Missing his chance our hero sat by his typewriter reflecting. His proudest works is this, a song he came up with after hurting an old blues mans career and eyes. Other than the sight since his death Richard Channing had not heard this tune again. He believes that most people heard this song through Cats – the Musical. It is the same tone the others can believe is a psalm for death. It starts out in a droning wail that is drowned in a run of pure adrenaline and fear. The causing of pain to others that need pain to feel good themselves. Our hero was certain it was a death march.
A Blessing Requested should be written here, I would guide you bloggers to an epic poem that is a few pages back. I would rather not repost it here. I have many other lyrics to this song… I’m not sure where it actually came from. I think it may be from a poltergeist I lived with briefly in Nelson. I could have sworn that man killed me dressed as my best friend. So a source lit in darkness and pain and the light a man claiming he knew Mensa sorts took me from that foggy house near the lake. The checkerboard floor in the parlor and the bushes blocking his tree seemed to be the thoughts that he found in me which upset him. So the saints stood in line on checkerboard floor. Or it may be one of the tones of which one can read Poe’s “The Raven.”
I’m not sure about this poem but I asked a number of people if I was dead and they only worried. My doctor, by the way, gave me a clean bill of health. Maybe there are many blessings in the church of schizophrenia. I have a tendency to reach into my brain or the air around it to grab music and books that I wrote on a typewriter that nobody seems to know about but me. That is an interesting wonder that I have encountered.
Sure, I fought an ornery spirit of two that night, but I spell cast and banished him later that week. And only I saw these characters. This experience wrote four albums that by and by have been enjoyed by lots of people. This makes me think that the book should be about how psychiatric medicine is a blessing and curse quite in the way the symptoms of mental illness can be.
Everything seems to have an equal and opposite reaction in physics. Maybe bacteria are our overlords. These creatures could wipe us out and in the end it is more productive to their civilization to keep us alive. Is this a conscious choice?
I’m just trying to keep people paranoid.