A writer can easily get drunk on his own imagination,

when this happens, he’s liable to do things and say things that get him into trouble

I have a kind of intuition, or reoccurring paranoia

For instance, I overheard that a woman owns my apartments

and there are security cameras


I think about her lounging in her big house

watching the residents like God

while she eats bon bons in a business suit


at the free entertainment

she has created for herself.

This has been a point of contention

with my pastor

when I asked him about his statement

that God was watching me.

“Is he watching me in the shower?” I asked.


“Is he watching me when I get married, and I do the deed with my wife.”

“The deed?”

“You know, the ibidi-dibidi.”

“I’m afraid, I don’t know.”

“Come on man, you know… It feels like God is a voyeur.”

“You are comparing God to a pervert?”

“Well, if he’s watching me all of the time, what would you call it?”


My imagination wanders off without me

and I let it

Recently, I wiped my Facebook of all blog posts

I can’t let Christians read what I write

but part of me, wants to take the risk

My family and friends keep inviting me to church with pity in their eyes

“Come back to Jesus,” is what their saying, without saying it

When I get into the public eye

my paranoia will reach a pinnacle of proportions

and I’ll be like Howard Hughes, bottling my urine and saving my fingernails in glass jars

But on a more serious note, a girl at bible study said… “I never saw William Shatner in Star Trek—it was in that other movie…”

“Miss Congeniality.”

“That’s the one. How did you know?”

“Just a good guess.” But really, I saw, what she saw, in my own mind, but if you tell a girl at bible study that, she’ll think you’re a witch

or possessed by evil spirits.

I find myself making movie recommendations that are rated R. “Oh—it’s rated R, you know, really good, so you probably shouldn’t watch it.”

I told the men at bible study, I have a big blog

and they asked me what it was called

“Intellectual Shaman.”

“Oh—” they said, with deep intake of breath. They started searching for it on their phones

and I was looking for the nearest exit

to get out of there.

At work, it’s no different.

I sit through diversity trainings, and I have to restrain myself

It’s kind of like when you’re afraid you’re going to say something embarrassing in public

or you’re going to laugh when you shouldn’t.

I remember this time in high school when a big Russian talked to us about the mass graves in the old Soviet Union

and he had enormous eyebrows…

“Then, they reloaded their guns, and shot them again. When the bodies were buried, they had to sprinkle them with lime, to hide the smell.”

I burst out laughing

It wasn’t what he was saying. It was his eyebrows.

They used to lock people in mental institutions for uncontrollable laughter

I’m a psychologist, so I know

the black lady running the diversity training keeps using these horrific examples of white males

“And then he grabbed her by the… What a horrible man, don’t you agree?”

All the feminists in the audience said, “Amen.”

It’s like being on a strange planet that believes in a weird religion

then the black lady (who holds a doctorate degree from the same university as me) asked the women what they would think if Mr. Bournes was walking to his car late at night, and they were in the same parking lot together…

“We would think he was a rapist,” the women teachers said.

I was horrified.

I don’t think of myself as a rapist (maybe of the mind, but…)

I talked to the vice principal about it, and he told me, “Why are you wasting your energy?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t help myself. It sends a message that white men are toxic. Don’t you think that has a poisonous effect on the culture of the school?”

“Only for those who believe it,” he said. “We need to love our neighbor.”

“Well, I think they’re drinking it up like cool-aid. Somebody needs to stop this madness.”

The principal is treating me like an unpredictable lunatic, after my outburst in the last training.

People like me.

Some, are afraid of me.

My paranoia is similar to the preppers who imagine the end of the world happening…

Most of the men I work with drink beer and deal with groundhogs’ day

I can’t do that

I need to get drunk on my own imagination

I can’t do my job sober

I believe the principal is terrified that somebody will give me an open microphone—

I know it keeps me up at night.

I have to take melatonin to get to sleep

and I have strange dreams.

11 thoughts on “Drunk, Again

  1. Loved every line of it. I was in a boarding school in the East of Germany, run by Catholic nuns. One day we learned a small child had died of a raptured appendix. I was in 3rd grade, eight years old. We were all lined up in pairs to walk into the dining room, when one of the nuns asked us all for a prayer. Afterward she told us that god sometimes asks children to come home to heaven, because he loves them too much.

    “Is that why nuns get so old?” I had to ask, not my smartest move.

    Liked by 1 person

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