A Night in 4 Acts.

Yesterday was probably the "craziest" I've ever gone. So many variables, so many switches of mood, all leading into an absolutely rotten mindset. I'd say one of the biggest contributors was the changing situation and variables. It's amazing how actually doing something different for different amounts of time can completely change your mood, your feelings, and your sense of time perception. Sitting at the computer for ten hours straight, and believe me I've gone longer, is quite a different experience from going from location to location, different group of people to different group of people, different subjects and different activities. It's almost common sense, but for some reason my experiences in such a setting last night seemed to make 6 hours seem so incredibly long, the beginning seemed so distant it was hard to remember. I suppose it's not really 4 acts per se, just my changing mental state, because otherwise I would make this nice and humorous. At least crazy. But what I felt in the last waning hours of last night is completely devoid of humor or any remants of joy.

I won't go into details because they're not all that interesting (Details of the exact circumstances; the warping and twisting will be covered a bit). But by the end it really reminded me of Catch-22. Not in a bizarre, off-beat manner like the first part, but as the book goes on and characters start dieing, it goes from irreverent to increasingly grim and depressing. It all culminates in "The Eternal City", which I still think is the best capture of despair, hopelessness, and futility in a harsh, cold world that I've read. Anyway, that's what last night was rather like. It started out fun and irreverent, me with slight blood loss and increasing delirium from a combination of mental and emotional stress, lack of sleep, lack of food, and just plain not caring about trying to be reserved (believe it or not, I am occasionally). I even made a double entendre, which I normally don't do and probably wouldn't do if I wasn't slowly descending into mania.

The next act was a tad more stressful. Two lines of thought going along and intertwining, one fun and positive, the other depressing and tormenting. My delirium increased and where I previously was slightly contained, I began to go all out. I have fits of "violence" to get rid of it all so I don't do things like, oh, I dunno, tear people who insist on touching me in HALF, but more on that later. Anyway, these violent fits are a tad excessive, but I don't really care. There are times to be restrained and times to not, and I wasn't really hurting anyone, so what the heck?

The next act I calmed down a bit. But the fun, entertaining side somewhat dwindled, the tormenting stream kept flowing, and now a third line of thought enters of repulsion and disgust. That's me being touched again. Nothing wrong with that and minor to anyone else, but when certain person does it especially for slightly extended periods of time, it begins to sap whatever reserves I have. Most of you just don't understand my mentality in terms of physical contact, and I can understand. But it's when you persist that I get angry. Whether or not it's harmful or you understand it, that doesn't mean you have the right to decide what's good for me or not. You go to Prom and I tell you what I think of it. But I don't try to stop you and persist in downing it. I try to let you know how it can be detrimental, but ultimately if it makes you happy, I let it be. However, you don't understand how contact infuriates me. It's like you're invading my personal space and involving me in something I don't want to be involved in. And I can do nothing to stop it. I don't like physical contact because it involves me in things I don't want to be involved in. I can remain distant emotionally and literally which is how I'd like it to be. It's easier. But when you make that direct contact it's like a connection I don't want or need. Too many more variables are added in to an already confusing and painful mess. I don't want any more of either. It drains me. I can tolerate accidents and brief contact. For instance, Lee occasionally hugs me but lets go very soon so it's just amusing to her. But extended contact just makes me wither.

Anyway, so this happens and I'm drained. And then the final act, the tragedy. I watched the movie "Four Rooms" which was a terrible movie. Not necessarily in terms of cinematic merit, but from what it portrayed and the message it sent. If you haven't seen it, it basically consists of the story of a bellhop on New Years who goes into four different rooms and has all sorts of demented adventures. The format was a nice idea, each room had a different writer and director, and it was meant to be a comedy, but instead it was just terrible. It brought on that feeling from "The Eternal City" of immense spiritual, moral, and ethical depravity. No character in the entire thing was likeable. It was just sin, squalor, and corruption throughout. I suppose that was the point, but by the time Quentin Tarantino came on and just started a long line of F-bombs, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and the K-town hood were all pretty much destroyed. The display of just plain corruption really had an effect on my mental state. It left me angry and disgusted. This, combined with all the other variables previously mentioned, sapped practically every last remnant of compassion and love from me and left me a bitter, cold, agitated, irate shell.

Perhaps I could have gotten myself out of it, the emotion that is, but I wanted to learn more. It was almost nice and beautiful in a raw, corrupted way just because it was so powerful. Like sadness is so incredibly painful but beautiful in a way depression isn't, this corruption, this incredible sense of despisement, loss, and spiritual, moral, and emotional rot was so strong and raw it couldn't help but be somewhat magnificient. It was terrible, no doubt, but it was...something. To be so devoid of care and love, just hate and anger. My heart was not broken, it was incinerated, disentegrated, and just plain disappeared. Sort of like when I decide I want nothing to do with love because it's too painful, something has to replace it and there Hate is like a sly, devilish imp ready to make the switch without consciously alerting me. You want something so bad, it happens, but to an extent that is simply abysmal.

So I finally came home in that mood and would have written then, but my sister was using the computer. And she was listening to Disney music. Very loudly. So when she came to latch onto me in that quasi-loving but really sadistic way of hers, I just hurled her away. I'm not usually that violent, but the anger I had gave me a surprising strength so I could just fling her away. I did apologize, even though I'm sure she didn't deserve it, and I managed to contain my anger to the point so I wouldn't stab her in bed or break the dog's neck. Mind you, the two thoughts occurred to me in the sort of way it would occur to a madman who really could not care about the repurcussions, so crazed was I. If I had weaker morals, I would have. I might have dropped the f-bomb myself last night, I'd heard it so much from Tarantino. It's a terrible word, after so many times, but when used with the right emotion (the actual connotations of the word completely disregarded) it really captures depravity and anger like no other word can. But my morals, those blessed bastions of confused Puritanism, stood in the way. I always knew they were good for something...

So I just thought I should tell you what raw emotions can do, although I'd say you probably already know. It wasn't really that dramatic, but it was just different. Such is Modern Art I suppose. It's terrible. But soon, oh so sweetly soon, this sort of thing will fade into distant memory and never plague me again. I'll be that much closer to peace. All things in moderation.

To think, I achieved all this doing hardly anything at all. I'm like my own microcosm! I don't need drugs or alcohol to go crazy, just lack of sleep, lack of food, and modern art. Wrastlin's tonight, who knows what wonders that will bring out. But you won't know until next time...