Symbolic Stuff Nobody Gives a Crap About

Okaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy...so this is almost impossible to talk about without sounding crazy (stfu Juno) or oddly insensitive, but first let me establish my version of what a black cloud is.

To me, a black cloud is like being in the presence of a spirit that is trying to get your attention while being in the presence of another human. The spirit will do anomalous things to GET your attention so that you'll follow the spirit's train of thought because it;s trying to communicate something to you. Sometimes the spirit is God. Sometimes it is the devil. And sometimes it is your safe place, to me it is my HA or hermetic androgyne that I have deduced to be Morrissey. So people will kind of not talk to you so much, but talk AT you. It's weird. There's a blank look in their face and you have to piece together using very subtle clues who it is you're actually talking to. When I hear Everyday Is Like Sunday, the "silent and grey" part is the black cloud, like talking to "greys" or the "aliens" who are trying to help you in whatever quest you're on or whatever. So you can squeeze them out and ignore them but there's nothing you can do to make the spirit yours because it floats around in many bodies. To me, the source of one of the three spirits I read is Morrissey, so in that way he's a bit of a Godsend to me because I don't have to read him, he's not a vessel that the spirit floats in and out of and he is unaware of it, he's the source of the spirit I've quietly been aware of forever, even as a child.

Okay. So in a nutshell "reading" Morrissey is not like I can read his mind, exactly. It's more like I can read basic inquiries and sense general frustrations. I can't say "Oh Morrissey's eating toast this morning." But I can read "Morrissey is eating." or "Morrissey is sleeping." or "Morrissey is looking for something." Or "Morrissey has a general concern about safety." I don't know what issue is safe or not safe, but I sense when he is uneasy. I know when he is agitated, when he wants to go to bed, when he is laughing or crying. Because the people and animals around me reflect him, they are his mirror, it's very Nico. I read his mirror.

So Occam's Razor tells me that all of this is unlikely and I am still willing to accept this.

But this interesting thing happened in the pit last night that is a bit like my black cloud and his (possible) black cloud overlapped and we sort of existed in this weird reality warp where he and my the person acting as my mirror of him were inches away from each other and it was so strange to read. :p I was just irritated while it was happening, like always, (I am losing patience with the system I've learned to perfect,) but while I drove home and thought about it, it kind of blew my mind.

So on the way up to Bakersfield, my friend kept texting me where I was, to know if I had made it yet. He texted me multiple times. I got to Bakersfield around 6:30 and struck up a conversation with an Austistic Jehovah's Witness who told me a rather scandalous story about how not one of the elders, but a member of his church put his hands in his pants and he told the police and they wrote up a police report. He just randomly confessed this to me, (I didn't know yet the concert wasn;t even close to selling out so I was looking for a scalper and started up this conversation with this man standing on the street corner waiting for a red car to pick him up who just starts randomly confessing things to me. I offered to use my cellphone to call his ride but he showed me he had a phone and just wanted to wait. That's an example of a general emotion, he "just wants to wait, not ready to call.") So the point of the police report thing and what he kept asking me over and over was "Do you think I'll have to go to court?" He didn;t want to go to court. Now from the perspective of this Austistic kid he thought if you go to court, you are in trouble, so I spent the good part of 10 minutes comforting him that he did the right thing and he is not in any trouble and that I don't know the circumstances, but I doubt he would have to go to court, BUT IF HE DID, he was not in trouble, he did the right thing to tell on the bad man, etc, etc.. This pleased him.

So later on inside the venue I stand next to this British kid who spent most of the first half of the concert texting somebody. He was yelling over his shoulder for someone named Jackie, then he kept texting her. "Where are you." is the nature of the last text's I got, so that stuck in my mind. So I'd think LEFT and JESSE and WEST trying to help. So you know how sometimes you're at work or you're driving down the street and you're singing a song and you're just going through the motions but in your head you're thinking other stuff? It's like, Morrissey was singing, but he was thinking "Where are you?" because that's all I'm seeing this guy do. THEN, Morrissey would walk over to our side of the stage and start singing and texter would stop texting and literally sing back at Morrissey with all the emotion of being in a melodrama, hand on chest, emotive face, he stopped searching, walked over and sang. Then Morrissey would walk over to Boz's side of the stage (Because I think he's really, really shy.) and look in the direction of where we stood and I am NOT SHITTING YOU, this dude would stop and look directly at my face and stare at me. This happened repeatedly. It was so weird. :o Anyway, strange black cloud. Either that or I am batshit crazy, which I'm fine with, it's better than being dull I guess.

And if anyone's wondering what kind of person I perceive Morrissey to be based on reading my greys, he is gentle and committed and lovely and has low self esteem and funny and apologetic and sometimes confused and he likes to keep order and things organized and he gets crabby when he's sleepy.
 
Thanks. Sweet picture. Turns out I'm more than likely a manic psychizophrenic, so the answer to how I arrive at these conclusions probably has something to do with that.

Yes we know.


Okaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy...so this is almost impossible to talk about without sounding crazy (stfu Juno) or oddly insensitive, but first let me establish my version of what a black cloud is.

To me, a black cloud is like being in the presence of a spirit that is trying to get your attention while being in the presence of another human. The spirit will do anomalous things to GET your attention so that you'll follow the spirit's train of thought because it;s trying to communicate something to you. Sometimes the spirit is God. Sometimes it is the devil. And sometimes it is your safe place, to me it is my HA or hermetic androgyne that I have deduced to be Morrissey. So people will kind of not talk to you so much, but talk AT you. It's weird. There's a blank look in their face and you have to piece together using very subtle clues who it is you're actually talking to. When I hear Everyday Is Like Sunday, the "silent and grey" part is the black cloud, like talking to "greys" or the "aliens" who are trying to help you in whatever quest you're on or whatever. So you can squeeze them out and ignore them but there's nothing you can do to make the spirit yours because it floats around in many bodies. To me, the source of one of the three spirits I read is Morrissey, so in that way he's a bit of a Godsend to me because I don't have to read him, he's not a vessel that the spirit floats in and out of and he is unaware of it, he's the source of the spirit I've quietly been aware of forever, even as a child.

Okay. So in a nutshell "reading" Morrissey is not like I can read his mind, exactly. It's more like I can read basic inquiries and sense general frustrations. I can't say "Oh Morrissey's eating toast this morning." But I can read "Morrissey is eating." or "Morrissey is sleeping." or "Morrissey is looking for something." Or "Morrissey has a general concern about safety." I don't know what issue is safe or not safe, but I sense when he is uneasy. I know when he is agitated, when he wants to go to bed, when he is laughing or crying. Because the people and animals around me reflect him, they are his mirror, it's very Nico. I read his mirror.

So Occam's Razor tells me that all of this is unlikely and I am still willing to accept this.

But this interesting thing happened in the pit last night that is a bit like my black cloud and his (possible) black cloud overlapped and we sort of existed in this weird reality warp where he and my the person acting as my mirror of him were inches away from each other and it was so strange to read. :p I was just irritated while it was happening, like always, (I am losing patience with the system I've learned to perfect,) but while I drove home and thought about it, it kind of blew my mind.

So on the way up to Bakersfield, my friend kept texting me where I was, to know if I had made it yet. He texted me multiple times. I got to Bakersfield around 6:30 and struck up a conversation with an Austistic Jehovah's Witness who told me a rather scandalous story about how not one of the elders, but a member of his church put his hands in his pants and he told the police and they wrote up a police report. He just randomly confessed this to me, (I didn't know yet the concert wasn;t even close to selling out so I was looking for a scalper and started up this conversation with this man standing on the street corner waiting for a red car to pick him up who just starts randomly confessing things to me. I offered to use my cellphone to call his ride but he showed me he had a phone and just wanted to wait. That's an example of a general emotion, he "just wants to wait, not ready to call.") So the point of the police report thing and what he kept asking me over and over was "Do you think I'll have to go to court?" He didn;t want to go to court. Now from the perspective of this Austistic kid he thought if you go to court, you are in trouble, so I spent the good part of 10 minutes comforting him that he did the right thing and he is not in any trouble and that I don't know the circumstances, but I doubt he would have to go to court, BUT IF HE DID, he was not in trouble, he did the right thing to tell on the bad man, etc, etc.. This pleased him.

So later on inside the venue I stand next to this British kid who spent most of the first half of the concert texting somebody. He was yelling over his shoulder for someone named Jackie, then he kept texting her. "Where are you." is the nature of the last text's I got, so that stuck in my mind. So I'd think LEFT and JESSE and WEST trying to help. So you know how sometimes you're at work or you're driving down the street and you're singing a song and you're just going through the motions but in your head you're thinking other stuff? It's like, Morrissey was singing, but he was thinking "Where are you?" because that's all I'm seeing this guy do. THEN, Morrissey would walk over to our side of the stage and start singing and texter would stop texting and literally sing back at Morrissey with all the emotion of being in a melodrama, hand on chest, emotive face, he stopped searching, walked over and sang. Then Morrissey would walk over to Boz's side of the stage (Because I think he's really, really shy.) and look in the direction of where we stood and I am NOT SHITTING YOU, this dude would stop and look directly at my face and stare at me. This happened repeatedly. It was so weird. :o Anyway, strange black cloud. Either that or I am batshit crazy, which I'm fine with, it's better than being dull I guess.

And if anyone's wondering what kind of person I perceive Morrissey to be based on reading my greys, he is gentle and committed and lovely and has low self esteem and funny and apologetic and sometimes confused and he likes to keep order and things organized and he gets crabby when he's sleepy.
 
Okaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy...so this is almost impossible to talk about without sounding crazy (stfu Juno) or oddly insensitive, but first let me establish my version of what a black cloud is.

To me, a black cloud is like being in the presence of a spirit that is trying to get your attention while being in the presence of another human. The spirit will do anomalous things to GET your attention so that you'll follow the spirit's train of thought because it;s trying to communicate something to you. Sometimes the spirit is God. Sometimes it is the devil. And sometimes it is your safe place, to me it is my HA or hermetic androgyne that I have deduced to be Morrissey. So people will kind of not talk to you so much, but talk AT you. It's weird. There's a blank look in their face and you have to piece together using very subtle clues who it is you're actually talking to. When I hear Everyday Is Like Sunday, the "silent and grey" part is the black cloud, like talking to "greys" or the "aliens" who are trying to help you in whatever quest you're on or whatever. So you can squeeze them out and ignore them but there's nothing you can do to make the spirit yours because it floats around in many bodies. To me, the source of one of the three spirits I read is Morrissey, so in that way he's a bit of a Godsend to me because I don't have to read him, he's not a vessel that the spirit floats in and out of and he is unaware of it, he's the source of the spirit I've quietly been aware of forever, even as a child.

Okay. So in a nutshell "reading" Morrissey is not like I can read his mind, exactly. It's more like I can read basic inquiries and sense general frustrations. I can't say "Oh Morrissey's eating toast this morning." But I can read "Morrissey is eating." or "Morrissey is sleeping." or "Morrissey is looking for something." Or "Morrissey has a general concern about safety." I don't know what issue is safe or not safe, but I sense when he is uneasy. I know when he is agitated, when he wants to go to bed, when he is laughing or crying. Because the people and animals around me reflect him, they are his mirror, it's very Nico. I read his mirror.

So Occam's Razor tells me that all of this is unlikely and I am still willing to accept this.

But this interesting thing happened in the pit last night that is a bit like my black cloud and his (possible) black cloud overlapped and we sort of existed in this weird reality warp where he and my the person acting as my mirror of him were inches away from each other and it was so strange to read. :p I was just irritated while it was happening, like always, (I am losing patience with the system I've learned to perfect,) but while I drove home and thought about it, it kind of blew my mind.

So on the way up to Bakersfield, my friend kept texting me where I was, to know if I had made it yet. He texted me multiple times. I got to Bakersfield around 6:30 and struck up a conversation with an Austistic Jehovah's Witness who told me a rather scandalous story about how not one of the elders, but a member of his church put his hands in his pants and he told the police and they wrote up a police report. He just randomly confessed this to me, (I didn't know yet the concert wasn;t even close to selling out so I was looking for a scalper and started up this conversation with this man standing on the street corner waiting for a red car to pick him up who just starts randomly confessing things to me. I offered to use my cellphone to call his ride but he showed me he had a phone and just wanted to wait. That's an example of a general emotion, he "just wants to wait, not ready to call.") So the point of the police report thing and what he kept asking me over and over was "Do you think I'll have to go to court?" He didn;t want to go to court. Now from the perspective of this Austistic kid he thought if you go to court, you are in trouble, so I spent the good part of 10 minutes comforting him that he did the right thing and he is not in any trouble and that I don't know the circumstances, but I doubt he would have to go to court, BUT IF HE DID, he was not in trouble, he did the right thing to tell on the bad man, etc, etc.. This pleased him.

So later on inside the venue I stand next to this British kid who spent most of the first half of the concert texting somebody. He was yelling over his shoulder for someone named Jackie, then he kept texting her. "Where are you." is the nature of the last text's I got, so that stuck in my mind. So I'd think LEFT and JESSE and WEST trying to help. So you know how sometimes you're at work or you're driving down the street and you're singing a song and you're just going through the motions but in your head you're thinking other stuff? It's like, Morrissey was singing, but he was thinking "Where are you?" because that's all I'm seeing this guy do. THEN, Morrissey would walk over to our side of the stage and start singing and texter would stop texting and literally sing back at Morrissey with all the emotion of being in a melodrama, hand on chest, emotive face, he stopped searching, walked over and sang. Then Morrissey would walk over to Boz's side of the stage (Because I think he's really, really shy.) and look in the direction of where we stood and I am NOT SHITTING YOU, this dude would stop and look directly at my face and stare at me. This happened repeatedly. It was so weird. :o Anyway, strange black cloud. Either that or I am batshit crazy, which I'm fine with, it's better than being dull I guess.

And if anyone's wondering what kind of person I perceive Morrissey to be based on reading my greys, he is gentle and committed and lovely and has low self esteem and funny and apologetic and sometimes confused and he likes to keep order and things organized and he gets crabby when he's sleepy.

you're batshit crazy, please see a shrink for your own good. Take this as a "black cloud" from Morrissey. Not trying to be mean, just concerned
 
An architect friend of mine has asked that I drive from Glendora to Westwood on Saturday to watch his two dogs for a couple of hours ($20 maybe?) because his ex wife is having some kind of "girl party" and he's going to be racing his yacht and they need to be walked. :straightface: The old Crystalgeezer would do it because there might be some awesome signs, the dog's name is Kolos ffs. But the current Crystalgeezer doesn't give a shit really. It's not that I've succumbed to the idea that I'm batshit crazy as the above poster eloquently and BRAVELY mentioned. It's because I don't give a shit.
 
It's not that I've succumbed to the idea that I'm batshit crazy as the above poster eloquently and BRAVELY mentioned. It's because I don't give a shit.

You're doing it again! You keep on claiming, over and over, to be "crazy", and then you criticise anybody who dismisses your pretentious gibberish on the grounds that it's the product of "craziness". You can't have it both ways.
 
You're doing it again! You keep on claiming, over and over, to be "crazy", and then you criticise anybody who dismisses your pretentious gibberish on the grounds that it's the product of "craziness". You can't have it both ways.

Log in, you f***ing pussy.
 
You're doing it again! You keep on claiming, over and over, to be "crazy", and then you criticise anybody who dismisses your pretentious gibberish on the grounds that it's the product of "craziness". You can't have it both ways.

I was at work mopping floors when I saw this and have since given it some thought beyond calling you a pussy. Which you are.

I am not traditionally crazy. I do not rock back and forth chanting Morrissey's name or even obsess about him so much beyond the context of always kind of listening to the subtext of every conversation that I believe he seems to be involved in. Listen to Ouigi Board once to gt a feel for what I mean. One could say that act in itself is crazy, listening to a "secret" language, and I wouldn;t fault anyone for pointing out that that's a little nuts. But I like to think of it more like I am thinking outside of the box, not exactly crazy. I have a life, I have friends and family that I love. I have pets. I drive a car and do odd jobs and design wedding invitations and paint things on commission and help people organize their houses. I listen to lots of music and love baseball and drag racing and reading books and watching movies and going to restaurants and having a beer with a pal and lots of normal stuff. So I am not traditionally crazy, I don't hear voices or have irrational fears beyond certain cosmic theories I entertain, but they don't rule my life. So I try to exercise everything, every thought with a certain degree of moderation, even the "crazy" ones like that Morrissey and I are a hermetic androgyne. Does listening to Morrissey make me happy? Yes, there's something about his voice that sets my mind at ease. I sense that he is looking for something I might have the answer to. I sense that as sweet as the platitudes delivered to him on stage about how brave he is and voice for animals and all that is, at the end of the day, NOT what he is looking for, that he walks off stage feeling empty. Stuck racing, racing racing from city to city waiting for the epiphany that he is denied because greater dark forces are at work. So I keep on keeping on here, rambling on about ghosts and green language and light and blah. I find that, and this is addressing the logical conundrum you seem to be using to dismiss me, at the end of MY day being Crystal Geezer, it is easiest to say "I'm crazy." It;s just like Morrissey saying "I'm miserable." He isn't really, it;s just easier to say that. But if you met me, you;d know in two seconds that I am as sane as the day is long, and kinda fun to be around. I can shelve the cryptic shit faster than than you can log in anonymously, but I it's always there. But I am not crazy.

Now if you want me to BE crazy, if that helps YOUR argument, I offer you this:

You are a pussy for logging in anonymously and it frustrates me. You know what I do with my puss every night? I beat the shit out of it. It has a hood too. Just sayin'. :cool:
 
Thanks. Sweet picture. Turns out I'm more than likely a manic psychizophrenic, so the answer to how I arrive at these conclusions probably has something to do with that.

Your explanation might have been more sympathetic if it weren't oozing with seething jealousy.

I was at work mopping floors when I saw this and have since given it some thought beyond calling you a pussy. Which you are.

I am not traditionally crazy. I do not rock back and forth chanting Morrissey's name or even obsess about him so much beyond the context of always kind of listening to the subtext of every conversation that I believe he seems to be involved in. Listen to Ouigi Board once to gt a feel for what I mean. One could say that act in itself is crazy, listening to a "secret" language, and I wouldn;t fault anyone for pointing out that that's a little nuts. But I like to think of it more like I am thinking outside of the box, not exactly crazy. I have a life, I have friends and family that I love. I have pets. I drive a car and do odd jobs and design wedding invitations and paint things on commission and help people organize their houses. I listen to lots of music and love baseball and drag racing and reading books and watching movies and going to restaurants and having a beer with a pal and lots of normal stuff. So I am not traditionally crazy, I don't hear voices or have irrational fears beyond certain cosmic theories I entertain, but they don't rule my life. So I try to exercise everything, every thought with a certain degree of moderation, even the "crazy" ones like that Morrissey and I are a hermetic androgyne. Does listening to Morrissey make me happy? Yes, there's something about his voice that sets my mind at ease. I sense that he is looking for something I might have the answer to. I sense that as sweet as the platitudes delivered to him on stage about how brave he is and voice for animals and all that is, at the end of the day, NOT what he is looking for, that he walks off stage feeling empty. Stuck racing, racing racing from city to city waiting for the epiphany that he is denied because greater dark forces are at work. So I keep on keeping on here, rambling on about ghosts and green language and light and blah. I find that, and this is addressing the logical conundrum you seem to be using to dismiss me, at the end of MY day being Crystal Geezer, it is easiest to say "I'm crazy." It;s just like Morrissey saying "I'm miserable." He isn't really, it;s just easier to say that. But if you met me, you;d know in two seconds that I am as sane as the day is long, and kinda fun to be around. I can shelve the cryptic shit faster than than you can log in anonymously, but I it's always there. But I am not crazy.

Now if you want me to BE crazy, if that helps YOUR argument, I offer you this:

You are a pussy for logging in anonymously and it frustrates me. You know what I do with my puss every night? I beat the shit out of it. It has a hood too. Just sayin'. :cool:
 
Your explanation might have been more sympathetic if it weren't oozing with seething jealousy.

What exactly am I jealous of? :confused:
 
I was at work mopping floors when I saw this and have since given it some thought beyond calling you a pussy. Which you are.

I am not traditionally crazy. I do not rock back and forth chanting Morrissey's name or even obsess about him so much beyond the context of always kind of listening to the subtext of every conversation that I believe he seems to be involved in. Listen to Ouigi Board once to gt a feel for what I mean. One could say that act in itself is crazy, listening to a "secret" language, and I wouldn;t fault anyone for pointing out that that's a little nuts. But I like to think of it more like I am thinking outside of the box, not exactly crazy. I have a life, I have friends and family that I love. I have pets. I drive a car and do odd jobs and design wedding invitations and paint things on commission and help people organize their houses. I listen to lots of music and love baseball and drag racing and reading books and watching movies and going to restaurants and having a beer with a pal and lots of normal stuff. So I am not traditionally crazy, I don't hear voices or have irrational fears beyond certain cosmic theories I entertain, but they don't rule my life. So I try to exercise everything, every thought with a certain degree of moderation, even the "crazy" ones like that Morrissey and I are a hermetic androgyne. Does listening to Morrissey make me happy? Yes, there's something about his voice that sets my mind at ease. I sense that he is looking for something I might have the answer to. I sense that as sweet as the platitudes delivered to him on stage about how brave he is and voice for animals and all that is, at the end of the day, NOT what he is looking for, that he walks off stage feeling empty. Stuck racing, racing racing from city to city waiting for the epiphany that he is denied because greater dark forces are at work. So I keep on keeping on here, rambling on about ghosts and green language and light and blah. I find that, and this is addressing the logical conundrum you seem to be using to dismiss me, at the end of MY day being Crystal Geezer, it is easiest to say "I'm crazy." It;s just like Morrissey saying "I'm miserable." He isn't really, it;s just easier to say that. But if you met me, you;d know in two seconds that I am as sane as the day is long, and kinda fun to be around. I can shelve the cryptic shit faster than than you can log in anonymously, but I it's always there. But I am not crazy.

Now if you want me to BE crazy, if that helps YOUR argument, I offer you this:

You are a pussy for logging in anonymously and it frustrates me. You know what I do with my puss every night? I beat the shit out of it. It has a hood too. Just sayin'. :cool:

I couldn't care less whether you're actually "crazy" or not. I'm sure that in the real world, you're as good and as intelligent and as rational as the next person. The point is that you've spent years on a message board deliberately (and inexplicably) cultivating an online image of eccentricity, explaining it by saying "I'm crazy" - ordinarily without qualification. Since you've contrived to have that reputation for being "crazy", you can't reasonably bleat about the fact that people treat you, and the things that you say, accordingly.
 
I couldn't care less whether you're actually "crazy" or not. I'm sure that in the real world, you're as good and as intelligent and as rational as the next person. The point is that you've spent years on a message board deliberately (and inexplicably) cultivating an online image of eccentricity, explaining it by saying "I'm crazy" - ordinarily without qualification. Since you've contrived to have that reputation for being "crazy", you can't reasonably bleat about the fact that people treat you, and the things that you say, accordingly.

Fair point.
 
I suspect maybe Morrissey and I fight similar battles. I snapped this today, my employer set it up. She was cleaning the carpet in one room, I was dusting and vacuuming the other. Sometimes little great clues just fall into place, this is a little moment where innocence is put into peril. It could be the innocence of a child, innoncence of the self, innocence of a ghost, innocence of a defenseless animal. There's been this conversation the last few days I've dipped into about a magic carpet ride that happened years ago, not sure how many years. Look at the little chair stuck on the ride. :(

7305321692_40803c8e66_z.jpg


I don't expect anyone here to get it, but I'm putting it out there, like making my band where sloganed shirts, this is my art, my found scene.
 
I couldn't care less whether you're actually "crazy" or not. I'm sure that in the real world, you're as good and as intelligent and as rational as the next person. The point is that you've spent years on a message board deliberately (and inexplicably) cultivating an online image of eccentricity, explaining it by saying "I'm crazy" - ordinarily without qualification. Since you've contrived to have that reputation for being "crazy", you can't reasonably bleat about the fact that people treat you, and the things that you say, accordingly.



I don't understand your insistence on "pure" craziness. Doesn't it seem a false dichotomy i.e. floridly psychotic or wholly "straight" ? Does she have a DSM diagnosis ? I don't know .
Is CG currently in remission or, maybe, currently only exhibiting the negative symptoms of a certain disorder ? I don't know.

Maybe it's "merely" a cluster A disorder ? I don't know . Does that warrant the term "crazy" ? I don't know. How crazy is "crazy" ?

Maybe CG is pre-emptively appropriating the term "crazy" in the same way that an African - American might the term "n*****" i.e. using satire to dismiss the insult before it can even be used ?

As for "pretentious gibberish" , how ? Given that the thread is called "Symbolic Stuff Nobody Gives A Crap About" ? Obscure - yes. Peculiar at times - yes. But where is she looking down her nose at anyone else ? I don't really see much jostling for self -adulation...

Anyhow...
 
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Wow. :eek: Thank you.
 
I don't understand your insistence on "pure" craziness. Doesn't it seem a false dichotomy i.e. floridly psychotic or wholly "straight" ? Does she have a DSM diagnosis ? I don't know .
Is CG currently in remission or, maybe, currently only exhibiting the negative symptoms of a certain disorder ? I don't know.

Maybe it's "merely" a cluster A disorder ? I don't know . Does that warrant the term "crazy" ? I don't know. How crazy is "crazy" ?

Maybe CG is pre-emptively appropriating the term "crazy" in the same way that an African - American might the term "n*****" i.e. using satire to dismiss the insult before it can even be used ?

As for "pretentious gibberish" , how ? Given that the thread is called "Symbolic Stuff Nobody Gives A Crap About" ? Obscure - yes. Peculiar at times - yes. But where is she looking down her nose at anyone else ? I don't really see much jostling for self -adulation...

Anyhow...

Exactly here:
I was at work mopping floors when I saw this and have since given it some thought beyond calling you a pussy. Which you are.

I am not traditionally crazy. I do not rock back and forth chanting Morrissey's name or even obsess about him so much beyond the context of always kind of listening to the subtext of every conversation that I believe he seems to be involved in. Listen to Ouigi Board once to gt a feel for what I mean. One could say that act in itself is crazy, listening to a "secret" language, and I wouldn;t fault anyone for pointing out that that's a little nuts. But I like to think of it more like I am thinking outside of the box, not exactly crazy. I have a life, I have friends and family that I love. I have pets. I drive a car and do odd jobs and design wedding invitations and paint things on commission and help people organize their houses. I listen to lots of music and love baseball and drag racing and reading books and watching movies and going to restaurants and having a beer with a pal and lots of normal stuff. So I am not traditionally crazy, I don't hear voices or have irrational fears beyond certain cosmic theories I entertain, but they don't rule my life. So I try to exercise everything, every thought with a certain degree of moderation, even the "crazy" ones like that Morrissey and I are a hermetic androgyne. Does listening to Morrissey make me happy? Yes, there's something about his voice that sets my mind at ease. I sense that he is looking for something I might have the answer to. I sense that as sweet as the platitudes delivered to him on stage about how brave he is and voice for animals and all that is, at the end of the day, NOT what he is looking for, that he walks off stage feeling empty. Stuck racing, racing racing from city to city waiting for the epiphany that he is denied because greater dark forces are at work. So I keep on keeping on here, rambling on about ghosts and green language and light and blah. I find that, and this is addressing the logical conundrum you seem to be using to dismiss me, at the end of MY day being Crystal Geezer, it is easiest to say "I'm crazy." It;s just like Morrissey saying "I'm miserable." He isn't really, it;s just easier to say that. But if you met me, you;d know in two seconds that I am as sane as the day is long, and kinda fun to be around. I can shelve the cryptic shit faster than than you can log in anonymously, but I it's always there. But I am not crazy.

Now if you want me to BE crazy, if that helps YOUR argument, I offer you this:

You are a pussy for logging in anonymously and it frustrates me. You know what I do with my puss every night? I beat the shit out of it. It has a hood too. Just sayin'. :cool:


And the rest of this thread is an exercise in her own repeatedly admitted schizophrenic attention-whore-dom.
 
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