On My Brief and Last Manic Episode

It was only this past week. I had dreams about Maria again, and Cat spoke to me through some diabolical means. You would only believe the dreams if you knew me (and because they are merely dreams). I was going to find two witnesses to stand before me, (Revelation 11 style) impregnate a woman (chapter thirteen, for the interested reader) I hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years. We would name our Son Joshua. Thank God that I’m older now. Thank him that my knees can’t handle training to be God on earth, like I’m Batman on some unheard of steroids. I had to go to work in this frame of mind, and, when I was putting away a bag of chips on a shelf, I thought, “something is amiss.” So I buried my tears in the hr’s office, who had a bipolar brother, and was endowed with natural empathy anyway. Today I got through the Damoclean downswing. slept all day and spent some time with my daughter tonight. Right now I listen to Richter and experiment. It sounds like Bukowski to me, only not as clever or cool or polished. But that’s Bukowski’s voice coming at me, being critical of someone not Bukowski. Cat is the girl I keep writing about on this page. Found out through Twiter she was a Satanist. Maybe that was part of the mania’s onset. Anyway, maybe she’ll meet Chuck one day. She can tell him (through our ESP) that I was fond of them both.