Enlustered


It Don’t Matta (Repeat x 8): Turn Down For What
June 15, 2014, 1:36 pm
Filed under: Human Potential

Hmmm. Let’s see. I was planning what to write as I searched for this Panera Bread I’m sitting at now in Alyson Park, PA (never heard of it, someone just told me that’s where I am, not sure about the spelling.). Anyway, I wanted to explain that I’m taking a long break on a long drive. I’ve taken a couple/few breaks so far on a (what?) eight-hour-plus drive from Richmond, VA to Cleveland, OH. Uh. In other words, I going the way of the hare, not the turtle. Not “I’m going” but “I going”.

The hare is confident that he got this shit in the bag. He takes naps, he relaxes. He sleeps with the lights on in a crummy motel because the world hates him and wants to kill him. (Huh?) No, no he doesn’t. (Yes, yes he does.) He knows he will win no matter what (even though the world calls him a loser), so he can take a roundabout path if he wants, he doesn’t have to walk the straight-and-narrow.

Slow and steady wins the race in the devil’s upside down world, but not necessarily in life. (Oh no, I said “devil”. That is wrong. That is definitely crazy. Yes, yes. You know EVERYTHING the world has taught you. No need to think for yourself.) Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with the turtle, I guess. Except that this world hates its “successful people” as much as it pretends to love them. It murders them, who they really are, wants them to be perfect images. I saw a picture of a turtle recently bound by a plastic, canned-soda holder and I believe it was symbolic of what this country does to its winners: it restricts and constrains them with all the things it deems “trash” (like being “negative.” We don’t like “negative” people, like Kanye West. The (devil’s) world hates him.)

Anyway, I keep seeing rabbits, and you know what us crazy schizophrenic niggas do. We make crazy sense a shit. Well, I do, and other schizophrenic people I’ve met who don’t know to hide themselves and be ashamed when they talk to me do as well. In this world people making “crazy” sense a shit is wrong. It’s murda: “Murder was the case that they gave me,” said Snoop Dogg. (And people who do make crazy sense of shit get the book thrown at them AND get murdered by medicine to make them someone they are not, forced medicine in fucked up psychiatric hospitals, like Old Vineyard Behavioral Health in Winston-Salem, NC.)

The straight and narrow is right here: get married, have kids, make lots of money, marriage between a man and a woman, same-race preferably, be positive, don’t judge, smile, smile, smile says your employer (your God). The path of least resistance = the path of most social acceptance and success.

The straight and narrow says that if you make mistakes, you are a loser. The world says I’m a loser. I’ve walked outside naked a few times, gotten frost bite, dropped out of grad school (feeling like I couldn’t do nothin right and shit), drove all ova the place thinking I was saving the world and my unborn savior baby conceived through emaculate conception. And, guess what? This world wants to put me and shackles and kill me.

It wants to kill who I am and make me believe I’m a mistake. It wants to force me to take medicine and threaten to abandon me in some mental hospital (Old Vineyard Behavioral Health in Winston-Salem, NC from May 28 – June 13, 2014) until I bow down to the world and admit that I’m a mistake, an abomination, a “chemical imbalance” in the brain (said the “doctor at OVBH ova and ova and ova and… Good Lord!!!). It wants me to take medicine I don’t believe in by mouth in the hospital setting (refusing to do so and getting forced injections SEVEN TIMES is NOT enough. I wonder why?).

“Kill yourself” says the voice of society in your head. It is the devil. Some people hear an audible voice. Some people feel the voice… and they listen. And they are considered “normal.”

I feel so out of it lately, so disoriented. And then once more afraid of everything. A voice keeps saying I have PTSD from my experience at OVBH where I was restrained and forced to endure sometimes painful (always disorienting, and unbearable) injections of the psychiatric drug Geodon. I feel I’m being negative here and I feel bad about it, but as I finish out, I’m satisfied with what I’v written. My fear at times: Is it me or is it the indoctrination I got in that hospital that wanted to remake me? Or is the world’s remaking of me, which I am still fighting. Perhaps this is the battle hinted at in that Snoop Dogg “Deep Cover” song I was hearing.

Over and out. Back on the road I go. I got kicked out of my sister’s house because I refused to take psychiatric meds, so that’s why I’m headed to Cleveland. Someone I know said I could stay with her. We’ve never been super close, but we just kind of appreciate each other. She definitely has said stuff to suggest she thinks I’m crazy. The difference is she says it, AND she sticks around to hear what I have to say in response. I don’t have that kind of interaction with anyone else in my life right now. Over and Out niggas!

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[…] “Is it wrong to steal a lot, Marla?” A voice just asked me. I laughed. I said, no, it depends on what’s in the heart. I will have to tell the person to whom this refers to. I do not have the guts (not yet) to go through with stealing anything (not even when I was hungry… mostly for fear of getting caught), I don’t think, but one of the first things I was hearing a lot (and saying a lot) when I started to “let it all hang out” was, “Turn down fa wha–!” on Facebook and even a post on here. […]

Pingback by Do Ye Rememba: ‘Turn Down Fa Wha—!’ | Enlustered




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