THE CAPED CRUSADERS

     So sorry for the delay... Lots of "stuff" that we needed to take care of...

     Some of the stuff has been related to my counselor and my shrink (why do they call them that?).  My counselor, Mr High (and yes, that's real last name) is a couple of years older than me and is a hard core Vickings fan (and that subject has never come up). He has nested nicely in his office and is totally cool.  And his cool vibe sort of wraped around me (like my guitar does when I play it).  During our first session he had me run down the details of why I was there.  He didn't raise an eyebrow at any thing I said (though he typed a ton of notes into my file).  He then wanted to make sure I was not suicidal.  By then, my time was up.  However, having seen him more than once, the pattern seems to be him starting by asking about my major malfunctions before he opens the floor to general conversations that help him to get to know me.  He never interupts me but does ask questions about said subject or will tell me a story about someone he knows who went through  something simular.  He also answers my questions without reserve.  Simply put, I love this guy.

Then there is my shrink, "The Undertaker."  I've given him this title because the first time I met him,   I was introduced to a tall (at least 6 feet), white haired man, wearing a black suit and white shirt.  His face showed no emotion other than most funeral home personel have when you go to see them for the first time.  Think Lurch from The Addams Family, except ALIVE.  Plus his real last name rhymed with Undertaker.  
     The Undertakers office was smaller than Mr. Highs was.  Uniformly decorated with nothing personal there to give his patients a clue to about him. Not even family pictures on his desk.  The result was a sterile environment which felt both cold and scientificy (alas, my first experience of  being a newly discovered insect species sitting on a glass slide, looking up at a giant eyeball).  
     Anyway, I went through the basic stuff I had already gone through with Mr High. But in The Undertakers case I probably only got to finish about 15 to 20% of my sentences which were answers to questions he had asked in the first place.  He also never smiled which made me determined to find the chink in his armor.  
     He seemed to focus on the audtory hallucinations.  The winter storm one specifically.  And  this is where he started on my second session.  We got into a small debate about whether or not alternate dimensions even existed.  I told him that the issue wasn't whether or not this could even be a thing.  The issue was fear I had because I couldn't see it.   So he shifted attention to "seeing things."  I told him I was aware of and often could often see into other dimentions.  He asked me how long this had been going on.  My answer?  "Since 1992 when my buddy Skip and I had a close encounter in eastern Kentucky."  He asked me to describe that experience.  I began, he asked 5 more question in quick succession (which was easy for him since I didn't get more than 5 words out on any of them before being asked again.  Looking back on this, I think he wanted to see if I was aware that I was making this up.  6 questions about the same subject but not related directy to the other questions.  Since I answered all of them without hesitation, I think he at least believed that I believed it.  10 minutes later my time was up.  I asked him if he was a believer.  He asked about what.  "UFOs," I replied.  By this time we here both standing to leave.  He shook his head, no.  But then he did something I found interesting...  He put his hand on my shoulder and asked if I'd seen "Close Encounters" (which, amazingly, I have not).  He then gently squeezed my shoulder, SMILED, and leaned down to make eye contact with me when he then answered, "THAT's a great movie."   Of course Lauren and I are determined to see it before my next session.  The exchange there was so crytic, but I got the feeling that the real answer (or at least a clue) to my question would be there.  

I think I may have found the outer chink.  

LATER GATORS!

IN AND 0UT OF THE FOREST, MR HIGH, AND THE UNDERTAKER

     So, not long after my last post, I woke up with my "Batshit
Crazy National Forest ...YOU ARE HERE " map unfolded and covering my face.  I found this one a tad bit odd considering that fact that I hadn't taken it out of my pack for at least 2 days.  PLUS, I used the pack as a pillow and other than then the dent from where my head spent the night, it had been untampered with.
    I  quickly discovered this to be a different map.  Instead of showing the entire forest, it showed about 2 square miles around me.  It also gave a destination and a series of dates and times for when I was supposed to be there.
    I would find out very soon that my counselor was Mr. High.  And that my psychiatrist was "The Undertaker."  I will be filling you in on these classic fellows and how I am dealing with them in the next post.  At the moment I am trying pin point where this smaller map fits in on the larger forest map.  If I can place it correctly, I can map out the entire forest...

A BRIEF NOTE ON BATSHIT CRAZY NATIONAL FOREST...

     For those of you who have never read me in this format before,  being literal is boring... not only for me to write, but for you to read.  Obviously, Batshit Crazy National Forest does not exist.  So, when I'm "in the woods," I am actually dealing with shit in my head.  My brain is the forest.  And everything I write from the woods translates to a fantasy based on what's really happening. 

HALLOWEEN IS OVER BUT IT'S STILL DAY OF THE DEAD!!

     Ah yes... Day of the Dead, or (as I tend to think of it as) Artsy Fartsy Skull Day.  Please don't get the wrong idea.  I, in no way, mean any kind of disrespect here.  To me it's more or less a Halloween bonus day, in case I missed something.  
And let's be clear here, I've missed pretty much everything this year going all the way back to January 1st.

     My shining moment has been starting a blog for the first time in almost a decade about forging a safe path through the Bathshit Crazy National Forest.  If what you've read so far hasn't seemed like much it's because I'm still in the parking lot at the entrance.  I was sure to hit the camp shop to register my existance and pick up a map.  

     I have to admit that having a map available seemed way too easy, but I share my love of maps with Pop.  I could read a map before I could read words.  I opened it up just to have a peek and laughed my ass off.  It's basically a topograpy map with no other markings other then a black X at one edge that says "You Are Here."  I feel lucky that water is a part  of the natural environment.  There are no marked paths, roads, or Ranger Stations.  There are no side notes about what sort of wildlife I may run into.  Hell, there isn't even a key showing the ratio of distance.  I just know that I am here.

     So with that said, I will grab my pack and just hike on into the unmarked forest of my future:  Batshit Crazy National Park.  I'll be in touch soon.  Right now I need to get going before I lose my resolve as it just occurred to me that not only wasn't there any mention of me coming out of here in a better state of mental health, there was no mention of me coming out of here at all.  Which led me to realize I have no idea of how much of the unmentioned wildlife in here might me other Batshit Crazy candidates like me.   

   I'm just happy for the unlimited internet (which really makes no sense) that will allow me to enjoy 3D visits with my wife, Lauren.  

OK, COWBOY UP.

WAKING TO FIND MYSELF CLINGING TO THE CEILING WITH MY FINGER NAILS

     I  think the only thing I had going for me was that I could clearly see that it was a sunny fall day through the window.  Fortunately, when it was cloudy the day before yesterday,  I wasn't having any dimensional bleed over.  As I said before, I have experienced this phenomenom in the past to the point of becoming rather comfortable with it.  How ever, these instances have all been visual.  Meaning, I can SEE where they are.  Last spring I started to have auditory ones.  

     I became aware that I could here a party taking place, presumably in a neighboring yard... Faint music, lots of voices mummering, the occasional burst of laughter...   All in all it was very jovial, and even though I soon came to realize that it was happening whenever I went outside at night.  As in, every night.  As in all hours of the morning.  I'm not sure why but I consider this to simply be a hallucination.  It doesn't scare me and I find I can sometimes hear it during the day and not always at home.

     However (and you knew there would be one of these coming), I've been having a new sound that makes me feel as if I am being hunted down by it.  It is a very specific winter storm.  I can hear the wind rushing through the studio end of the house.  I know it's winter because the house sounds different when gusts blow through and the temperature is above freezing.  It is not a storm we've had yet.  And we might not ever have it... but it's happening somewhere within the pages of "now."  

     Why has this become the bane of my existance?  It's not random like the party noises, it is always exactly the same, and I can't SEE it.  It feels dimensional so I'm pretty fucking sure I'm closer to it than I should be.  And since I can't see it, I have no idea where the entrance is... meaning I could easily step through without meaning to and not be able to find my way back.  

     It's almost always a night thing and sometimes, like today, I wake up hearing it. When I wake up to it, it makes it harder for me to function properly during the rest of the day.  The meds are extremely key in this scenario.  And now that the rest of my med cocktail has disolved into the lime green magna soup running throughout the mixing board of my brain I have finally evened out to the point of being able to address it with words.  Elfie is outside running around in the yard.  I can see her.  And even if I could still hear the storm, her nonreactional behavior to it helps me to properly travel through the rest of the day with a true compass.  I'm going to post this and go out with her.

    Never let it be said that the right puppy isn't good for all that ails you!

BEFORE THE INK RUBS OFF IN MY POCKET!!

BATSHIT CRAZY 101

     I would like to start off this new adventure by saying I wanted the title of this maiden post to be the name of this blog.  Google, however, apparently had other ideas.  They don't like what they perceive to be "bad'' words.   So I compromised by naming it the diagnosis my family doctor gave me on a recent visit.  After all, it is the reason to start blogging again. 

      I seems that as long as the title of said blog fits into their comfort zone, I can use any words I choose.  Let's try it out, shall we?

Fuck, fuckity, fuck-fuck... 

     Yes, and I am STILL HERE!!

     OK, so since I've established my freedom of speech, I will fill you in on the "whys'' of these diagnosis'.  

     I'd have to say the hallucinations have to do with the "tree people."  Of course there's more going on then that but she really didn't need to hear more than that.

     The delusions have to do with my ability to detect how thin the line is between me and other dimensions.  Of couse, I've been aware of this since my buddy Skip and I had a close encounter with an alien craft if Kentucky in the early 90s, but I could see by the good docters expression that I probably shouldn't bring that up.  I also neglected to mention that since I had died earlier this year and was brought back to life, the dimension thing has become more frequent in that I can often hear what's going on over there which means I know I'm close enough to accidentally pass over since I can't SEE the entrances when I can only hear them. 

     The  mania comes from the fact that I had drunk a Monster energy drink on the way up there and so was talking and gestering at 3 time the normal speed, trying to get everything out before my time was up.
      So that's how this party started.   I am batshit crazy.  And I as this blog progresses and I fill you in on some back story as well as keeping you up to date on all the cool batshit stuff that will be coming my way, I have one thing to say:  Open those wine bottles and if you've got joints, light those bad boys up.

     I'm saying EVERYBODY is invited to this meltdown.  So let's get together soon!  


     And, oh, I forgot to mention the mutant nematode invasion that has infested our house...