off meds, meds off

andy p, lost in vegas —

i woke up to choke up! — and i did!

i wonder if any of you have had the following thought, which i have endured: in 2011, i made the decision to go off my meds (at the time: depakote, zyprexa, etc) and after about a month of escalation i rather promptly went completely crazy, for five months, four months of which were inpatient hospitalizations (in “medical huts,” as they are called where i live). my thought has been that the decision to go off my medications was itself a psychotic decision, it was itself a schizoid delusion. i have always known that i needed my meds (esp since my 7 month hospitalization in another “drug den,” as they were called, some years prior, where i lived at the time) — so, my point: to disrupt my pharma regime seems to me to have been psychotic, to be delusional. the further step in the thinking of course is that the meds could not possibly have been working if i was in fact delusional enough while taking meds to make the psychotic decision to stop taking these same meds. in the end, the meds weren’t working, such that my decision to abandon the pills was both reasonable and rational (they were not working) and schizoid and delusional (they were necessary). it was necessary that the meds not work.

this reminds me of — in the broad same vicinity of — the fact that i have read that the original paper that proves the placebo effect is in fact not in existence, that the placebo-proof-paper does not in fact exist, that there is no proof of the placebo effect itself. the further step in the thinking of course is that the placebo effect is itself a placebo (there is no original proof of the placebo effect) such that the very absence of proof of the placebo effect is simultaneously the very presence of this proof. there is a placebo effect because there is no placebo effect. off placebo, on placebo, off meds, on meds — goodnight!

on most days, i firmly believe that most of these medications do very little, that the changes in symptoms that folks endure and enjoy are merely effects of such underlying autonomy of the illness. the temporal coincidence of taking a med and finding relief is just that — coincidence — and that correlation is a far town away from causation. but then i also commit to the apparent fact that lithium keeps a lid on my spinach, and if that is the case, then there must be something to drugs, meds, science, brain, neurons, synapses, and the like — even if all of these words are mere metaphors for a mise-en-scene and mise-en-abyme which we cannot finally fathom, at least in the early fall of 2014.

last night i went to a gay club, i go about once a month, though sometimes more frequently, sometimes less, last night i accidentally forgot my stash of haldol for my pocket and became concerned that i might dance and freak with the boys, lose my mind, take off my pants, reveal my lucky, and find myself staring into the gorgeous eyes of an emt who, even with such experience, found himself utterly charmed by my delusional madness. in the end, i think that if i had danced and freaked with the boys, lost my mind, taken off my pants, and revealed my lucky — all would have been considered good and liberated in the dark and dirty context of my potential delusion.

as it turned out, i was again, even at 37, the best dancer on the floor, they must make room, pay heed, watch attentively, and demurely prostrate themselves to what can only be referred to as: the better. no one lashed out at me last night, trespassed my space, jammed their beer’d tongue down my throat, closed their eyes, and imagined they knew me — my alienation was but a relief and although i have gained about 6 lbs from personal training (“lean muscle,” they call it) i wanted nothing to do with these fetching heathens and their bitter needs. arrived at 11, left at 12:30, emails to students at 2, hit the pillow at 2:30, and now curling up by the sand floors of this mild-mannered man’s “outpatient teepee,” ready to vacuum, if requested, but unable to make the meal due to my enlarged pinky.

if there were a non-violent occupational position open in isis — i would consider joining. i find america disturbing. it is no wonder that 24% of her citizens suffer some form of madness. i was even disappointed to learn that tom brokaw’s cancer treatments are coming along quite nicely. he does have a splendid voice though.

i still feel depressed and bitter, i have decided to apply for new positions at other institutions over the fall, if anything i need a change of scene and a bigger office. i want graduate students. i want a better decorated cabin for my homo funk.

until then, your loyal order of the strumpet, casey at the bat and with the pink bat

banging andy