Chelsie's News of the Strange




CHELSIE'S STORY

June of 2006

I went f*cking insane.

I was down in new orleans, chain sawing down dead trees and sifting through debris.  My sleep schedule got f*cked up, I guess due to the round the clock lights of the FEMA camp.That's all it took.

First i couldn't read. Then I couldn't watch movies. I never ate or slept.  The only things I did well were chain smoke, manual labor and entertain.

I thought I was psychic.  I heard voices.  My psychiatrist asked me if I heard the voice of wisdom.

I did.
 
When the lady came to take me to the hospital, it was raining in the middle of a sunny Texan afternoon.  I thought it was raining for me.  I thought I was the messiah.  Sunshine rain is special, you must agree.

For a time, I did nothing but lay in bed, twitch and listen to classical music.  Every now and again, I'd create mediocre art.

I was loaded with drugs. Several times a day I collapsed on the ground and flopped around like a fish out of water, or a cockroach under the influence of RAID.

My coworkers were curious to know what the voices said.  I told them they say motherf*cker a lot. Like when someone took my favorite seat on the bus.  Later, riding back from whatever nature preserve we were chainsawing at, my boss said "motherf*cker" real low.  I had to check around to make sure everyone else heard it. They did.  No one else thought it was funny. later, I threw a chewed up apple at him.  I can do those sorts of things now.

Balance of a new, hyperaware sort has been achieved.  I spend a lot of time riding my bike.  Yesterday, unsolicited, an old man at a bus stop gave me a tin of Beach Cliff fish steaks (in soybean oil with hot green chilis).  In case I get hungry.  But that's just america.

I drive a tiny train meant for the amusement of toddlers and their grandparents.  I wear the appropriate hat. it looks good. When my dad heard I got the job, he started singing, "high on cocaine, drivin' that train, Casey Jones you'd better watch your speed." I'm vigilant.

Right now I'm sitting in my small apartment, wearing my silk kimono, chain smoking and listening to the shirelles. I'm very sensitive to music now and require a constant drip of old country, blues, jazz and a few selective hits from the sixties.
 
July of 2007

My name is Chelsie and I am a Recovering Schizophrenic.  Its been over a year since my hallucinations started...and I finally found a medication that works.  I'm starting a new job (a real job) in a couple of weeks, have made a new friend (not an easy acquisition for a schizophrenic) and am in the negotiations of creating something special with, well, someone special.  I no longer need a constant drip of alcohol, music and the compulsive arrangement and rearrangement of objects (think silverware and cigarette  butts).  things are looking up and I don't miss the chaos whatsoever.  I'll always have the memories to, um, cherish.