Mark showed up today. We had quite the fiasco on Friday finding a hospital to give him an appointment. Basically it involved going to three hospitals (beth israel, bellvue and harlem hospital). Appartently living 15 blocks from a hospital is not as good as living over 70 away. So Harlem hospital gave him an appointment tomorrow at 2:15. I don't know if he's gonna come here and have me go with him. I don't know how sad he is today. I have my psychic feelers out there and expect that he is #1, either passed out at home, or #2 passed out in a park, or #3. talking to strangers and cavorting like he usually does. I told him I would help him yes, but not at the expense of further indebting myself, sinking deeper into poverty. He could get help, but he won't ask for it. Not because of some fucked up paranoia about his parents being out to get him, as so far his paranoia has been strictly limited to strangers following him and his ass being GPSed. But Francis and I were walking with him and he was talking about how he ate in a soup kitchen ...
My new plight, concern, is for the greater good, the lesser person, not completely whole because of a broken mind. or perhaps just broke. I researched artist grants, aid for people who didn't have what it takes to be whole.
Those of us who have nothing to offer in terms of monetary summalogy get the proverbial shaft by the medical community, fate ignored largely because we don't have the funds or the capacity to "pay up". We pay you motherfuckers to care. Oftentimes I find the idea of paying someone to help you as absurd as having to always ask for it.
This government, one of the most fucked up, corrupt, corrosive forces in all of the free world (and then some) would rather spend its millions and billions in excess revenues to pay for wars and other situations where we have our thumbs so far jammed up everyone' asses, we have no idea what is real and what is bullshit. I think it's all bullshit, crap, smeared into pretty designs, excuses. We as a whole represent much of what is wrong with the world today. Greed. Money. Power we exercise in force, not much better than the dictators we swear to ...
So Francis pointed out something to me. today. That was itterated to me by mark. but was never really too evident. obvious. until today. Schizophrenia. Schizoid tendencies. So abundant. Fresh like open wounds to the point that he's weeping, and somewhere in the back corners of my mind I am weeping, too. Afraid of. Not understanding. I wish. He's an artist. And I have always considered myself so on point with psychology. Issues. Like if I just talked to him enough. Convinced him he wasn't sick. Just poked holes in his conspiracy theories. Pointed him in obvious directions. Giggled with him. Francis has made me a little afraid. When he looks at me sometimes I see something. A glimmer of the boy I used to know. Someone who has me built up in his eyes so high there is nothing for me to do but fall. I love his energy. Maybe I love him for what he represents. Artistically and socially. He's 8. He seems like a little boy who has no control over how big he is. Like an overgrown giant. So overpowered by his weakness, an illness. Told me today that after shaving his head yesterday he needed ...
