The Sock-Monkey As Alone

  “Do you know how many times you texted me?” “I’m sorry I have paranoid schizophrenia and I am trying to learn how to socialize. I apologize and I will never contact you again.” And I didn’t ever contact that person again. I don’t know who she was and it was well over ten years ago when I Was in the early stages of recovering from a sustained psychosis. I have just paraphrased from memory the text she sent before I blocked her on a dating site. How many times did I text her? like thirty or forty over a period of six months. So why? This is going to be hard to explain for someone who has had a normal life. The answer is simple I didn’t know what would happen. I didn’t understand that not responding once is a hard fast rule for when to disappear from a closing door and that maybe if you swallow your pride a second message reaching out before closing a door. I have paranoid schizophrenia and been through some fairly traumatic stuff in my time. Some real… and others so sub...

  Yuri Lear lived out among evergreens in the great wilderness all alone. He spent his days in the haunted world.   Of   hedgehogs and their dilemmas.   He lived in a cabin long abandoned by a river that supplied him with fish and fresh water. These were the days of Yuri Lear. He would day dream of Dragons and Samurai and the quest of one to kill the other.  Yet he was never part of their quest he was simply an observer of dreams. One day when Yuri was walking home and an Owl spoke to him. “Your grandmother loved me and my kind. She had owl statues all over her home. She collected idols of birds of prey confused as scholars.” Said the Owl “I never knew my grand mother.” Said Yuri. Yuri turned and walked away as the large owls head twirled and danced and watched him walk away. The bird chimed hoot hoot as if it cursed Yuri’s very life. When Yuri got close to his house he saw something leaving his home. White with black polka dots and a red mane of h...

  I played Sonic 1 an 2 quite a bit as a kid. I missed out on Sonic 3 and Knuckles till the last decade. I don’t know why I am so sentimental and gloom and doom about stuff. I don’t understand why I remember things as being so dark when it is very likely I was as happy as I ever was. It’s very likely all of this is a reframing of the past from my later depression of my teen years. It’s kind of funny when you remove yourself from the memory  of depression you have a moment of clarity where things feel like they will be ok. The world is not a black hole it just feels like it when you’re depressed.  Back to Sonic I used to play with my brothers when I was about eleven or twelve. We never beat the original two but I think I will soon.  The past is there waiting for us is one of the more interesting things about retro games. Your relationship to the past becomes active as you play the games you never finished.  I collected sonic comics and had almost the whol...

  I was about eight or nine coming out of an early depression. My mom had taken all my toys and put them in the shed. I was getting old enough not to play with toys to begin with but that left me with an old nes I found in the basement and a vhs player to watch movies.   My uncle started giving my sister an allowance of five dollars a week so she would learn how to manage money. She was a near Olympic level athlete , and in a few months from now, all those years later will receive her masters in business .    I broke down crying saying I would have bought my family Christmas present like my sister if I had an allowance so my uncle gave me five dollars a week from when I was about eight till when I want about thirteen. Though I did not ever use that allowance to buy other people Christmas.  What did I buy? Foreign language anime mags I no longer have and about 12 of 15 vhs anime tapes and later Sega genesis video games .  I could not read at the t...

  I am going to meditate on my failings as a writer… not to be neurotic or to perform being humble, no, instead I choose honesty. I share things before they are finished is my no 1 problem or I let them gestate till they sour in my mind (This would be my no 2 problem). I put off sharing personal projects until I abandon them and then share the scraps just to free myself of the bile. My lack of ability to spell or formal education in any kind of grammar is one of the reasons I am trying so hard to find a way to tell my stories in other media than prose fiction. I love written language but I struggle with how do I express the romance of an impotent poet. Of being a writer constantly being showed my own lack of gift with language. I have written stories where a man is raped to be nothing but dominated. There is all kind of problematic sex in my writing for two reasons the first is that sex is an expression of neurosis in its purist form and the second is that Alan Moore said onc...

  This is how it happened. The dark and the glory of it. The sky swirled with shadows. The storm was upon us in fire light dance of fury that was the storm of raging skies. A firestorm of tornadoes, I saw the ship enter into the atmosphere the cathedral like ornate and baroque lines flickering with flames as the mothership off in the distance as large as a medium sized moon. The shadow of a future and the memory of the past. This is the Wizard Tusk see it out there is eyes with rage and hatred. It’s mouth open with ships coming and going from it’s belly. Arthur Oliver is my name and like all stories mine will fade. What telling of a tale is there if not the ramble that gets us going. If not the hurly burly of language carrying past the bad poetry in the endless corridors of the collective unconscious ? This is that storm but not that storm. This is the the madness of the Wizard Tusk. The celestial star cruiser that be swallowing up whole civilizations. I was not one of the l...