.  There was a beautiful cathedral perched on the very waterfront of the other bank.  

Allison was sitting beside me, both our hands folded on this roller coaster-like tour.  I said, "Hey, do you see that cathedral?"  Because suddenly, it was only visible through some giant buildings and cloud structures.  (Upon googling, it looked similar to this one, which I haven't been to, but I've seen some like... this image really did it though.)

Back at the bottom of the mountain, we wandered into a beach souvenir shop which was dimly lit by grey fluorescence.  The shop had inflated waterwings and tubes hanging from all wall surfaces.  We shouldered our way through the place, and I looked at goggles while Allison talked to the surly shopkeeper; an old man in a wifebeater stretched over a tanned hairy belly.  She was trying to negotiate employment for her boyfriend, who had inquired about working in this shop earlier.  The shopkeeper insisted he did not actually need anybody else, but Allison didn't believe him and was upset on her boyfriend's behalf.

We left angrily without making any purchases, and emerged onto a path leading to a small beach under a tall bridge.  The beach was bound by the cement foundation for the first major pylon, and on the other side, dense blackberry bushes.  There was a birthday party on the sand, and somebody had a bouncy castle set up.  I swam, watched it from the water.  

We retreated abruptly, crossing the bridge to get back to Mallo and by the time we made it, I was dry.  Allison wasn't there anymore.

It was twilight again, and I was up to my waist in the ocean.  I was being chased, and it was supposed to be a game, but I was afraid.  I was in the shallows, with the rough rock formations, but here was a sort of underwater arcade of naturally formed columns, evenly arranged for the surface area of maybe a basketball court.  The waves frothed against all of them when they came to shore, and gasped as they pulled back through them.   I moved erratically, hiding now and then underwater.

I waded in and out, avoiding my pursuer, and eventually made it ashore before the seaweed caught fire again and fizzled out by the rocks just behind me.  A crowd watched from the boardwalk, their expressions all equally unconcerned.  I don't know what happened to the person chasing me.

----

I am trying to figure out where I got these images.  The obsession with so called Mallo Al Mar:

Mallo means husk in Italian.  Al Mar means to the sea in Spanish.  I am also told that Mallomars are a popular snack in the States.  I had never heard of them, but I've eaten them under a different name.  I'm not sure how they are related though.  Ha.  

Also, there is a town called St. Malo in France, which I once wrote  a brief report about, but have never been to.  This picture looks remarkably like one of the sweeping aerial views of the town in my dream.)

This dream was very beautiful, and I thought about it a lot.  It is responsible for a more quiet psychosis, not so much the usual laughing madness.  I think I will include all dream material as legitimate psychotic content for the purposes of this blog, as dreams are often strange, illgoical, and warrant fixation the day(s) after.  And fixation often leads to a strange sort of delirium.  

I'm sure the surrealists would be in favour of this move.  Maybe I really will write about something remotely academic/not myself!  Coming up next, my favourite psychotic artists?!

Psycho-Throwbacks!

Boomp3.com

This pre-dates the official Psychosis period, but played a major role in its early development.  (c. April 2006)

Thanks to Allison for possessing this file, and accidentally leaving it on repeat one time.  (Or did we do that intentionally?  Who knows.)  

To imitate the psychosis, allow this to loop, allow yourself to get distracted, and observe the effects after you become aware of it once again.

(Special thanks to Philip Glass, whose psychosis is probably greater than mine, if some of his work is any indication...)

Scatter Patterns

One day in August, I didn't leave the apartment until about midnight.  (It was my own fault; the result of procrastination and dictated  by a deadline.)  

On such days, I find the desire to eat when one hasn't really moved to be the greatest source of disorientation.  The brain needs something to get going, but the body certainly doesn't.  I decided to indulge in some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, or Kraft Dinner (KD), in Canadian parlance.  

After boiling water, I dumped the noodles into the pot, didn't stir, hurried back to the computer.  Within minutes, they had over-cooked themselves into a gluey mass, and burned to the bottom of the pot.  Having never known anyone incompetent enough to burn pasta, this was a new and unpleasant experience for me...

... And it presented the concern of imbalance- one pack of instant cheese, no pasta.  

My solution inspired a bout of the psychosis.  I still cannot rationalize it, and I have indeed tried; and yet, there is something hilarious about the incident to me.  (pictured.)  Something about the way the noodles fell from the strainer, scattered, and the angle of the holes, and the white kitchen, the plastic, the seashell of ash on the stove struck me as hilarious, and drove me to document.  Not soon after the initial hilarity, the act of documenting, too, inflamed the psychosis; the awareness of the absurdity always serves to enhance, not undermine it.  

In the end, I lost time on the project in attempt to clean the pot, aerate the apartment of the burnt stench, and make new noodles.  There is probably a lesson in this somewhere...  (Spend as much time as you want making meals, even if you should be doing something else?)

A Long Time Ago In A Galaxy Far Far Away...

The psychosis began with the flowers.  

Allison and I were not the intended recipients, but the plant came into our care anyway.  It was getting lonely on top of the mailboxes of our building, unclaimed for a few days.  

We assumed it was something normal; an apology, a get well, an 'I don't love you anymore' plant cause who would actually send a plant like that to someone they loved, and so we decided it would be appropriate for us to claim it.

After a few Pimm's Cups and Sidecars from an assortment of bars in our neighbourhood, our courage was screwed to the sticking place and we knew that this plant's time had come to be given a home.

Upon unwrapping the cellophane, we were faced with a strange and exciting surprise:  the flowers were shaped like a creature.  It looked like a demented puppy, with googly eyes and strange ribbons spewing in place of ears.  The card inside the neon tissue was addressed to two men, and referred to some business project.  Every Word Of The Message Was Capitalized, For Some Exciting Reason That Really Made Me Love The Gift More. 

The plant creature was responsible for many personal breakdowns in the days that followed.  Merely calling its addled expression to mind had the effect of instant madness on me.  Like an inside joke, an inside breakdown occurs in public and its reason is unknown to those who witness the event.  This in itself is always hilarious, and adds to the illusion of madness.  In hindsight, this was the beginning of what I now term 'the psychosis'.  

This blog will attempt to document the subsequent events of a psychotic nature, and any that ensue hereafter.

PS:  Seriously.  Imagine picking up that creature in an intoxicated state, going to sleep, then waking up to it sitting in your living room the next day.  I hear sometimes drunken people do this, but bring a person home- not a plant.  I hear this situation often results in embarrassment or regret the next morning.  I, of course, was just faced with the constant and eager plant-creature's expression, and who could regret such hilarity?  Beautiful. Psychosis.