fictional journal of an insane man

Here are the rules: you can either add to an old entry by copying the last posted text (if it doesn’t seem complete to you) and copying it into your post and adding to it whatever odd sentences or paragraphs you see fit, or you can add a whole new entry into the journal, starting with a fictional date and time that doesn’t necessarily have to have any linear or logical relation to the previous journal entry. O-tay! Let’s begin!

January 3rd, 1992 3:45 PM

As I sit here writing this entry from my room by the window of the upper floor of the Rockport Insane Asylum, I can’t help but notice the wonderful shade of pink my room has been painted. I commend the good taste of my cell’s interior designer!

Somehow, when I look out the window I feel something missing. Look at all the shiny cars in such a hurry. I wonder if she might be driving one of them; if she sometimes drives by to see me looking out the window, wishing, dreaming. If she even thinks about me at all. I watch as a bum in the park by my building urinates behind a tree.

Damn! who thought that pink would be a good color for a room in an insane asylum! It makes me want to puke- especially since it’s the same color as the inside of my stomach.

January 4th, 1992

It's weird because I can stare out the window, close my eyes at the trees and the wind and the leaves, and become God. I direct the branches on the tall trees to wave at me inside my empty room. I blink and things make synergistic computations that explain what's unseen to them-- the Unenlightened.

My nose touches the window: I watch as the cars dance below, flags and parades buzzing. Sometimes I want to bang on the window! They're a brilliant parade of colors and movement but they're going in the wrong direction!

Alison came to visit me today. The guard sat outside my door last night. This morning I walked by him and wandered over to the couch. Sat before a TV that didn't work and waited for Her.

She held my hand while I silently sent her messages with my eyes. She was so close. I wanted to tell her everything I knew, that I'd master everyone and get out of here and explain what had happened. With words, I told her I felt lousy and claustrophobic; she patted my hand and said she'd be here waiting however long it took for me to get better.

July 7th, 1992 5:45 PM

They came to visit again. I woke up from my dream about Allison to four pairs of strong claws holding my arms and legs while a tall thin bird-man with glasses plunged a needle into my arm. He said don’t worry, it will be okay. He told me to calm down, he wasn’t going to hurt me. Then he plunged a needle into my arm. I cried. I closed my eyes tightly and willed myself to change color, to disappear. I turned orange, but they wouldn’t let go.

I was dragged down a long corridor. In the recreation room, I walked in circles for hours, feeling like a motor was running in my chest and wouldn’t stop. A stygian surge of mindless energy was taking over my body. I couldn’t stop moving my legs; even after the white coats tried to make me. I explained to them that if I stopped moving, I’d die. They kept saying “calm down. It’s okay.” over and over. They were talking down to me as if I were a baby or an invalid. I screamed. They picked me up with their thick purple tentacles.

Suddenly, my arms and legs wouldn’t move, no matter how hard I tried. The motor in my chest moved to my head. I started talking and talking. The world around me began to fade. I felt peaceful. My body sank through layers upon layers of warm melting nothingness. I must have slept through the entire next day, because when I woke up today, I heard one of the guards outside asking another guard the date, and he said it was the seventh.

moves too fast in pictures images they turn and trajectory jolting slides I fold my feet on the carpet and lose myself in speakers eyes massage the keys with a pin, pierce silver prick on the keys bite around my nails always fleshy and painless coffee and sprinkles swirl in the pink cup but my head is curved like mannequin it’d be so easy to go back

July 70th, 19 11:11:11

Must hide journal. Must hide EVERYTHING. They will find it. They are coming. They will take it. I will make the journal into a paper airplane. Damn these stupid glass windows! How am I going to free myself if I can’t throw the paper airplane journal pages out the window? Maybe a bird outside will rescue me. I heard the crow say midnight. Midnight, the birds will come. I will come at midnight. They. Hidethepagesinthemattressformeplease. I feel the Earth move, I feel the tumbling down the tumbling down. Matt, Joseph, Amy, Grephen, Becky, Bo, Bill 7:30 to 2:00, 8:25 to 9:00, 6:00 to 12:00, 3:00 to 11:00, 1:00 to 9:00, 4:45 to 8:30, 9:15 to 11:30. Remember, I will call to you. I have called to you. The call has come. The birds.

I hear the city moaning I hear a million voices breathe my name: Thangukari

So I floated through insubstantial air above a wide desert towards distant mountains, a deep thunderous vibration resonating through the air, passing through my chest and my body. A voice entered my brain, so close I could feel the music of its thoughts. The words whispered by my ears so quickly I had to reach out and catch them.

“…love…beginnings…we have always been… the children of the stars, born of stardust; the iron in the hemoglobin that makes your blood red came from a star that exploded billions of years ago, before the beginnings of life itself…fusion, joined as one… eternal

A warm updraft blew my hair back and blew in my earlobes. The sun was suddenly so huge, and yet so tiny. The earth fell away beneath me, and I tumbled through the vast dark desert of space. The earth is an island in the desert of space.

A ghost nebula loomed ominous and magnificent in the distance.