Sunday, March 25, 2012

Innocuity

An experimental paper, jury-rigged to a KO-therapist's desk a few floors beneath my place by a fogged-up glass Coca-Cola cup, reads off the following:

In most psychiatric cases involving paranoid schizophrenics, a dearth of rationalization characterizes the patient's unbased terrors and illogical hallucinations.  Addressing such concerns at their source can relieve tension and foster a rapport between subject and doctor contributing to steady recovery. Have the patient sit down at home after taking their prescribed medicine and describe the objects and settings around them in a basic manner. Record any irregularities present in their transcript. Utilize this material in future sessions to pry open the patient's mind.

A Valium sinks down (pre-script-ion of sorts) an esophagus.
...
go

Office wall is creme. Lamp adjacent red. A sultry leg snakes out its vibrant light to stomp on the desk (ever-subservient secretary [bubbling inside for {attention<!>}]). Ceramic steadiness supports the frilled shade, reminisce A Christmas Story (yes, that same [one{!}]). "SAN DIEGO" screams the blue pencil cup to my right in some block font, the A wobbling on a stunted left line, eager to tear off its perch and dive into the cursive "California" maw beneath. Scissor handles are a flaking black-grey reflecting consistent use, rigorous wear, a stalwart aesthetic devotion compromised by inevitable decomposition. Floor slithers about, straight lines distorted, weaved in patterns defying comprehension. cubist portrait in upper-left corner grins at me, blessed box-shapes cracking at the seams as my eyes water and the pill keeps kicking around my skull

boom
boom 
boom 
boom
boom
boom
boom
boom
boom
-box tenacity
throbbing, pulsing, growing, livid 

fifty million arm divisions

only the face

 holds weight, the coca sort-

blow(!) all over. 



When I go look at my blog, I always note the little things. The predetermined background for this expressionist canvas contains a diminutive, 1950s-chic TV screen embedded in the center of the room, a prison to white noise, encompassed by a pane of wooden reality. In a sense(!), it's fitting that such an article sits in what amounts to my personal lounge, my abode of reasoning.

Gods are always watching. 
KO is no exception.

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