Life in Psychoville

My last trip to the psyche ward was the most revealing. Agents of the institution were very concerned about "political speech" but not unduly. They were also very impressed with my ability to influence others and made sure I knew it. Meaning that even though there never was a context for me to get a "shot" for bad-behavior--they give 'em to Aryan commanders--they still wanted me to know that my bad moods were significant. I was to do what was necessary in order for the government to be right about my diagnosis... until I got out. I'm not kidding. Quite a lot happened in the ward this time. There was sex between inmates, smoking of cigarettes, and planning for life on the outside--the game. They were the most intelligent addicts I'd ever seen or met and I could see that my prediction, publicly announced before I returned to Buffalo, that the "crazy people" were taking over is true. The healthcare system is overwhelmed because your doctors are s.t.u.p.i.d. I know this for a fact. By the time I was leaving the hospital they were sending logicians and constitutional experts to get my attention. I shrugged. Most of it is meaningless to me, if you must know. I often laugh, in private, about how much energy is expended on behalf of my bpd. I'd informed usg long ago about what I'd do if, however it came to be, usg fucked up on my behalf. However it came to be. It didn't necessarilly fuck up... but aggregationally it did... so things are tense. I certainly know that leaving the U.S. has implications you don't even want to discuss, relevant to your Declaration of Independence (my IQ is above 200), but you should know that it STILL remains a trenchant option.