I went through some of my old documents I had in the closet, and I found a bunch of papers from when I was hospitalized the first time. They are extremely weird. On a receipt for cigarettes from Dairy Mart I scrawled on both front and back:
joint duel
snake caravan
aspect of death
encompassing me
ridged serpentine tentacles
wrapped around my face & body
hot bubbly-assed women
lesbians, young, filthy with bondage gear have casual sex as ineffectual gay dudes are thrown out
assuming they are pathetic
went down to eat pussy
they are shocked
beg to continue
but keep talking talking talking
and so nervous their love interest
lecturing me that harping around them means I am (NECRO)
got in bed by insulting them
I can only assume it was a dream of some kind. Back then I was extremely paranoid that nefarious government conspirators were trying to frame me, which manifested itself in an extreme fear that the police would bust in my house at any given moment. Also, I was convinced that my Social Security number was somehow falsified and my birthdate was wrong and my family had been lying to me my whole life. So I found another piece of yellow legal pad paper, with notes from where I called the Social Security office to make certain I was who I think I am:
ROBERTA @ SOCIAL SECURITY (800-772-1213)
STS
SS #XXX-XX-XXXX
DOB 09/XX/1977
IS CORRECT AS OF
9/8/2003, 8:10 AM
I believe I wrote this down because I believed this information would be edited in the future to portray me as a foreign national who falsified his identification. On down the page there’s a note for the cops who were assuredly coming to get me:
BY THE TIME YOU READ THIS,
911 WILL HAVE BEEN CALLED.
I AM PRONE WITH MY HANDS
BEHIND MY HEAD IN THE RESTROOM.
I think my fear was I would be assassinated and it would be rationalized by saying I attacked a police officer, so my plan was to call 911 at the first sign of intruders, that way there would be two groups of officers coming to my residence, and perhaps one of them wouldn’t be “in on it.” I don’t know what purpose the note would serve, maybe some kind of gesture to improve my chances of surviving.