Avvertenze Finali

  Ci sono alcune persone che non dovrebbero contattarmi, né direttamente, né tramite terzi, né tramite segnali di fumo. Non dovrebbero contattare i miei professionisti (a parte il mio assistente sociale), i miei vicini, i miei amici.

Voglio chiarire con estrema chiarezza. Alcune persone sono deliberatamente sorde. Dovete tutti adeguarvi al programma finché potete. Se devo continuare a girare per la comunità, avvisandovi tramite terzi, la cosa fa davvero una brutta figura. Soprattutto perché ormai almeno una mezza dozzina di professionisti in questa comunità sa tutto. Non solo da quello che ho detto. Ci sono documenti. C'è stata comunicazione tra professionisti. Gli ospedali lo sanno. I centri lo sanno. I medici, gli assistenti sociali, ecc.

Quindi, per chi ha problemi di coscienza, vorrei essere chiaro.

Mio fratello non deve contattarmi, né direttamente né indirettamente. Non parteciperò a eventi familiari. Siete stati così testardi e ostinati che non posso starvi vicino. Farò visita a due di voi alla volta per mantenere un tono civile. Due di voi, io e qualcuno di mia scelta. Sono stanco.

Gli avvocati mi stanno già contattando. Non costringetemi a rispondere.

Lasciate stare i bambini fuori da questa storia. Dite loro solo la verità: li amo. Li tengo nel cuore e nella mente. Non mentite loro su di me. Lasciateli fuori. Sono bravi ragazzi. Lasciateli credere alla verità: che tengo a loro. Non siate creativi. È dannoso per il loro benessere.

Posso essere brutto se necessario. Non volete costringermi a farlo. Nessun contatto non necessario. Avete il numero del mio assistente sociale.

Non rendete la situazione brutta. Imparate a tenere le vostre dannate trappole chiuse, fatevi gli affari vostri. Vorrei preservare ciò che resta del cognome. Significa qualcosa per la gente. Ma dato che almeno una mezza dozzina di professionisti conoscono nei dettagli e hanno una lunga esperienza degli eccessi di questa famiglia, forse dovreste darvi una calmata. Molte vite sono state salvate in ospedale. È stato fatto molto di buono. Preserviamolo. Siamo gentili gli uni con gli altri, a distanza. Non siamo cattive persone. Semplicemente non stiamo bene insieme. Abbiamo dei bei ricordi. Preserviamoli. Non illudetevi. La gente lo sa. Non siete così intelligenti. Nemmeno io.

Sto cercando di aiutarvi. Vi siete scavati la fossa da soli. Abbassatevi di qualche gradino. Iniziate a capire la realtà. Attraverso le vostre parole e azioni, moltissime persone si sono rese conto che non avete limiti adeguati. Che state oltrepassando i limiti. Che state facendo del male. Dovete smetterla. Subito, cazzo. Non contattatemi. Posso mandarvi messaggi e scrivervi. Posso leggere i vostri messaggi. Lasciate perdere. Se avete il mio cognome, non avvicinatevi. Siete stati avvertiti. Non costringetemi a sporgere denuncia. Non costringetemi a usare termini altisonanti come indebita influenza, condotta inappropriata, molestie o coercizione... cose del genere. Metterebbe in cattiva luce la famiglia. Voglio ricordare le cose belle di questa famiglia. Voglio preservarle. Permettetemi di farlo andandomene a quel paese.

È finita. Me ne vado. Mi sono ritirato dalla mia famiglia. Siete tutti in vacanza permanente. PERMANENTE. Capite l'inglese, vero? Parlate spagnolo? Non preoccupatevi, ripubblicherò in italiano. Voglio solo che la smettiate di provarci. Mi state logorando. State logorando questo Stato. Loro ce l'hanno con voi. Molti me l'hanno detto esattamente. Sorrideranno e vi parleranno eppure penseranno esattamente questo. Non illudetevi come ho fatto io. Possiamo ancora amare le cose belle l'uno dell'altro senza stare insieme o farci del male.

Dreams

A few days after I got out of the hospital where people were verbally attacking my counselor, I had me a dream.

I picked me up the phone.

"Yes? McClean? It's Ashes and Dust, remember me? Oh, you know, runnin' around. Say, I have a technician that threatened my counselor. Would you have a room available? The Mood Disorders and Psychotic Suite, please. A year? Oh no, this one's not that strong. Let's say three weeks. Yes. Crappiest food in the house. You know the drill. You can put her in the room next to Prichards and my brother. All the happy pills she wants. Hold the benzos. Every now and then, would you open the unit door so she can see the outside? Give her a chance to run. Not too far. Allow her to flood the bathtub, if you would. I'd appreciate if you could keep an extra room available, in case any other family members or health care professionals need an ethics refresher... forgettin thier boundaries, that kinda thing. I might have a moment of conscience. Y'all taught me well. You know, on how to destroy people. By the way, Prichards wrote, said he's lost weight. Could you double his Clozaril? Oh, no, none for me thanks. Say hello to Conner for me. I know he'll take good care of my people... what's left of them."

I get frustrated with people who threaten other people or attempt to force medicate them. I get frustrated when professionals sabotage others or endanger the community. It's happened a time or two. I have a few hangups. I hope they have all taken the time to reflect upon thier actions and rethink thier lives. I'd hate to have to sue someone.  It's nasty business. I'd hate to have to speak to the Governor again. Especially about family members. But I can if someone forces me to. Rather easily, it seems. I'd rather prefer to let the governor focus on the good people of this state, not the dumbshits who can't keep thier traps shut and think they're too good for a hard lesson. Those dumb shits better let me hear them so much as whisper. Bad idea, dumb shits. Bad idea.

The School Bus

Middle of August... mid 1990s... Gray sky... a slow gust of wind carrying a cloud of leaves... they rise and dance and run away...

He looked up again and saw a flight of birds cutting the sky. He did not want to go. He did not want to stay. It was just past 7 A.M. He shifted his feet, looking up and down the road waiting for the vessel that would bring him down the street and towards the new place of learning.

See, he had wanted to go to the local school. Just a mile away. It wasn't up to him. He remembered what had happened at the place before. He remembered just how dark it had become. He had played with fire before. The anger was catching up. As a child, he didn't think it could be so complicated. That was supposed to come later. There was a lot to prove. 

Fire was a release. Oh he liked to see it burn. The light brought him comfort. The warmth was so soothing. Sometimes, he would get with friends and they would steal some liquor. Never really thought to drink it. But boy did it burn. He liked to go down by the little creek in the woods... see what he could burn.

He heard the beast coming. The diesel engine roared and the loud whine of the brakes cried out when the beast would turn. Shuddered to a stop right there with a hydraulic burst as the doors came open, engine rattling away.

The old place of learning had many memories. It had stood down on that state road, back behind the fast food and right across from the old mall. They had renamed it after integration. In the scramble to rearrange the education system, a black high school had been rechristened and converted to a middle school. It had stood down in Nickeltown. Off state highway 291. Pleasantburg Drive. 

The city had been built around that river. All those years ago, back before the Revolution, it had been born as a summer retreat for the folks up from the port of Charleston. You see, South Carolina started in a union with North Carolina, both states named after one of the King Charles. Charleston was founded as Charles Town, the first major city and remains to this day the largest (by most measures). It gets rather hot, and the settlers were prone to sickness from the swampy water and the storms. So they picked up, traveled Northwest, across the midlands (where at that time there was mostly swampy lands, forests and some fields), straight up into the foothills. There, in the Cherokee hunting grounds they found that river. Not a particularly large one. They took to building some mills. A main street. They build this street called Church Street. Deadended into a Church. Eventually some carriage factories and some more mills. The cotton from the lower parts of the state could be made into textiles, and the city boomed on that industry eventually. But initially the mills were mostly for grinding grain. By the 1990s it was the 3rd largest city in the state and had served as state capital for about a month when the Union burned Columbia. Charleston had ceased being the state capital long ago. 

They had called it Pleasantburg. Hence the road name. Where the new name came from was... well, see it had been a resort of bits, and very forested and natural. Very Green. Then roundabout the Revolution, the Swamp Fox did the country justice, so they decided that he was the inspiration, though they dropped the extra e and put up a statue right on Main. The textile mills disappeared in the 70s. Downtown was boarded up. It became dangerous. So they decided they needed a change. The economy diversified, and downtown was remade. In the 90s it became safe and popular. 

So Nickeltown had a school. Right near the old city dump, which closed sometime in the 70s. It had a concrete courtyard in the front. The High School had featured a Swimming pool, which had been left to nature and become a green pond. But he could remember that concrete courtyard oh so well. Not the safest place in the world. The bomb threats, people throwing things at others, the fights, gang type behavior. He had been compelled to defend himself physically a time or two. By the time he left, he had been gone in his mind so far away that it's amazing anything came out at all. 

That was when he met the hospital. Seemed a safe place at the time. They said he had the depression. They say he couldn't think so clear. Yet by the time he left that school he was thinking of the end. The darkness of the mind was powerful, and he was in the grip. Took to writing dark things.

Under the overpass and by the river... past the water treatment plant and up that hill... Across the state road... Past Augusta... by the furniture store and down into the neighborhood by the interstate... then the last turn taking it up that hill by the woods, turning right into the big lot. 

Interesting place. walking from that lot into the school, if you turned to the right and went into those woods, you could find a grave or two. The school seemed like a fortress. So he built himself up strong to survive. 

Public Service Announcement

Thank you for tuning into DarknessUntilDawn...

I'd like to give a message from our usual Sponsors... the CDC, SCDHEC, ETC...

Do not try this at home. After reading this message, click on "Personal Thoughts", "Medical", "Musical Diagnoses" and read the problem list. I literally took it right off a discharge summary. 

If you are a patient, think about how carefully you take your medication, and how sick you want to be...

If you have the power to prescribe... think about how sick you want your patients to be. Keep in mind those DEA numbers on your pads. They are there for a reason.

If you are a health care professional... Keep HIPPA in mind when you work. Keep your patients' well-being in mind. Don't screw around with other professionals. Maintain independence.

I've been thinking about South Carolina a lot. How it was. How it's changing. This is why I'd like people to tune into Poetry and "Carolina Drugs". Because I don't want South Carolina to be that way. I want a clean and calm state. One in which drug use is just something that is not actually real. Where pills are hard to find. Where it is just a story. This should be a place where sirens are uncommon. A place with trees and sunshine. The Palmetto state.