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The Many Moods Of A Room, Or, The Artist’s Den Revisited, Or, A Work In Progress, First Movement

the artists den, art, photography, imagination, poetry, music, composition, research, creativity, Bipolar II, Affective Disorders

Those of you who saw The Artist’s Den, well, you’re in for a treat. Finally! I get to have some fun!

I’ve just begun playing again!
It’s dreadful when you can’t play.
The world can be a terrible place for you.

And when the Imagination demands that it constantly be nourished, then the world is a really dreaded place to be in. It revolts against the Laws of Nature. Filled with artificial structures, as if they can contain us. And yet they do. They do that quite well. But we be keep rebelling, yelling at the faces of its Leaders, never shutting up. Never willing to back-down. Never willing to stop shouting at Stupidity, Hypocrisy, Liars and Thieves, while wondering what a good man may look like. Could we select a sample? From the pool?

But the time has come for me to be where I was always meant to be. Withouts restraints. Totally free. And enjoy this brief journey of ours.

And it’s not like I haven’t tried to check out. Did it three times! Two were major failures. The third – Well they never figured out why I stuck around. But obviously I was boisterous and highly entertaining, of which I have no recollection. I was invited to come back and visit those who had cared for me. The doctor who cared for me was someone I never met but only talked to on the phone. I was as puzzled as he was, and I asked him to explain what happened. What went wrong? Why was I still around! He approached me as he would a five- year old who is being read a bedtime story. Well, he said. Your brain cells went to sleep. They did? Damn, I didn’t know they can do that. That’s awesome! I can’t remember who told me how I behaved there was – the Nurse who invited me to come back and visit? Probably. She had been highly amused apparently. I think I was yelling obscenities a lot. And I have no idea at whom. I was told my father turned red and left because of what I had said. Sorry But I missed it. Wish I could’ve been there.

When I finally came to, they had tied my wrists with cotton ribbons to the bed. I had been moved to a room and had a security guard outside, standing at my door who was a Dyke. I was extremely gentle upon my return to Earth. I stirred and mumbled about my state of Confusion. Where the fuck am I? Why is the room spinning like a Kaleidoscope? Damn. I just saw an equation fly by!

She just looked at me strangely and said:

“I’ve never come across anyone like you.” And her eyes were held in a state where she gazed at the world as a work of perpetual wonder.





Things That Never Made It Into Print

By Things That Never Made It Into Print

Keep it simple ... Radical ... Writer, Artist, Dancer, Musician, Chicago Betty

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