Otherness 12

So I’m living with this creature underneath my bed, right? And its mind is in my mind! At first it was scenting me, and it stank to high heaven of nostril-offensive reeking sh*t. It put its hand on my telly, in full view of my mince pies (eyes). Oh so clever. Last night I physically felt a shiver of fear course thru my body, feeling it tug my covers. A momentary lapse of defences. Then I recovered. I’m sleeping with my feet tightly tucked in under the duvet, not hanging out over the edge of the mattress. It started talking the other night. It said, “You’re trying to cut me up!” because I was putting angle grinders under the bed where it harbours. The pottery I did several years ago look like alien sentinels, and I’ve been mounting them alongside the bed as well, bordering it in. It’s all a fight of the mind. Visual cortex combat.

I think that my mind is hooked up to a computer, and that a very determined and wicked handler is putting commands into my brain. Commands like a special effect, going “He-he-he,” like demoniac laughter. You know, like a nice little witch’s cackle here and there. I’ve seen screenshots of torture programs on PCs. They’re like music libraries. Hundreds if not thousands of sounds. The sound of a wolf scraping its claw; the sound of a knife on a chalkboard; the sound of a child screaming for mercy. Nothing is out of turn in the torturer’s collection centre. They can not only put noises inside your head, but outside of your head too. Think of your mind as a 360 degree sphere orbiting around your skull like the halo from a light bulb; they can put sounds underneath you, to the right or left of you, and above you. For years, concerning the pain dungeon underneath my flat, I told myself that this was the case. In recent times I have learned to live with TVs (torture victims), and their oppressors, as they are both within earshot of me back at home. I am more or less living with them. I see my own home as a kind of chamber; one that I front with ill manners and minerals on a daily basis. Ill manners are a bad attitude, and minerals are strength. That’s how I fight the Devil. He built a secret bunker underneath my flat for the purposes of bringing me down into it, only I am too strong to kidnap and too powerful to capture. I’ve learned this from God, who will not stand for such vile underhanded and dastardly endeavours.

Enough negativity already. It is now Day 12 on my 28 Day Principal. That means that I am 12 days clean. 12 is a new special number. It started two years ago when I was at Tranmere Rovers’ football ground. It was a big event. We had presentation talks and a buffet. I met a woman who was truly special. Her face was amazing. She reminded me of other civilisations, because she came from afar. I’d never experienced anything like it. I mean, I’ve fell in love at first sight before, with Bennie, my spiritual benefactor, but this was different. It was similar in a way, but hard to explain. I started thinking about Aztecs and Sumerians and Vikings and Romans and Aboriginals every time I looked upon her sweet pretty face. It didn’t make any sense, but felt unique. She was so strong in features, her jaw was so set, her eyes were so inviting. So, from now on and evermore, Day 12 of my recovery numbers is dedicated to her. Surprisingly, I can’t remember her name. I don’t think I got it, but she chatted me up first in the dinner queue. I’ll remember her forever. I really do believe in Love At First Sight. Like I said, I experienced it with Benny. But this woman had a sense of wisdom and worldliness about her that blew my mind. I could tell that she had travelled, tell that she lived, loved and lost, tell that she had laughed. I felt like I knew her well. She was like a ghost particle in human form; something seen to be believed, something mystical and wondrous and enigmatic and singular, so singular, like a sun or star. I was the satellite drawn to her orbit.

I call this Day 12 mental state OTHERNESS. I am now OTHER. The target has always been RARE (28 Days clean), but now I’ve shortened it to OTHER also to give me a bump along in the road. We need hikes up here and there; we need helping hands across the way. I invented it, I created it, I enjoy it. I didn’t conjure it up because I was finding 28 too difficult of a target, it was delivered to be by this baffling and cryptic mysterious woman. So I’m taking it. RARE will be so special this time – it’s special every time like, but not so sugary honey-glazed candy-coated as this time will be. I’m on a journey, I’m going somewhere.

Every time I get there, a new spirit comes out to play. Her name is Air Monroe, she was one of my first characters in fiction. She embodies my love. She IS my love. The world is a far nicer place with Air Monroe in it. Because my soul gets sucked from, and all my ideas are recorded by the government, I got to thinking that this character is the moniker reason behind the very popular brand Nike Air. She goes back decades. Maybe you think I’ll getting delusions of grandeur there, but it’s not out of the question. I’ve been a MK-Ultra victim since birth. My head is like an open chocolate box. Reach in, take your pick, and leave a parting note in its place. That’s my mind. Interfered with, messed with, f**ked with, unraveled and unscrambled from day one.

I remember one time that I was thinking of two massive hyenas to suit my darling little spirit Chloe who could have them as her pets and soon after, later, I saw two hyenas in a Beyonce music video. A lot of mental illness these days is caused by the telly and celebrities. I met a patient in hospital who said that Kenny Dalglish was causing his sickness, talking to him via microwaves in his brain. I believe it, as I have an awful lot of celebrities talking to me in my psychosis too. I once met a bloke who said he was ‘thinking’ Hollywood scripts in half an hour and seeing them in the movies several months later. I thought he was barmy at the time, but that was before I was barmy. When you are barmy, and you full well know that you are barmy, you see other barmy people in a different light.

 

Wolf

Did I tell you about the time I punched a wolf? It appeared on top of me and bit me, waking me up from slumber. It was snarling at me as if I’d just burned its offspring alive in front of it; sheer animosity and hatred emanated from it. Its venomous hostility was hard to understand. As soon as I woke up properly I started punching it in the gob. My hand made contact with it. I then knew that it was real. The most difficult aspect of psychosis is defining what is real and what isn’t.

It fled after a few digs to the mush. Battered. I fell back to sleep as if nothing had happened. But I recall it so clearly; it was visibly there and solid to touch. Jet black, with gleaming sharp white bared teeth. I’m not sure which shape-shifting spirit it was, I think it may have even been my head honcho protective spirit Red Jacket, trying to teach me as lesson or something. I know her true nature is a wolf, I’ve seen her with my own eyes in my bedroom being a wolf. She is so beautiful to me, Red Jacket, she has fights with the Devil over me, and gets stuck in to protect me. I’m so grateful to Red Jacket, over what she has done for me. Who knows have many other fights she has had for me?

One time when she fought the Devil for me she split into two people. I get two for the price of one. One of them looks like Katy B in a cat-suit, and the other looks like an ex-girlfriend who now says she is my wife. She announced that last New Years Eve in hospital. She said she has waited 60-odd years for me. I know she has being around me for about 25, without my knowledge. I also know that I enjoyed kissing her several weeks back. She said that my breath smelled like halitosis, tooth decay and cigarette smoke. My breath made her face really itchy. I wasn’t offended, we are all really honest with each other. I accept that compared to true spiritual energy, I am living in a rotting corpse. Saying that, I don’t think she would have said that yesterday when I got into a cold bath and bathed thoroughly. I think of Chloe when I get a cold bath. Chloe is a spirit of a child who looks like a cutey-pie Victorian. I describe getting a cold bath as “Easing the nipples in.” When I lie back into the freezing water I always come out with that expression, and it’s as if she is getting a bath with me, and we are both saying, “Now we’re easing the nipples in…”

I pray to Chloe. I ask her if she can send my prayer up to Red Jacket who in turn can pass it onto the big fella. I believe she does exactly that. Thank you for listening, Chloe.

 

Reprieve

I should be in psychosis now, hallucinating with a mob of evil phantoms. I planned to use last night. I’ve had no intentions all week but yesterday afternoon the addiction crept in and put my relapse in the post for me. I was counting down the minutes as usual by late evening. My money normally goes in at half nine. I meet my dealer at the cashpoint every time. I had my porno DVD set up and everything – Kacie Castle was waiting; only, to discover, much to my chagrin, that my money hadn’t gone in. Disaster!

I tried half an hour later and half an hour later after that, then decided to cut my losses and get a pizza with some high-strength lagers. I sat there drinking and smoking thinking I was missing out, I should be snorting some nice lines by now, but eventually, after an hour or so, I got over it. I was more worried that my cash flow had been stopped, and the money wasn’t going in at all. Fortunately, I’ve checked the bank this morning and it’s in. It’s gone in!* But the problem still remains. Will I use later, when my dealer finishes work?

I felt so fresh waking up today, clear-headed. I could get used to the feeling. Normally, I’d be bogged down by voices. Maybe it was my higher power giving me a night off, away from the drugs. It’ so nice having no voices, life is good and the world is a great place. With them, it’s just so miserable. They’re so negative, it rubs off on me, plus all my brain chemistry is mixed up and scrambled beyond all recognition. All that besides a host of other neutralizing cons. It would be super to stay clean and get through this payday again, I was forced to do it last night, but only because choice was taken away.

It’s Easter weekend, a time of year earmarked for holiness and divinity, and I want to feel good about myself during it. I might even go the cemetery again and try and will Apocto into being (the giant pair of lips I witnessed hovering in the sky), as something special always happens when I go to the graveyard and mutter a mouthful of sincere prayer. There’s a little special place where the infants are buried and I’ve considered going there to ask their souls for assistance in my stand against evil, only if it’s not a burden to them of course. I did something similar once before in the dead of night, with the spirit who I call Cam lee. We were both charging across the graves in the dark and I was shouting for help from the dead at the top of my voice because I kind of collect ghosts around me. I knew that they were present and I just needed a bit of support from their realm.

“I’m in a real struggle for my life here dead people. If it isn’t too much to ask can you please spare some time aside to help me conquer Lucifer? I wouldn’t ask and I hope you don’t mind but I’m desperate and my eternity is at stake. Thank you.”

I remember going to a mass grave on some hospital grounds and saying a prayer, only to see several spirits rise up from the soil and join me. They looked like semi-invisible transparency. It was an uncanny spellbinding moment which pleased me greatly because one of them looked like Plain Jane, one of my favourite characters from one of my favourite books which I written myself. It was so pleasing to know in my heart that she is onside. Being with her makes me feel childish with giddiness and glee. I was inspired to create her as a character from a porn movie. That’s happened on several occasions. I spent so much time with porno women, I wrote about them and made them real in my books; that carried their legitimacy on into the spirit realm. It’s extraordinarily fascinating. As an apostle of an all-powerful mighty God, my life is charismatically magnetic with fanciful energies and mysticism at times. I need to focus on this positivity later when my dealer comes knocking with a £240 bag of coke for sale, which will more or less drive the Devil into my consciousness with a thunderbolt. Not needed, and not necessary. I prefer to hang out with angels, preferably.

I’ll probably use, although I have large doubts. I’m kind of using against my will if I do, because I really want to cling to this freshness of mind I have at the moment. It’s worth clutching onto tightly. I’ve come to the library first thing today to get out of the flat, and after this I’ve got a Soup ‘n’ Chat meeting at the local mental health drop-in with Fiona. Then it’s a Positive Thoughts group at Pathways, and I’ll probably have a pint after that. Soon after my dealer will be finishing work and I’ll have a decision to make. It’s just so boring without drugs, there’s nothing to do, even though they always make me end up in tears. It’s that familiar bed of nails I’ve grown so accustomed to lying upon. Hopefully, with a bit of luck, determination and will power, I might survive Payday Mark 2.0. Whatever happens, I wish you a great and happy holiday period.

*“It’s gone in!” is the commentary by John Motson to my favourite ever football goal, scored by Steven Gerrard in the FA CUP Final against West Ham, 2006. Got me out of my seat.