02/06/01

I suppose I could have brought up the obsession I had about the secret room in Porch Rot’s house with Swami Hard Salami when I went to see him today, but I kept it to myself. I can accept needing to be on medication to fight my depression--- especially given that my probation officer has ordered me to comply with depression treatment under penalty of jail--- but there’s just no way in hell I’ll ever accept that I’m delusional. What I have, I joke to myself, is embellishment disorder. They’re just stories that crop up in my mind. Sometimes they turn out like shows you’d see on TV or at the movies. I know they’re not real, but they just play on, and they’re actually pretty entertaining most of the time.

I guess Swami will eventually put out the verdict on me, but I’ll be damned if I do anything to make it easy for him to get to that point. He just seems to be fucking around half the time anyway. I just keep thinking why be straight up with this fucked up fucker?

Delusions don’t seem to really exist as they’re defined except in the mind of an outside observer. Seems to me that truly delusional people never seem to really know to use that word to apply to themselves. That’s not to say you still can’t develop an anxiety disorder worrying your life has been one big delusion. That’s probably more where I’m at.

Speaking of anxiety creation, Swami tells me, living out in that trailer in the wilderness, it may only be a matter of time before you turn into the Unabomber.

Unabomber? Are you kidding me? Fucked up fucker!

You know I hate when people do that Unabomber shit to me---one of Percy’s geek friends at the Super Bowl party all but said the same thing to me.

Do you know what Ted Kaczynski’s IQ is? Swami asks me.

167, I reply. Entered Harvard at age 16. Subjected to cruel, CIA-sponsored psychological experiments. Became a mathematics professor at Berkeley while still in his 20‘s. Quit. Moved into a shack in Montana. Started setting off bombs everywhere. Wrote a manifesto critical of industrial society. . .

Swami just sat there quietly looking at me like I was nuts.

Shit, why did I just do that?

Good fucking gracious.