Apparently the fragility of the contents of my cranium is matched only by my acute frustration that unlike, say, the master Phil Dick, I am unable to harness my wacked-out neurons and produce marketable product. Of course, the redoubtable Mr. Dick popped many red pills, stayed up for days at a time, and died of a burst head at the age of 54. No matter! I, whose Head remains Astonished, will no doubt triumph in some fiscally rewarding fashion. Or not. That depends, I suppose, on the output of my products.
Of which I have, at the moment, but one, that being the sheer unencumbered force of my personhood. Pardon me for a moment while I do a little soft shoe to demonstrate said force.
There. This is theater of the mind, people. Think Sammy Davis without the googly glass eye. And white. Without a career, or famous friends.
In fact, forget all that and move on... to this!
SSRIs Explained
That's right ladies and gentlemen and indeterminates, now you too can participate in the massive clinical trial that is modern psychiatry!
Just nip on down to your neighborhood licensed Psychiatrist's Chamber and ask for one of the new, modern wonder-pills that will turn you into Tony Robbins if you'd only give them a try. Chances are he'll have a drawerful of free samples and can send you home with a big bag of assorted pills. Try one for a week or two, and if it doesn't work, try another! Your neurons just love new experiences, especially when they affect serotonergic neurotransmission.
There's a standard Cartoon Moment which usually follows being struck upside the head, wherein the smitten animated character shakes his head rapidly from side to side with a sort of gbl-gbl-gbl-gbl noise, and his frying-pan or boulder-flattened head is returned to its proper shape. That's pretty much me all the time now.
Glb-gbl-gbl! Oh yes. Only, the repeated shaking just seems to stretch my head out into ever more fantatic balloon animal shapes, and not the weird six-dicked monstrosity that the clown at your sixth birthday party tried to tell you was a giraffe but which you just knew was for Naughty Purposes, no. We're talking big sky-smears of stained glass that fill the entire room, here. Not at all suitable for board meetings, or showing up at the office, or having intelligible conversations with the checkout lady at 11:30 PM whilst purchasing a Cadbury Fruit & Nut Bar, a dozen cans of Reddi-Wip, and some cordovan shoe polish. Oh no.
See, you think you've read it all, but I give it to you now: Mental Disintegration, blogged live! Check back to see how far it goes, watch amazed as the Astonished Head implodes before your very eyeballs.
Mmm... eyeballs.
