Kevin's Watch

My location tag says I live near where a certain band played a show on a certain day, years ago. In fact, at that point, I'd only been to one other concert by one other band, and the second concert put me off, in its own way, to going to others later, until last year anyway.

Why? Well, as far as I'd known, the band in question, Broken Social Scene/BSS, was on hiatus/not on tour anymore. Like their last show had been in 2011 in Brazil IIRC, they'd done one in September that year in Seattle but I hadn't been able to bring myself to go. But now fastforward to last year, early on, I decide, you know, it's been long enough since the disaster, I've gotten over it enough, so I was checking out where Explosions in the Sky or Lifehouse or whoever might or might not be playing, when without warning or preamble, on my Facebook feed one morning, I saw a post from BSS, announcing that on my birthday that year (not how they said it but the day was, indeed, identical) they would be playing in America again: in a city where one of my best friends lived, one who'd helped me write my first novel (he contributed a crucial idea that helped me get all the other ideas into it, that I wanted to), and with whom I'd shared a night of sorrow, watching him cry for hours, crying just because he was hurting so much (his girlfriend had just broken up with him and he was getting ready to move back to his home city), like I was kinda freaked out tbh, I'd woken up seeing bloody tissue paper overflowing from the wastebasket in the bathroom and it turned out this guy was so stressed out his nose was massively bleeding for hours. But he got through it well enough, I guess, ended up with some fly job back in the city.

Which city, again, haha? Chicago.

When I went to see LOTR:ROTK in theaters, it was during the reshowing they did in 2011. On that night, with my friend from Chicago, before the breakup and moveback, I'd gone to see, after racing from the theater where ROTK was playing to the Pacific Science Center, the third Transformers film that was playing there in IMAX form. It was a beautiful coincidence that Chicago was the site of the film's climax, but that fact haunted me for a long time, like, deep down inside I felt like there was something really important about this city, because of my friend I thought at first, and surely to some extent because of him, but also because of the third concert I decided to go to, which was there too.

I had to take a Greyhound and its connecting bus services, from Seattle to the Windy City. That sucked more than I'd expected. I definitely didn't plan well for the trip and was lucky I didn't have to linger in my destination for more than 24 hours. Also I discovered a creepiness in this country I'd never known of, I think. A mass of sin crawling across the land, not like a conspiracy but just a malaise of moral miasma (forgive me). IDK it was horrible, that's about it.

Neither of the concerts I'd gone to before was like this one. There were these metal plates in the field that caught the sound waves coming from the stage, so I finally got that "I feel the music inside me" vibe (literally!). And the music was so impressive beyond my understanding at first, like they were playing songs I had never heard before or didn't remember from the one-off time I might've been exposed to them, and though they didn't play my favorite song, they played one that riveted me, in the end, as much as that one would have then.

Unfortunately or not, and I had not ingested any hallucinogenic substances so that's not the explanation, while wandering Chicago on my way to the park where the concert was scheduled, I'd been reading my first novel, a copy of which I'd brought with me to try to give to the band (since they're in it and so on), and these clouds rolled in, a nice wind set over the city, one guy even walked up to me while I was sitting on a bench and told me that the weather was weird that day, like all the rest of the month up until then there'd been this heat wave going on, but "perfect weather for a concert" now, I was like, cool, thank you God-Bro or Whoever, and then, because in my novel the sudden appearance of the wind in the sky over the city at the end of time, signifies the transition to the apocalypse of the story, well, from the skyline, from the tallest buildings or the ones that stood out or whatever from my vantage, these massive flares or pillars of light cascaded upward, and this Voice chimed to me through that light, and by the time I was in the field in the park before the stage, that Voice and this light coincided and counterpointed to or with each other, it was terrible, the heretofore unknown and amazing song of BSS's focused this fire to its zenith---and after the last song in the set, which had especially terrible significance for me at that point, the light went out in a flash of darkness and the Voice became mordant laughter.

I stood there humiliated as fuck because I'd somehow convinced myself that my friends secretly understood what had been going on with me and the guy I met in the other park, and had decided to somehow fulfill the wish I'd made the first time I'd gone to a BSS concert so many years back---which meant, Dean was gonna show up out of nowhere, to stand with me during the concert, except of course that didn't end up happening. However, the Voice didn't tell me that that would happen. He just said it might, He had nothing to do with that, He was just giving me a chance to give my book to the band, except that didn't happen at all either, once the darkness exploded the pillars of glory apart, the laughing thing watched with me as the band went into a VIP lounge behind the stage, totally inaccessible to normal attendees, including me.

One thing struck me all along, though. Before I'd gone, a creepy, ill-intentioned coworker of mine had accused me of "moral cowardice" for deciding to go this concert. I think he thought I wasn't going to the concert, who knows, but he tried to dissuade me by posting something on FB about the rate of dangerous crime in Chicago. Later, after I went, I'd see posts from more public and reputable sources, to similar or even more extravagant effect, culminating in the new president's warning to the city (or whatever he said relative to Chicago, from the get-go), all centered on this idea that there's this mass violence issue in the place, which might be true for all I know but I swear to God I saw less ambulances or firetrucks about than on an average trip to Seattle, none with their lights on IIRC, and I was wandering around this colossal hospital for a good deal of the night after the concert (I was hella lost trying to get back to the bus depot). But it wasn't just that, like, I hardly saw anyone walking the streets, no one seemed to approach me, maybe I seemed menacing (very possible) but even so, one dude did beg for a mere 25 cents from me, and when I expressed uncertainty about whether I could spare even that at that point (I can't stress too much, how horribly unprepared I was by the very mid-point of the entire adventure), he didn't flip out or say anything mean but just was like, I understand, no problem. The security at the bus depot were a little leery of me, like, I looked halfway to being a homeless dude by then, but again, didn't have any real trouble with anyone. Ever.

The Voice-stuff went away way before I even got back to the bus depot, and wouldn't recur, clearly, for a while. By then, I had reconciled myself to the third concert for the sake of something totally different from what I had planned, though.

Don't take this the wrong way, but have you been tested for schizophrenia?

And, take the L. It's faster and a little more comfortable (if you get one of the newer cars).

I should be tested for it. :/

I don't usually hallucinate like that. And honestly, I barely ate anything on the 48-hour bus ride to Chicago, only had a meager sandwich with some chips at a Subway once in the city, my sleeping schedule was so off from the trip, etc. so even if I only have minor psychiatric issues, I could see the ambient pressure getting to me and triggering this episode. I mean I was really emotionally amped about it anyway, I really thought I'd get to give my book to the band and I really thought my friends had planned out this absurd romantic scenario for me, so for all that I could see my mind fracturing for the day without necessarily being damaged to an extreme otherwise.

OTOH I am also good at rationalization, I fear, and despite the immediate displeasure I felt after the concert, I eventually realized that I could use the song I liked so much from it to finish the film project I'd been working on, while fulfilling a dream of mine, then, to use a song by this band in a movie, even if something that never could be published. So then I was like "oh that's what God really was sending me to the concert for," which is absurd not only on the face of it but I mean I was gonna go to the concert no matter what, and was worked up about it no matter what, so why does my mind always have to add in the God factor haha?

Hallucinations are not always present. I focused more on the lengthy, stream of consciousness discourse. It reminded me a bit of Virginia Woolf.

Delusions of reference are the primary symptom (or w/e) that I've tried to keep track of, usually none too well because it's almost always hard for me to fully persuade myself that I'm deluded.

On a slightly different level, I am (not due to others, necessarily, but I am not going to pretend to be blaming myself in the name of personal enlightenment and responsibility, either) not sure how I would think/feel if my life were more... stable. I have lived in 15 different houses or apartments (and been homeless twice) over the last 8 or 9 years. I held on to a job for about 4 of those, have stayed at my next job all the time since (though I feel like the situation is collapsing again), but it's not like either of these jobs provided me with independent living, I've had to depend on roommates all along, of various motives and character. It was upsetting enough before I had a cat but now whenever I'm struggling like this, I worry about his safety, and my worry intensifies so much and I feel so trapped that I start wishing and praying, and it's just that much easier, then, for me to convince myself of things like, "Oh if I go on this absurd trip to this distant city on behalf of this strange reasoning, things will finally work out and my cat will be safe," even if I'm not safe (I often think of trying to find him a home before my mind melts down).

I can offer some personal experience. I'm not sure how well it translates. I have ADD. I didn't want medication for a long time, because I viewed the ADD as a source of creativity with my mind going in a hundred different directions at once. Once on the medication, I thought in fewer directions, but the loss was less than expected and my creativity didn't suffer. I could grab some of those ideas long enough to actually use them.

The medication isn't a light switch, nor am I a zombie. I am far more productive now than I was before. A doctor will adjust the dosage to find the best balance for the patient's preferred quality of life. The good doctors will, anyway. The idea is to lessen those symptoms that prevent you from having the life you want. And, psychotropics are not a cure; they are a treatment. I still have ADD symptoms, but they are weak enough that I can do my job. (My apartment's a mess, but that's a lesser evil.) The point is, I haven't lost myself to the drug.

As I said, I don't know how well this translates to your situation, but it's something to think about.

Mighara Sovmadhi wrote:Delusions of reference are the primary symptom (or w/e) that I've tried to keep track of, usually none too well because it's almost always hard for me to fully persuade myself that I'm deluded.

On a slightly different level, I am (not due to others, necessarily, but I am not going to pretend to be blaming myself in the name of personal enlightenment and responsibility, either) not sure how I would think/feel if my life were more... stable. I have lived in 15 different houses or apartments (and been homeless twice) over the last 8 or 9 years. I held on to a job for about 4 of those, have stayed at my next job all the time since (though I feel like the situation is collapsing again), but it's not like either of these jobs provided me with independent living, I've had to depend on roommates all along, of various motives and character. It was upsetting enough before I had a cat but now whenever I'm struggling like this, I worry about his safety, and my worry intensifies so much and I feel so trapped that I start wishing and praying, and it's just that much easier, then, for me to convince myself of things like, "Oh if I go on this absurd trip to this distant city on behalf of this strange reasoning, things will finally work out and my cat will be safe," even if I'm not safe (I often think of trying to find him a home before my mind melts down).

This was my life in my late teens and early twenties. Be careful how you land. I was so desperate for stability that I jumped headfirst into a violent, abusive relationship in which guns, guitars, tequila, and stolen merch figured too prominently. Out of the frying pan and into the fire!! It was from this circle of hell that I heard a Voice (telling me to GET OUT TONIGHT OR YOU WILL DIE, a message I obeyed), found Jesus that night and never looked back.

Take care of yourself, Mighara, and your cat.

@Khaliban, thank you for that. I have considered medication before, but unfortunately only known people whose experiences with it were also unfortunate. One might think the alternative just has to be worse---but it's better for me to hear it from someone, that these kinds of things don't necessarily prove just as emotionally disastrous or debilitating as the condition they are meant to treat. I also have been informed that there is a possible free health care option in my area so I have a decent chance of pursuing this potential partial solution.

@dotd...

Ah, creation... Stolen merchandise has not been an aspect of the depravity shared by the depraved among those I've lived with, which surprises me now that I think of it, given all the things they proved willing to do, but... For me, I guess it started when I was 21, and now I'm 30, almost 31, so ten years, hmm... I hope I can stay safe haha. And for sure I don't want to fall prey to an illusion of stability, the only reason I haven't so far is that from the get-go the situations never have seemed stable (or ?)

Stability, in this world, is more or less an illusion. When I think of stability, I think of my grandparents living in the same house with the same jobs for 70 years... yet I know the dark underbelly of that, too.

The best I think we can do is to be faithful to the ones we love, and to what we know is right. I was neither, and my life was chaos. Some of it was, admittedly, joyous adventures as well, but the heartaches got bigger... When my life got on the right track-- that is, I started doing what I knew what was right, did what I could to right the wrongs I had done (which wasn't much), and started making choices that honored my and others' integrity, my life changed. I wouldn't say it was characterized at all by external stability (I live in Jos, for crying out loud) but I could say there is serenity. Not always, and situations can still make me cry, but I can usually sleep at night, and I know who my true friends are.

There are a lot of things in here that I identify with...

Mighara wrote:I'd been reading my first novel, a copy of which I'd brought with me to try to give to the band (since they're in it and so on)

...and this is one of them.
When someone creates some art, or puts together some beautiful words that really bless your life tremendously, you WANT to respond.
At its best, writing a song, or a book, or a good homily... is an act of love.
And the person who created it threw it out there to their community or to the world, and didn't know on whose ears it will fall.

And when you gain something wonderful from those words, you want to let them know how grateful you are...
Though maybe sometimes we are mistaken. Maybe there were a lot of other less-spectacular-looking blessings that were building, building, building towards you gaining some great epiphany for years.
And maybe wonderful music from this group was just the final capstone.
(I think that's how it goes for me.)

I've had hundreds of words worth of conversation in my head of things I want to say to some blogger, or some preacher, thanking them for words they wrote or spoke.
Words that were a total gift to me!
But maybe a lot of my praise would just embarrass the recipient.

I am trying to decide whether to share some of my stories... of times when my urge to connect with people who've poured out such gifts came to the surface and spilled over... and then they just saw my craziness.
I have a few that are quite humiliating to me! (also kind of funny.)