Rev. 22:

[1] And he shewed me a toxic sewer of excrement of humans, vile as cockroach swarms, proceeding out of the grates of streets and of the earth.
[2] In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the sewer, was there the tree of death, which bare thirteen manner of crap, and plugged her crap every month: and the crap of the tree were for the noxiousness of the nations.
[3] And there shall be no more blessing: but the sewage of streets and of the earth shall be in it; and each shall serve themselves:
[4] And they shall see crappy faces; and crappy faces shall be in their foreheads.
[5] And there shall be no day there; and they need no tissue, neither night of the moon; for the cholera giveth them dark: and crap shall reign for ever and ever.

Seven Rabies Shots:

I had seven rabies shots in the stomach as a kid administered by Dr. Bazzi in Freetown. 

I was bit by a dog.  I had told my friend not to go up a certain driveway because the dogs bite. 

So, I went up the driveway to show him that the dogs bite and I was bit.

By the seventh appointment for the series of rabies shots, Dr. Bazzi was sick of my screaming and let go of the syringe to pick his nose, I guess.

I have a vivid recollection of the long needle in my stomach extended from the syringe wobbling back and forth with my breathing and I stopped screaming for a minute or two.

Dejected:

I used to think of myself as creative with writing, until I didn't sell but one book to my uncle.

I thought that I knew about computers, but all I know is surfing the Internet: even though I type 50 words/minute with 100% accuracy and code at 100% accuracy.

I had three different part time jobs for eight years at a U., as a super and my whole health issue, which requires work keeping frequent, monthly appointments charged to insurance at $369/hr. according to billing.

Then, I hung myself due to seemingly irreconcilable differences even unto this day between myself and a broad spectrum of people in my life: relatives, acquaintances, co-workers to strangers in the community where I live.

Now, I sit at home all day, surf the Internet, pretend to write something of interest to others (but not judging from how many books I've sold), smoke, drink, sleep and eat going out of the house as seldom as possible.

I cannot think of one viable talent that I have which could earn a living wage or if it is possible for me to pry myself away from my pets and writing at home to work at anything else.

A list of jobs that I've been paid to do as of 40 years old is: painting, florist, demolition, construction, data tech, tutor, valet, super, dishwasher, landscaper, delivery, clown, mover, telemarketer, volunteer, driver and model.

"My eyes are rich, but my hands are poor; I've seen many variations, but I don't have any skills."

I have a broad base of general self education, the which I endeavor in writing having read for a period of years until surfeit with reading so that I now write, but ultimately: I have no skill set(s) in writing or anything else to earn a living within parameters of most organizations due to my limitations as a diagnosed schizophrenic and all that "schizophrenia" entails.

Somehow, I suspect a greater paradigm is at work against my success at anything due to my diagnosis of schizophrenia.  Schizophrenia and all that it entails robs me everyday of a slew of positivity replaced by negativity both within my thinking and popular culture thinking about "schizophrenia" and about people diagnosed with it.

It is as if I am expected to be an autonomous person in that nothing that others do or say affects my well being or outlook due to my diagnosis and anything can be said or done to me with impunity.

I can't be what ten people tell me to be, so I sit at home and write about woe is me with my pets as company while the Philharmonic plays a symphony aired over a frequency in my efficiency.

Can anyone blame me?  Is it my fault that I find myself here today at the keyboard?  Was I born to vegetate or cut a person off incurring curses or else did I wake up just today to be maligned, criticized and lambasted back to my efficiency as a conditioned recluse?

Epithets on an Epitaph

What I don't think that anybody I know understands about me (except my wife) is that every day for the last seventeen years since 1996, I have awoken to the same thought:

'Oh god!  Not another day with schizophrenia.'

The effects of that thought are deleterious to my psyche because of what all "schizophrenia" brings with it from obtuse commentary to outright home invasions and physical attacks on my person causing depression, low self esteem, anxiety, withdrawal, fear of my own shadow, not to mention fear of other people and circumstances, etc.

So, when I am told things like "it's all in your head," "zero credibility," "pathetic," "you hear voices," "motherfucker," "you have milked schizophrenia for long enough," "teatsucker," "chicken," "alkie who swills drinks with sperm," "schizo," etc.: it affects me in a psychological way by causing me to feel negatively about myself.

Peoples' words and actions effect affect of themselves and others.  "No man is an island unto himself."  People are not autonomous as individuals.  People need people and people tend to feel needed and wanted when a person is not put down over and over again by those a person is beholden to such as family, friends or societal causes, ad infinitum.

I cannot easily forget commentaries or physical attacks to my person as I awake everyday to everything that "schizophrenia" brings from appointments with quacks at least twice per month if not more often for the last seventeen years since 1996 to offering a $450/hr. legal job to a $700/hr. lawyer while telecommuting to New Jersey from my apartment earning $10/hr. to place the call and one hundred other calls to lawyers offering the same $450/hr. job.

With a climate of hysteria in media about "schizophrenia" in light of "schizophrenia" being mentioned as a reason for random gun violence, it is my "lot" diagnosed as "schizophrenia" to be outcast from most meaningful avenues in life: such as is available to people who are considered "functioning" in spite of "mental illness" manifest in myriad so called "functioning" individuals and on society as a whole, "the world being schizophrenic."

False beliefs due to misinformation in the public eye about "schizophrenia" and myriad other circumstances, people and events are symptoms of "schizophrenia" and manifest as "mental illness" from believing "Jesus is the Son of God" to animism beliefs or that Iraq had WMDs when none were found.  People believe what they are told to believe, not what is presented before them and deducing for themselves.

So, when I am called epithets due to my "lot" in life, "schizophrenia:" I write to try and understand from whence a person derives the obtuseness as to "pour salt on a wound" while devoid of the fact that "to understand a man, walk a mile in his shoes."  My personal motto is that one never really knows what another person knows no matter how well one person thinks to know another person, so don't be quick to judge. 

lawyer

I was telecommuting from my apartment to New Jersey recruiting lawyers for a 450/hr job when a lawyer says: "why would I do that?  I make 700/hr."

I replied "good for you. I make 10/hr calling you."

He hung up.

Writing Techniques:

I usually write a piece from a feeling of angst or a pit in my stomach about something, a certain sense of anxiousness that compels me to write.  What happens is I wisp a thought as to what I want to write and then how to begin a piece (like a catchy phrase) ... go from there.