This is NOT Over

Tuesday September 19, 1989 – I Once Was Found

…but now I’m down. Jesus Christ blows my mind. Every time a big ball of shit rolls down the hill into my life I just sit back and think, ‘Man…or, Son of Man, he dealt with way more fuckupedness than I ever will.’ His mom made him use his superpowers at some wedding (probably in front of people he didn’t even know that well). In Mark’s third chapter, the scribes (Bob Greene may have been among them) said he was possessed by Beetlejuice and his family tried to put him away. He was almost killed several times in all four gospels...um, before he was actually killed in all four gospels. Crowds threatened to crush him just to touch the robes or whatever he wore. Another group of disgruntled temple-goers wanted to beat the crap out of him right there in the temple. He saw his own death coming and went ahead with the mission anyway. They hung him on a tree next to common criminals and he told one of them they’d meet again later that day in paradise. That also can be translated as “park” from the Greek. That means cemetery.

I received judicial papers this afternoon for my Labor Day incident. I’ve been charged with possession of alcohol (presumably internal possession), harassment (even though I was the one who received a beating) and destruction of personal property (pissing on clothes, not my own).

…and that’s just page one. Actually there was only one page, but they issue a handbook when they give you the page listing the complaint(s). Lots more pages in the handbook. I’m not sure I take any comfort in the handbook since the people charging me are the authors of the handbook. But those folks run the dorms and work for NIU. Hippies have taken over University and made it a happy place since the 60's haven’t they? I have no reason to fear hippies, do I?

Michelle D is trying to help me make sense of it all. She doesn’t want to see me strung up for being drunk, stumbling into someone’s room and pissing on a pile of clothes. She’s cool but I don’t think I am easy to help. Tonight we argued. I still maintain that I was less drunk and more sleepwalking and it was the sleepwalking that led to the dreaded piss-harassment. I had several sleepwalking incidents as a kid. One night I almost went French-statue boy in my dear mother’s face. Sleepwalking seems plausible to me. Michelle doesn’t think it helps in this instance, but she hasn’t given up on me which is more than I can say for me.

What do I know? The other day the president comes on tv with a big bag of drugs that someone got at a park near the White House. I hope to God he had someone check it for glass.

Finished reading The Plague (my third time through the book) and once again, I am a total fucking idiot that deserves to die from plague. During all the subsequent readings I never bothered trying to learn anything about the narrator, the person who compiles all the info about Oran from Tarrou’s diary and various other sources. Why bother reading a book if no care is taken to wrestle with one of its great mysteries? Books are wasted on me.

Tried picking up the “Relative State Formulation of Quantum Mechanics” dis (also for the third time). Currently I am trying to decide which is more impenetrable, the writing or the mathematics. Man, I thought men in the 50’s were supposed to be wife-beating troglodytes, although it is entirely possible that I am stupider than a troglodyte. Legend has it they always knew where to piss.

Buttweasel’s lady walked in the room right as I was putting the old-timey quantum mechanics piece on top of a copy of the Bible. She laughed at me. She laughed, then asked a dumb-ass question about the reading material on my desk. I said something like, ‘If electrons and prophets can do a bunch of supernatural shit, why can’t I?’

WhiteSOX got beat today. Stupid fucking Angels. I guess the joke would’ve been on St. Petersburg if the team had actually moved. The St. Petersburgers (citizens of St. Pete have to be called something right?) would love to cheer for a team plumbing its way to the depths of the American League West…and yes, I think the St. Petersburg/Crampa Bay SOX would have still played in the American League West. The Phoenix Cardinals play in the NFC East right? See, I’m not the idiot. The fucks-for-brains that organize these sports leagues are the fools that don’t know squat about geography. I am only stupid because I care about such things.

Mom called. She says the Goo is writing her first psychology paper. My little sister is writing her first psychology paper on me. Sort of a hackneyed thing to do. I guess they were heavy on math and science at IMSA…heavy at the expense of original thought. Then there’s me. Plenty of original thought (or the thoughts are new to me) but I am still a total dumbass. Either way, on some level I’m flattered. The Goo cared enough to write…her psychology paper on me. Maybe I really fucked her up during our childhood…but no worse than the voices in my head fucked me up. So there. Even if Crissy determines that I am a borderline personality and her diagnosis is confirmed with a decent grade (and at Butler grades still mean something) I’ll still be flattered. And I’ll have a ready made excuse.