Catch Up & Psychosis

I've not been in here much. Too many demons and assorted other issues.

I get right in the middle of it only to wonder what the hell I'm doing. Do I even know? Sometimes, I have this sneaking suspicion that I do. That's generally when I switch or something.

Chicago is ... I like it, yes. I hate the drive and I wonder when I will ever feel "at home" in a city again. But that's it, really. I don't yet feel at home here. It's closer, I guess, than Nashville ever got. Except Nashville was familiar. Like that old dank tunnel in which I spent so many mad years, I knew it well. What to expect. Or, more on point, what not to expect.

I am beginning to wonder if certain things about me will ever be. Will certain things ever come to pass? Will I ever feel at home anywhere?

I fell, recently, into that expected psychosis. It was later in coming than I thought it would be but much more ... powerful than I'd expected. Each time they come, now, they are so very different. The worst part was having to go through the whole thing in front of a crowd. People saw this one. People saw the most obvious episode I've had so far. People I didn't know very well saw me twitch and stutter and shake and ... God. I hated that. Needing but not wanting affirmation. Feeling stretched and pulled and so rarely grounded during the whole of it. Feeling irreparably marked by this damned first impression. Feeling now as if I must constantly say, "this is so not me usually." But it is far more often lately than it is not.

My heart is at once sore and hopeful. Ever the dichotomy, I trudge on. The possibility of love is everywhere. And I stand outside the window of it as if watching the thing I cannot have...

*poof*

Did you know that you can be spurred to inactivity?

I am nearly frozen.

The Judge's house from my balcony.

Double Homicide

So I get home last night 'round 7-ish. All around my block are marked and unmarked cop cars and ambulances. They are everywhere! The place is teeming with 'em.

I get out of the car to speak with the cop that is yellow taping off my alley. He says two people were found murdered in the house right behind me.

The house of a federal judge.

Oy.

Not too much later the detectives show up. What did I see? Was I home today? Nothing and no. Takes my name and is gone.

Then begins the endless buzzer to my building. Reporters wanting to talk. What did I see? Was I home?

It was a madhouse all night long. My room pulsing with the disco beats of red and blue flashes. Cops hollering for this or that.

Today the buzzer continued. I normally answer the buzzer with a nice "yes?" By noon it was "WHAT?!" I did let one crew in, though, to get a shot from my balcony. Channel 7 in Chicago now has scoop shots, thanks to me.

It's tragic. The husband and 89 year old mother of a judge were shot once over the right eye and once in the chest. There is evidence that the husband was forced to carry the mother down the stairs to the basement.

Tragic. And probably linked to the white supremecist group that had a hit out on the judge for a year. She was to be taken out on the anniversary of the beginning of waco.

That was yesterday, incidently.