madness

Madness is to think of too many things in succession too fast, or of one thing too exclusively. - VOLTAIRE (1694-1778)

it's so challenging to be in the throes of a chemical imbalance and feel in balance. no matter what is happening on the outside, what goes on inside can easily be equated with hell. there is no real rhyme or reason for the ebb and flow that happens, but it does. when the darker side, the depressed side- i suppose the flow- it is the hardest.

i was having a conversation with a friend yesterday about this very thing and she pointed out that of all the people she knew with bi-polar disorder, she never heard one of them complain about the mania aspect. they all loved that piece. tis true for my experience with bi-polars as well. it seems that when they are "in their cups",  at high tide and filled with inspiration, it is a difficult feeling to beat. everything feels so connected then and one feels almost invincible.

but when the tide starts going back out it is a much different story. waves of mistrust and self doubt flood the brain and confusion about what to think and how to believe. it seems such a long distance from the former that one can almost not remember ever experiencing that.

this is an ongoing process. sometimes, so busy with life, this recurring revolution is hardly noticeable, but sometimes it is so evident that nothing else can be seen. how does one not drift into madness? how does one stay grounded? it is said that medication softens the process, but does not remove it. it is a neverending story that may always have new twists and turns.

today's sound choice is patti smith's cover of the nirvana classic "smells like teen spirit"




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prognosis negative

Huntington's disease, also known as Huntington disease, Huntington's chorea, chorea major, sometimes abbreviated as HD, is a neurodegenerative genetic disorder that is the most common genetic cause of repetitive abnormal movements called chorea.

from wikipedia

today it was revealed that someone i know is leaving their career because they have been diagnosed with hd. there is very little i can actually say about the sheer incredulity that has shrouded my head and as well as the rest of our circle.

i have some experience with terminal diagnoses and yet the remain an enigma. there is not a concrete way that i am aware of to breathe in the toxic shock and shame that the words "you have ..... and the prognosis is negative"

i feel for my friend. i am at a loss for words. i cannot begin to understand how another with transmute this truth. but i am reminded of my helplessness and my own limits. and i more easily turn to prayer.

and there is more relevance to the phrase "one day at a time"

Helpless, helpless, helpless
Baby can you hear me now?
The chains are locked
and tied across the door,
Baby, sing with me somehow.

i just love the version of today's sound choice... patti smith's helpless

because the night

image credit: declan mccullagh

when i was 16 i ran away from home. well, i didn't really run, but i did. if that makes any sense. i mean, i didn't run although i would have if it was necessary. i couldn't remain living at home sanely. and where i went proved to be no saner, but i was really too proud to say i wasn't smart enough to handle things on my own. and i got myself into some situations that were less than attractive. well, 16 yr old skinny twink who didn't have all his wits about him yet. and certainly wasn't wise to the ways of the world.

there was a drag queen i met who was from chicago and was 2 years older than i. he went by the name danee. and he really took me under his wing after a couple of chance meetings. he was much smarter than i was. and he could hold his liquor a lot better than i could. he lived with a couple of gay guys who actually were a couple - of sorts. they were both doormen at upscale chicago residence highrises. danee amused them and didn't pay rent. they were all heavy partiers and probably alcoholics as i look back.

but at that time, i needed their protection and i needed a place to stay. i didn't care if it was sane or not. i didn't really understand sane anyway.

i'm not sure if i have a point. i was thinking about danee today. she was puerto rican and she used to do a pr accent that had me rolling on the floor. i still mimic her as part of my schtick and i still have people rolling of the floor,too. it's english, but it's english that is almost a different language. it's beautiful and fun and experimental and it opens your mind. it is refreshing to hear my language spoken so differently. same words and not at all and both of those at the same time. anyway, i loved danee like a brother (or sister). and i have a soft spot in my heart for drag queens to this day. in many ways i find them much more brave than most gay men. they say "yes" to pleasure in ways gay men are not able. they kicked ass at stonewall. they broke windows and broke rules. they took beatings and came back for more. they paved the way to freedom for the rest of the sissies. they suffer endless ridicule and endure separatism. and yet they put on a happy face consistently and entertain the troops. and most times they understand secret sadness more deeply and more sensitively than the rest of the glbtq community.

have you hugged a drag queen lately? you might wanna think about it, cuz they could be savin' somebody else's teenage runaway ass this very minute.

my stats shot through the roof this last couple of weeks because i used a photo from google images called "american gay army" for a post back in june, which is being googled like crazy. so i'm getting hundreds of hits per day just because of this photo. and all of it is direct to one of my very favorite posts from a visit to chicago to hear susan kingston speak on her opinion of the current meth situation. a running blog friend read it recently and reminded me why i had felt good about it in the first place- thank you steve -btw