The Naked Lunch

The “…” follower is gone.

Your regular viewer in Israel has not been viewing since last week.

MJ still hasn’t called, and the Israeli viewer is gone.

MJ looks to be gone.

You shouldn’t have ranted at Chief. The lynchpin of hope looks to be gone.

You don’t shower or shave.

Caterpillar is lying. Running off by herself. Some new boy.

Caterpillar doesn’t want to spend summer in Mexico with us.

Israel is opening for tourists, but deportees can’t enter without visas.

The consulate doesn’t answer e-mails or phone calls.

X-23 says she will be Mr. Wolf, but she hasn’t yet.

Chief says he won’t be Mr. Wolf.

You don’t clean the apartment.

You’re wasting away in Belgrade.

After two months in Belgrade, it’s still just you and Bucky.

You hardly see Bucky.

MJ Cool tried to tempt you. One of twenty temptresses lately.

You tried to save MJ Cool, and she disappeared.

You don’t know what to do about Ena.

Ena needs a nickname.

The maestro treats you like shit because you don’t pay attention to him.

You abandon the maestro, and he’s hurt.

Nobody sees you, knows you, or understands you.

You cannot talk to anyone you know, understand, see, or love.

You cannot go to the nation you love.

You cannot convert in Israel.

To convert abroad, you have to live in a place for a year.

You cannot convert in Belgrade. You have to leave.

You cannot get to Israel by marrying a wife you don’t know or love.

You’re too strange for a wife anyway.

You can’t look for a wife without giving up on MJ.

MJ hasn’t called. You can’t give up on MJ.

Caterpillar is jealous of X-23 and MJ. She thinks you hate her. She finds sustenance in boys, isolation, independence, and darkness.

Only X-23 volunteered to be Mr. Wolf.

You love X-23 so much, you’re so damned grateful, you might break barriers and screw up your weird, beautiful thing with her.

MJ kept you in line, but MJ is probably gone.

Caterpillar would fall off a cliff if you lost your bearing with X-23.

You don’t change your clothes.

You got a new follower. A new site. A poem about hope. It fits too much.

You cannot think clearly enough to leave a comment.

Your personality has been pitted perfectly against itself.

The world around you has been pitted perfectly against you.

You thought about wanting to die, but became afraid.

You wonder why you were afraid of death. That’s not supposed to happen.

You prayed an angry prayer and cried.

The absolute perfection of the impossibility of your situation proves that God exists, but it says God is not making a way. Anywhere. On any level.

You wonder if you can think clearly enough to get your plane ticket out of here.

You wonder where you would go.

You could convert with Jews in California, New York, or Florida.

Your nephew is in movies and making scripts in New York.

You want to make scripts out of your novel and story ideas.

California is close to X-23 and Caterpillar and one of your rabbis.

Your dad is in Florida. He thinks you’re depressed and need to come to him to watch Fox News with him.

Your dad has been wrong about that, but you’re having a depressive episode today. Today he is correct. Florida sounds nice.

They wear masks and use vaccine passports in California and New York, but not in Florida.

Caterpillar needs you, but doesn’t want you to help her.

You’re writing sentences in the style of a William S. Burroughs novel.

The devil has done his job today.

If your flesh were under control, if your animal soul were in line, this wouldn’t be a problem.

Watch some TV, and see if God answers your prayer tomorrow.


  1. I’m truly intrigued by your writing style and your poem was interesting. How are you doing today? Has your depressive episode passed? I’ve had a lot of these lately and have found that writing and listening to music helps.

    1. So I have PTSD. For the last several years I would say I have a few of these a year. They were more or less completely controlled when I was on meds. I haven’t been on meds the last couple of years, though I probably should be. I avoid it because some strange things have happened to me to make my psychological problems, the rare episode, a bit of instability, are generally minor enough not to impede functioning and prevent a good life, and I have some anxiety that being too normal could actually inhibit some of the benefits that I have from being slightly insane.

      This kind of thinking isn’t unique to me. There are those that think a lot of creativity is linked to instability. A lot of people say this about Jaco Pastorius, the best bassist for Earth, Wind, and Fire and inventor of the fretless bass. He’s something of a cult figure, and you can read about his life and problems.

      So on my site there is a novel that describes a mixture of PTSD collapse, drug experience, and spiritual experience that left me a bit scarred in a way, but I think in some ways enlightened. It’s called “La chica electroquímica” and is on the website on the right. I try to capture a bit of the enlightenment dimension following the novel with the posts “The Superhero, the Butterfly, the Prophet, and the Witch” as well as “Bucharest” and “Reading Life Through Disney, Spotify, and Justice League.” It’s more reading than anyone would want to do, but if you really want to know what it’s like to be insane, but have an insanity that you really don’t want to get rid of, those pieces would probably explain it.

      So I am in a transitional period that can be overwhelming, and have had a few rough days lately. I’m fairly normal a lot of the time, though. The one from the poem was only a day. Prayer works for me for getting out of that sort of thing rather quickly.

      As for the poem itself, I dunno, I think the job is to capture what others may feel but can’t write about, or they’re too shy to write about. I actually wrote that poem on the tail end of the episode itself, thinking writing about a depressive episode in the middle of a depressive episode would yield some unique fruit. It sort of wrote itself. I notice that it is a good display about how the mind collapses in on itself to contradictory thought during episodes like that. “Can’t do this with that girl because of this other girl, can’t feel this way about this person because of that person, can’t go here because of this girl, can’t feel that because of this place, etc.” It was a whole bunch of “can’t this because that.” I thought it captured that sort of mental implosion rather well.

      But to be frank, I am actually not all that depressed all that much. If anything, I get bouts of mild anxiety that can be annoying, but also spur creativity.

      There is a whole spiritual dimension to all of this as well. I’m on a trip to Israel that has gone shipwreck, and I am about to head back to my home in the USA for anywhere from a couple of months to the better part of a year. And it’s all very spiritual, related to service to God. Oh…and there is a neurotic obsession with some Dutch Israeli people in there too…but that aspect of it is just too freaking hard to explain. You have to read the novel for that part. But that obsession is resolving right now.

      Now did you expect such an autobiographical reply?

      Feel free to comment on any of my stuff. I like the chance to explain some of it, or just talk about what all went into making it. If you’re interested. If you just want to talk in general, my contact information is on my site. I am highly mobile and have three telephones, so I prefer the Telegram chat messaging app. The three telephones thing really jacks me up, and it’s one of very few apps that do everything I need.

      I see that your site is new and hope to encourage you with your stuff. My daughter is a writer too. A brilliant one. She is majoring in psychology, though. I have tried to influence her to switch to majoring in English or another language a number of times. She speaks German, but never really got into it. But her talent with English is unmistakable. I see you’re an English major. I think that’s cool.

      I bet you didn’t expect such a volume for a comment. So I’ll check your stuff, give some likes, make comments here and there. Again, I always love to talk about my stuff in comments, and who doesn’t like to talk about themselves? And if you want to reach out in any other way, my contact information is on my website. You won’t be rebuffed.

      Your poem about hope really intersected a lot with what I have going on, and your depression poem was all too familiar. You’re good. So glad to have you around.

Leave a Reply