I guess I’m an old fashioned headcase when it comes to insanity, I don’t hold with all these newfangled approaches, socio-cognitive behavioral therapy, all this reality testing, pathologizing norms and normalizing pathology, whole fuckin country mentally ill, sweeping undercurrents, it’s a conspiracy is all, regardless what the godless handlers have to say, don’t tell me they don’t have a stake in staying ignorant, fuckin theorists, hi, remember me, the rat in the maze, experience, yo, experience, treat me like an animal, ha ha, half-right as usual, I am an animal, dipshit, the primal canvas to your new and improved high-tech airbrush, psychopharmacology cosmetic counter, you call this progress, I call it the same old paint by numbers template.

Sorry if I’m going too slow with all this, but we need to untangle their slipshod spaghetti plate strand by strand, unless of course Seinfeld’s on, in that case sorry, don’t wanna fuck up your priorities with forever irrelevant and commercial-free outcries.

It’s overwhelming and omnipresent; the world is too much with us, huh, so

let’s try not to even think about it. Our culture parents have credentials, we can barely get the groceries coming in the door on a regular basis, surely they must know what they’re doing with us.

Sorry, right thinking is not a question of brains but one of will. So we show them a little tenacity, let’s think this through, as an act of courage we owe to ourselves, our friends, and all the scarred, dead heroes who sacrificed their professional cachet for the likes of lazy lame-ass losers like us. Who’s rolling in their graves tonight?

The name Ronald D. Laing mean anything to you? It should. It really should.

Let’s get this straight right now:

I am what they call the identified patient, what’s that make you, huh, come on, thinker, guess what you are?

You’re next. Closet Crazy.

Unidentified Patient, you just haven’t learned how to really live yet have you?

Guess how many disorders are in the DSM today. 800, something, whatever, now guess which ones are gonna disappear. I’m serious, I want us to guess, speculate; fuck, that’s what they do, there’s no proof, only feelins, history, us, them, fuckin scheme of things, like they don’t have a floorplan layin around here somewhere.

Psychology sucks today. Sucks the life out of me.

Fine, let me rot.

Nope, nature abhors a vacuum.

Say bye-bye genius, zest and vitality, not allowed to be gifted with uncommon vastness, chaos and urgency of primal creative impulse (aka“mania”), we have new better madness to replace your god-given kookiness, which just happens to put us on easy street in late model Italian Sports Car, say hello to your deficits, no, not love, retard; learning disabilities, psychosis, dissociative states, panic, Suzy, unproductivity, yadda yadda, get fuckin correct, we’re big, successful and more welcome than you’ll ever be- no quirks, no aesthetes, just happy go lucky winners flingin happy go-lucky bullshit, you will cross your legs like a lady you will enjoy the sensation of the new and improved minkstole (straightjacket) stolen from other

useless animals, too.

Hi, trouble here, don’t ask me who the hell that was. Think I enjoy channeling fuckin Tom Robbins on Troublewaits?! No, god, jesus, help me, can’t stand the man, but I fight like I fuck, remember, whatever it takes to get you and Kramer involved.

Back when I was acting out at Mac and Joes in Oxford Ohio the barkeep was readin one of Tom’s novels and I took it out of her hands and threw it in the trash-why bother reading at all if you’re gonna waste your time on shit? She wouldn’t serve me so I said look hon, someday I’ll prolly be a famous writer myself, now I want you to remember this little incident so you can recognize yourself in print, that’s you I’ll be talking about, yep, won’t that be nice, you must admit I've given you a lot of my time and attention today, why don’t you buy me a drink and we can celebrate our special new friendship?

Calls 911 instead. Typical.

So anyway, how you kids comin along w/the scholarship? What did I tell you to do, from day one, did I not tell you to get the words into your goddamn vocabulary? Don’t make me come in there, get with my program, face it: too late now for you to be finished with me, ever, sorry, it’s been tried

(see psychward roll count) ha ha ha.

Fighting words:

IATROGENIC

Explain please.

You think I’m playing games? You think I care so much you reading me right I could make the fuckin effort to tell you the meaning of the one word I keep hammering you with? You’re absolutely right. Oh, and while you’re at it look up the word

DISDAIN

or as we like to say around here, skip along huh.

Psychology was traditionally an exploration, like philosophy, theology, art and interesting recipes thrown together by masterful chefs.

Modern psychology is basically Lottie.

Hey, someone actually emailed that they don’t get the Loretta reference, thanks, nice to know you people are killin me.

I don’t get this. Big snafu. Is it me or is it you?

My friend Biffi (you remember Biffi from ~~Suicide~~/Survivor Notes, right, we saw what’s his name, ivy league acid head Timothy Leary and afterwards friend Peter called him an ass-hole for me and Biffi was the one who found it all so refreshing). Anyway, she’s got a four-year old kid now, good husband, is movin to Kentucky to raise something, the dog is still around but is blind and deaf and has arthritis, anyway, Bif- oh wait, I should mention that of all my truly godlike American friends she is the one who’s grace and intellect prepared me for my date with the webaster, take that as I meant it, and you get a gold star, Harvard.

Ok, I trust her judgment, and Biffi knows I’m scared of losing you, knows what this means, she’s way more maternal than me, is an actual mom, but still said fuck em, don’t explain, put it out there, be clear and precise the first time and if they miss it don’t penalize the alert readers by slowing down and explaining shit they alone took the time and effort to attend to, it’s an insult see?

Actually she said nothing of the kind but it’s what I got out of our phone

call and I just had to share, no problem hey, you’re welcome, anytime.

We clear on Loretta for now? I’m learnin how to get into the website this weekend then will show you the right colors and fonts to explain things you don’t understand, but til then try not to embarrass me, ok, wait til Nick Cave finds out how slow you dummies are, gonna be some mighty heavin footstomping in the revival tent tonight, come on reader, buy a cd someday, thanks.

Let’s end on a high note today, come on in Dr. Disobey, tell ‘em what you told me last week when I told you I been wonderin if my boyfriend is thinking what I’m thinking and if so who’s doin the speakin here, him or me:

why be the punchline when you can be the set-up?

Why be the bullet when you can be the knife?

Home is where my heart is, sorry fly in the ointment, better life-form next try, promise.

Dr. Disobey:

Hellhound is coming to Austin, you’re gonna spend a week together, you’ve known each other 13 years and have never met face to face, and you’re not feeling chased? My god Robin, here’s your chance-run off with him, pack the cats, go, do whatever your heart says, fuck your cognition, here comes your man, enjoy the ride!!

Wrong doc, you missed it. Go to the store, buy a dictionary, understand my words, understand yourself, thanks. I said I need to feel chaste, Doris Day/catholic school Cary Grant chaste, he knows this by the way, been backpeddlin ever since.

Backpeddlin all the way to Austin?

You sound just like him, collaborator. Fine, go ahead all, make your plans and plots and schemes, doesn’t matter, I should have been dead 20 years ago anyhow.

True love is what it’s all about trouble, are you truly in love?

I want money, courtship, long engagement, money, transportation, white dress, food, money, all the stuff, plus he needs to prove he won’t turn into a capitalist, fuck me up, get rid of the dayplanner, houseclock, schedule, I’m sure he keeps a timepiece, I am against these watches’ feelins, there are rules and tests and tricks he has to overcome, men love this shit, doc, you’re right, it’s the chase they care about, thanks for straightening me out on that, I been around, I know what I’m doin.

You been around critiquing. All right? Observing. Here’s your chance to

experience,

now what are you gonna do with it, bear in mind how lucky you are to even get a chance at love, have you considered that? What a liberating, growth-producing adventure this could be if you’ll just live in the moment, go wherever it takes you, so what if he fucks you over, it wouldn’t be the first time, you know how to survive being rolled over by men, you’re an adult, you can say no, set limits when appropriate,

relate,

that’s what we do in relationships,

relate,

but you don’t even know what’s coming and you’re already closing doors, why say no to experience when you could just as easily say yes? You got something better,

Lay it on me.

WHAT THE HELL KIND OF THERAPEUTICS IS THIS??!!!!????????????????????????????????????????

You tell me.

love,

trouble

Home.