These are the observations and confessions of a madman. However, the accuracy of what I am about to say must not be dismissed out of hand simply because I am mad.

These are indeed observations of a mad man: a man out of his head, mentally ill. There are lots of names for it. I am a madman, yes. For there is no other way to call me – unless, of course you would think that I am not really mad. And then, I suppose, you’d … well, you’d just call me Steve. And let it go at that.

My point (and hopefully I’m not dulling it here) is that my being mad (just assuming I was mad) does not logically rule out the possibility that I speak the truth.

In any case, take the following for what it’s worth: the daily ramblings or rumblings of your average crazy/in remission and approaching terminal diagnosis, (which will probably be a hebophrenic type of dementia as per the prognosis of a good buddy from the hospital ward) /a crazy man writing his diary and sometimes forgetting to stop between sentences like this/ just playin’/mad man’s confessions/ diary.

OK, here goes……………..

1.1.2011, the first of the year

I’m in Santa Monica at the Starbucks on 26th Street and Wilshire Blvd. It is January 1st of the year of our lord 2011, and I sip my coffee from behind a small round table. Looking out at the world.

The wise men tell us to look within. To turn the light around. I don’t know. I still enjoy looking out at the world. No, I’m not discouraged by what I see. The world is a beautiful place. It has to be. People are still people.

A number of pretty women sit around me in the café. But each is busy with a computer. Am I crazy to still want to be alive? I check out the women as if I were a young boy. I suppose you could call that “inappropriate behavior”, and I suppose you could say that it’s all tied up to being crazy, and to my diagnosis (which is Psychotic Disorder NOS by the way, I saw it in my chart) So maybe it’s crazy to be the way I am. But I feel alive and I feel all right.  Give me being alive any day of the week….

I only heard things, you know, had the auditory hallucinations, a couple of times. I was never that seriously mentally ill. My mistake back then was to be too honest about it. You know, “Yakkity yak. Don’t talk back”. I simply didn’t have the sense to keep it to myself. I was young and stupid. It’s an old story. I blabbered about my visions to anyone who would listen. After all, my visions had been so wonderful. I wanted to share them with people. I was never selfish.

As I say, I only had the “so-called” hallucinations a couple of times. And only a couple of admissions. Actually four. And it was a very long time ago. I suppose the only “problem” (and me myself, I do not consider it a “problem” in quotation marks) is that I still am totally certain that what I saw in my visions was the truth. That those dreams or other worlds, or call it whatever you like, are real. I am sure of it. So. I keep it to myself. I keep it under my hat. Anyhow, this is my diary, you know?

OK. So you want to know about my visions? Well, all I can say is that there were four of them, four visions – one from each direction. And they all appear to me at once – even now, now that I think of them. Or rather, it’s that I align myself to the proper position and then they come to me. I can feel them and sometimes I can see them.

They are on all four sides of me at all times. They are on all four sides of everybody. They are always there. And the lands that they hold in their domain are the lands and realms of their respective sectors of the world, and each of these four lands or domains holds in its turn the souls and the spirits of all men and things that came before us.

The four directions. They are always with us. But we must do good. That is what they told me. Now you know.

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