Good morning dear readers, I write this morning feeling kinda sour—Michael inevitably couldn’t keep away from that “Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer” movie on Netflix so I was exposed to many hours of that, and subsequently now have a touch of concern that maybe the cops I have been seeing around here lately are somehow involved in my alley treasure hunting escapades. I don’t feel paranoid, nor grandiose, just wondering if my artistic freedom is being messed with, something that could potentially make me upset. Don’t get me wrong, I have always, always loved the cops, supported them, they helped me when I was totally off my rocker in 2017 and ended up at the airport and approached a kind female police officer who I told I was sick and needed to get to the hospital. She called the squad and they got me to Mt. Carmel East, then eventually to Dublin Springs hospital, which was so much better than this last go around there in November 2022. But I’m sitting here this morning wishing I had never seen this Dahmer movie, wondering if now my writing and art is gonna go in a direction I don’t want it to go.
I need to be free!
I’ve been getting irritated with Michael and I don’t know why. Well, let me take that back, I know why. He is not being respectful of my need to fully heal from this last, err, “experience” that got me hospitalized. He bombards me with his iPad noise, stereo noise and television noise all at once (normally that wouldn’t bother me) and all it makes me want to do is run up to my bedroom and hide in solitary confinement. No, I’m definitely not recovered, and it frustrates me to no end. I can just only hope that if history does indeed repeat itself that I will be completely stabilized by early summer.
Well I just texted with friend Katie and she assured me I’m going to be OK, I’m doing fine, and if I wish to collect dirty items tossed along the alleyways for my art that’s perfectly AOK (though I should probably tell Dr. Levy, and I will). Funny, when I was in that prolific art period in 2004 (or around there), I walked the alleys with a black Glad trash bag, picking up trash which I brought back to the porch—don’t think I used it in any of my pieces, I think Michael threw it out? Speaking of throwing out, whatever happened to that piece I did in acrylic paint of the Seven Deadly Sins with a Masterlock padlock affixed? Who has that one? I know it isn’t here at the house, and I don’t recall having it when I had my art show here that one Trash and Treasures Day community yard sale years ago. So many pieces missing…where are they?
Ah yes, I’m thinking the Puppet Master (lol) got ahold of my loot so I will have to get into a little duel with him (it’s always a man) to win them back (or at least get my fair share of the proceeds). But who, pray tell, is the Puppet Master? There are many suspects, me thinks. I think I’ll ask Fetter, maybe he knows…and note to self: invite Fetter to my art show here in May and afterwards maybe we can watch “Idiocracy!”
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