The Handcuffed Dummy in the Di nero Chair

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"You're just too happy being miserable, aren't you? Some people are like that, I guess."

A friend of mine writes. He's right. What can I say, I am happy. Maybe too happy. I mean, have you ever taken stock in your life and found it deficient? Have you ever got up in the morning, and your dreams are sweeter than your waking days? Have you ever had more friends in those dreams than in real life. More room to live? More food in your fridge? More love in your life?  Have you ever wanted to live in a dream and never wake up?



I'm sure you have. But my question to you is have you ever had a nightmare, and have awaken scared shitless and look around finding that you are more scared shitless being awake than you were dreaming? That the nightmare was not all that bad? Yeah, I'm on a anti-depressants, and for good reasons. What's the number one killer of homeless people? Have you ever had that question answered for you? I have, because I have been in and out of the psychiatric wing of social services. In New York, it's dying in the wintertime. Freezing to death because you have no home to go to. OR this is what everyone thought.



For this reason, the Mayor of New York, at the time, instituted a new law, stating that shelters and churches HAD to let the homeless inside if the temperature drops below freezing, so that these people would have a place to stay warm. He even added to the places that the homeless were allowed to go, such as train stations and bus terminals. When it is below freezing, the police, usually tasked to patrol these areas, turn a blind eye to the homeless cowering in corners.



AND STILL a record number of the homeless died the very next year from exposure to the cold. The psychiatric social workers reviewed the cases and found that some of these people were dying because they didn't want to go to shelters; but why not go to the stations? Did they not know that they could? Another, more realistic reason, which the psychs came up with on their own, was Suicide by Weather (SBW). Yep....many homeless people are so depressed that they choose to fall asleep in the cold in the hopes that hypothermia will overcome them, turning their sleep into a peaceful death.



So NOW, the Mayor has instituted a law the the police WILL arrest you if you are caught outside in temper- atures below freezing. They will take you to the nearest shelter or hospital, and if you refuse to go, straight to jail. Can you imagine someone FIGHTING to freeze to death, that it would take jail to get them to dismiss the option? So the number one reason for death among the homeless was revived to suicide. In New York that is. I don't know what it is in Louisiana or Texas.



Am I depressed. You bet your damn skippy, and I have a right to be. Why not? Who is living the life I'm living and are running through the grass, chasing butterflies barefooted? Not me. If you are, the nuthouse is calling. Wait until the truck arrives. I'm at the lowest point in my life, rock bottom, or actually dangling off an outcropping on the side of a cliff wall. I'm fucked in many ways to SUSAN, and the truth is, I'm not going to go in my room and hold my breath. Neither am I going to wait for the cold weather, take my pillow and go sleep out on the corner. I'm not going to swallow knives, or jump out of my window facing a fucking brick wall to an alleyway. I'm not going to pick fights holding a knife with armed police, neither and I going to jump in front of a moving subway car.



I'm going to blog, and point at all the shit that makes my life so miserable and laugh at it. It may sound like I'm complaining, but as my friend points out, I am happy. IN fact, I am overjoyed, because all of these things have not caused  me to crack or even lose my sense of humor. I can look at an empty cupboard, and comment with a smile about the layer of dust and cobwebs inside. I can put on second hand slacks with stains and laugh at how the stains can pass for splotches of art and make the pants look trendy. I can point at the Skeks, and their never ending retardation that makes life miserable to live with them, and point out the stupidity of losing one's temper with the mentally challenged.



I can have fun,  make mention, or really have a black hearted, mean spirited, evil, nasty, bitter, vitriolic blog that makes people NOT want to read me but instead feel true pity for my plight. It's okay to feel bad, but not abject pity. I don't feel pitiable, why should anyone else? Why not lets have fun being miserable. I'm sure everyone else's lives are not walks in the park, so why not celebrate the failings, or at the very least take heart that you aren't me.



And also gather strength, that if I can deal with all of this shit, so can you.

Yeah, I am  happy. I would take it no other way.

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