Murder In Rock & Roll Heaven: A Novel

guitar-graveyard-by-gordon-heaney-4I tried to get this new book of mine published by Amazon’s press but it didn’t work out. That’s okay, though. You can’t win ’em all. I published it on Kindle myself so at least it’s out there. I’m proud of it. It’s my 6th book on Amazon and I’m busy writing my 7th as we speak. Here’s the synopsis of Murder in Rock & Roll Heaven:

Are you sure you want to go to Heaven? No one ever “re-dies” in Heaven; unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened to singer Amy Winehouse. Her death, an unprecedented event in Heaven’s history, has thrown a once docile world into unfortunate chaos. Because of the new uneasy alliance between angels and citizens, a freshly-arrived detective in the rock & roll town has been tasked with investigating the prime suspects, the members of the 27 Club – Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison. To make matters worse, a powerful angel from one of the upper levels of Heaven will soon arrive to make her ten-year inspection, a task that fills the other angels with dread since she has the power to banish anyone of them to the underworld. So, with time running out, the PI and his newly acquired sidekick, both aided by rock legends such as Eddie Cochran, Mama Cass, Kurt Cobain, Karen Carpenter and others, must quickly uncover the mystery that threatens not only to close Heaven’s doors forever, but promises to send a ripple effect through the entire universe that can rip it apart.

My Kindred Spirit: Nikola Tesla

TeslaPortrait1I’d been meaning to write this post for some time but I was busy completing ‘Murder in Rock & Roll Heaven.’ Now that I have a little down time, I figured I’d talk about what I have in common with Brother Tesla. To wit:

1. Same birthday – July 10
2. Same mental health issues – Autism, depression, OCD, sleep-deprived psychosis
3. Same marital status – both single, and same level of sexual activity – asexual
4. Same intense preoccupation with multiple interests. Our difference is I lean towards the arts and he towards electricity although we do cross when it comes to deep interests in inventions (I designed a perpetual machine but haven’t physically realized it. I also designed guitars).
5. Both of us are loners
6. Both of us are highly misunderstood
7. Both of us are visionaries (see my website for a list predictions)
8. Both of us are closer to animals, birds specifically, than other humans
9. Both of us are alcoholics although Tesla stopped as he got older because he wanted to live to see 100.
10. Both of us are immigrants to the US
11. Both interested and practiced in Jain, or Jain-type, philosophy.
12. Both occasionally speak and write in 3rd person.
13. Both have lucid dreams and suffer from bizarre, frightening nightmares

As far as bizarre behaviour is concerned, I really need to keep mine in check. So far, in the past month, I’ve walked naked into a supermarket to shoplift food, break into a church, scaled the ‘no trespassing’ fence at the police station, traipse naked down the street and into public parks, locked my keys in my car, break into a newly-developed apartment complex to try and sleep (I did, for about one hour, couldn’t continue because it was freezing cold outside and their heating system was non-functional), etc. I did spend three days in a crisis center. Of course, that stay was too short to fix me. My therapist now admits that I’m too difficult a client and doesn’t know what to do with me. Both she and my psychiatrist suggest hospitalization. I don’t think that’d do any good because of the constant war raging in my hand – Pre vs Lizard Boy (my logical pre-frontal cortex vs my super emotional, Spider Sense-having, overprotective amygdala).

The week was wrapped up by my one day stay in a local ER where I was given an IV and a bettery of tests, including an abdominal CT scan. I have a small renal cyst. The intense, cramping pain that sent to there in the first place was probably due to eating days-old string cheese I’d forgotten in my trunk.

The Death of Mental Care for Our Most Vulnerable Citizens – the Homeless.

shameNo one has to tell me I’m pretty cynical. I already know that. It’s how my extreme black and white thinking works and it’s something I can’t turn off, no matter how hard I’ve tried. That said, I often “weaken” to play the naive fool. Every so often, I try to give society the benefit of the doubt and seek out care for my homelessness and mental issues. In the end, all I did was illustrate just how incompetent, frustrating, useless, parasitical, insulting, ass-backwards, corrupt, inconsequential and self-serving “carers” were. It’s just a money game. The solution for the homeless mentally ill? Shoot them in the face or lock them away in jail. To wit:

  1. I contact psychologists for help and diagnosis. They say things like, “Sorry, I’m not taking any more clients” or “Sorry, you don’t have the right insurance” or “Sorry, cash only.”
  2. I contact housing alliances. They say things like, “Sorry, you need to be referred from Western State Hospital” or “Sorry, you need to have an active addiction” or “Sorry, your income is way too low for our low cost housing” or “Sorry, the intake coordinator is out. Just leave your name and number and he’ll get back to you as soon as he can” or “Sorry, no vacancies” or “Sorry, you have to put your name on the waiting list which, by the way, is 9 years long” or “Sorry, you have to be 62 years old” or “Sorry, you have to be a veteran” or “Sorry, you have to be a client at Such and Such Clinic, but when you contact Such and Such Clinic, they say sorry, we’re not taking any more clients till the fall.”
  3. I contact hospitals for tests for my mental condition so I can help from the state’s Developmental Disability Association, but they say, “Sorry, your insurance won’t pay for the exam” or “Sorry, our waiting period is about a year due to staff cuts or whatever” or “Sorry, we have no more beds” or “Sorry, you need a referral from one of our allied psychiatrists, and naturally, you then find out their allied psychiatrists aren’t taking on any new clients for a year or don’t take your insurance anyway.”

And they wonder why people give up and just go live on the street or commit crimes just to get in out of the cold. It’s sad, really, especially in a city as prosperous as Seattle. My goodness. The world-renowned Seattle Seahawks live here. The richest corporations (Boeing, Amazon, Starbucks, Microsoft) in the world and their CEO’s live here. We have football and basketball stadiums, concert halls, skyscrapers, the world famous University of Washington, the fastest growing tech sector in the nation and some of the most expensive real estate in the land. And we have the extreme poor and mentally ill living under bridges and in cars. Shame. On. Seattle.

Do I have Borderline Personality Disorder, too?

borderlineMy goodness. I can’t get away from myself. I’ve been professionally diagnosed with acute depression, PTSD, Asperger’s Syndrome and Bipolar Disorder. Today, I was reading about Borderline Personality Disorder. It seems to fit me to a ‘T’, probably more so than Bipolar. Yes, I go from severe depression to extreme elation, but according to what I’ve read about BPD, there is also a wanton and reckless component, and a deep feeling I should be punished and locked away from society – both of which I am a master. So I took a few online tests, none of which, I understand, are definitive proof since only a psychiatrist can determine that.

In any case, in some of the quizzes, I score 100% for BPD as opposed to 85% to 88% for Bipolar. Very interesting. At least the medications, Topamax and Lamictal, for both disorders are the same. I currently take Lamictal. So far, it hasn’t stopped me from breaking into buildings under construction and police stations, or walking around naked in public parks and supermarkets, but I suppose there’s always hope.

I also score high on Avoidance Personality Disorder (AvPD) quizzes, but again, I understand only a psychiatrist can determine that.

I’m Caught In A Time Loop

Microsoft Word - Fibernet.docI can’t sleep unless there’s beer in my gullet. Typically, I’d go to sleep around 9PM, wake up at 11PM, and stare out the windows of the car for hours. When I don’t sleep, or don’t sleep right, my behaviour shows it. I climb over fences, break through windows, steal food from supermarkets, and just create general havoc I end up feeling guilty about later. When I do sleep, I have incredible nightmares that drives me crazy upon waking up. Last night, my nightmare was in two parts, but they were roughly the same things – I was being chased by foxes in the first and cats in the second. Both times, the rabid animals were biting and clawing my hands. Very odd. In the second dream, I kept calling my brother Ronnie to stop the cats. The last time I screamed out his name I woke up because I yelled his name in real life. And so it goes, around and around and around, never ending – a veritable time loop.

Have you ever went to a theatre, paid your $13 for the ticket, $9 for your popcorn, $8 for your drink, then sat in the dark and watched a movie about somebody going mad, and that person up on the screen is you? That’s what my life feels like. I could end this nightmare in two ways – jumping in front of a bus or throwing a brick through a bank’s window and get arrested for attempted burglary. I’d do the latter naked because they’d have to keep me in solitary confinement forever. Sweet.

Here, I will attempt to draw a simile of what living with the trifecta of PTSD, Autism and Bipolar Disorder feels like:

Bipolar – My thoughts are jumbled, all over the place, continually racing. I want to climb naked over a fence to get away from myself.

Autism – I think in extremes and set my mind to accomplishing things no matter how odd they may seem. I actually do climb naked onto that fence, height be damned.

PTSD – That ridiculously high fence I’m climbing, during a freak rain storm no less, just so happens to be wired with 10,000 volts of electricity, but I think, so what? Even better.

600 Pound Gorilla Trapped In My Head

3-days-rwanda-gorilla-safariI recently wrote a letter to my sister telling her that, me being saddled with PTSD, Autism and Bipolar Disorder, is like waking up one morning to find I’ve been locked alone in a house with a 600 pound gorilla. Decisions, decisions, decisions. Does that 600 pound brute want to play or take me apart? Can he be placated or put on ice some kind of way? What can I feed him? Should I keep running from him, hoping he never catches up to me? I could always burn the house down, but that’s like throwing out the baby with the bath water. Anyway, it is what it is. That’s about the best metaphor I can think about mental illness. My troubles, I would say, is not the trifecta of mental illnesses – that would be schizophrenia, Bipolar Disorder and Autism – still, it’s coming pretty close to it. I recently started Lamictal. We’ll see how that does.

I’d spent the weekend, BTW, getting myself together at a Crisis Clinic because I’d locked my car keys in my car, went on a trespassing frenzy, including into a police precinct’s yard, and other things I’m not proud of. I guess I need to get back in control, or else.