I'm Fine

CHORUS
I’m fine!
I’m fine!
Nothing is wrong!
I’m fine!

VERSE 1
You broke your oath to do no harm
When I waved you off with my charm
For more answers, you twisted my arm
Until the cows came home to the farm
Is it suicide or just a matter of pride?
Do I keep it all tucked away inside?
Are these the tears I’m trying to hide?
Nothing is wrong! I’m fucking fine!

CHORUS
I’m fine!
I’m fine!
Nothing is wrong!
I’m fine!

VERSE 2
When everything is stuck in past tense
From prehistory to way back when
A trauma drama from the middle ages
Or the bloodstains on my diary pages
I swear it’s all just an overreaction
No need to call the white coat faction
You can chalk it up to artistic passion
I’m doing fine! I’m gaining traction!

CHORUS
I’m fine!
I’m fine!
Nothing is wrong!
I’m fine!

VERSE 3
What goes on in my head and heart
Can be summed up as a work of art
There’s no need to come to my rescue
“I’m Superman here to defend you!”
“I’m Wonder Woman! I love your soul!
“I’m the Human Torch! Get out of the cold!”
“I’m Batman here for your fifty-one-fifty!”
I’m fucking fine! I’m not dying or sickly!

EXTENDED CHORUS
I’m fine!
I’m fine!
Nothing is wrong!
I’m fine!
I’m dandy!
I’m manly!
Everything’s fucked!
This sucks!

FINAL VERSE
Push me for answers? Are you the necromancer?
If I pass your test, can I get my Master’s?
If I confess the darkest parts of my mind
Is there a Hold Harmless form to be signed?

Insane Asylum

VERSE 1

Prisoners have more rights than we do

Call it a hospital? That shit is see-through

A medieval dungeon with torture devices

A lobotomy is what you’ve decided

Electroshock to scramble the brains

Straightjacket so tight, extreme pain

Orderlies beating us up for no reason

Fresh new prisoners, it’s hunting season

CHORUS

Insane asylum, healthcare ward

Heard the euphemisms before

Spraying dog shit with cologne

Doesn’t make it smell like home

VERSE 2

Mental ward system is all about money

Got to keep them loonies from running

Lock them up and collect your payday

Maximize profit, taxman stay away

It’s not a crazy conspiracy theory

You motherfuckers refuse to hear me

Another wrestling match with the nurses

They too collect money like fight purses

CHORUS

Insane asylum, healthcare ward

Heard the euphemisms before

Spraying dog shit with cologne

Doesn’t make it smell like home

VERSE 3

It’s not the exception, it’s the rule

Whenever you pull out a torture tool

One day they’ll carry your ass away

You can be in the center of the fray

You can be strapped down to a gurney

Electroshock will leave you burning

A shot of horse to put you to bed

But like you said, it’s all in your head

EXTENDED CHORUS

Insane asylum, healthcare ward

Heard the euphemisms before

Spraying dog shit with cologne

Doesn’t make it smell like home

No insurance, no healthcare

The dungeon is right over there

Out of sight from the rest of town

Depressed frowns turn upside down

FINAL LINE

Hahahahahahahahaha!

No

Just no

The Legomancer

“When we find that bitch, she doesn’t get off the shock table,” Dr. Diana Gunn reminded her two orderlies. “Shit, I don’t care if I get the gas chamber; I’m killing that loony toon. We’re going to find her tonight. Not after breakfast, not after Wheel of Fortune, we’re going to find her NOW!”

“She always had a thing for Legos,” said RJ Maddox as he shined a flashlight throughout the parking lot of Toys R Us. The orderly towered over his boss by a shit load of inches, but his menacing scowl commanded fear more often than his brutish muscles.

“She likes to call herself the Legomancer, whatever the hell that is,” said Jimmy Lord as he filled his syringe with a viscous red fluid. Despite his hefty frame, he could easily keep up with his boss and his coworker. All of this walking and not one sign of huffing and puffing.

“Liz McKinnon better goddamn jolly well be in there or I’m having both of your nuts on a silver platter,” belted Dr. Gunn. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. I just want to get her ass back to the hospital and sleep easy tonight. That bitch will be lucky if she sleeps anywhere but a fucking cemetery tonight.”

Diana pulled her taser gun out of her lab coat and flashed some electricity to illuminate the psychotic expression on her face. Her pulsating bloodshot eyes and botched lipstick job would have anybody kneeling on the floor begging for mercy. RJ cracked his knuckles on both hands, every pop sounding like a machinegun bursting during a time of war. Jimmy grinned devilishly as he squirted a small sample of his needle fluid in the air. It was kill or be killed for these mental hospital employees and they were bringing a scorched earth into that darkened Toys R Us.

“Well, how do you like that?” hissed Diana. “She picked the goddamn locks. She always was a crafty little shit. I’ll bet that’s how she got out of her restraints. Not to worry: we’re going to fuck her up so badly she doesn’t even make it to the hospital tonight. That bitch is DOA!”

The scorched earth attitude of the doctor and her orderlies cooled off into a nervous freeze when they marched into the store to see what it had become. “What the fuck?” asked Jimmy Lord as RJ shined the club-sized flashlight around the store. Empty Lego boxes piled high in every corner. Lego sets built as instructed, but with oddly colored bricks. Pink and blue dinosaurs, green and red pirate ships, mismatched minifigures, and orange birds all decorated this playful palace.

“Don’t piss your pants just yet, boys,” warned Diana as she flashed some more electricity. “We’ve dealt with loonies like this before. This shit ain’t new to us.” She contradicted her own statements with a prolonged, “Oh my god!” once she and her boys made it to the middle of the store. Glowing brightly with red and orange plastic tubes, a life size merry-go-round with Lego horses and medieval knights twirled in circles while playing creepy organ music in the background.

“Woo-hoo! Yeah! This is the life!” yapped Liz McKinnon as she rode around on her own creation while waving her hands in the air. She remained in the shadows of the carrousel and then caused her assailants to nearly piss themselves when one of the light tubes revealed her Lego minifigure body in life-size form. The brick legs, the tube arms, the claw-like hands, and the smiling yellow face with wavy brown hair: she had it all.

“Don’t just stand there, guys! Let’s get her!” snapped Diana. Her three person team bum rushed the carrousel like a family of rhinos in a quaking stampede. Liz giggled at them and rode away on her horse towards the back of the store. By the time Diana, RJ, and Jimmy leapt onto the carrousel, the Lego pieces came crashing down on top of them, leaving them buried in plastic rubble. The studs and corners nicked their human victims to where the triple threat looked like they were mauled by street cats.

While Dr. Gunn and Jimmy wallowed in their wounds, RJ Maddox burst out of the pile with his muscled arms in the air and an ursine roar. He kicked his way through the shattered pieces and started picking up Lego sets left and right to smash them into even more pieces. He lifted spaceships in the air and threw them to the ground as hard as he could while screaming, “This is fucking bullshit! I’m going to kill that little bitch!”

During the tall black orderly’s rampage, a pirate ship flew by and crashed against his watermelon skull, opening a gash on the side of his head. He growled in pain and held his wound while glaring at the source of the pain: Liz McKinnon and her ability to levitate Lego sets in the air with her glowing blue hands.

“You people said I was crazy,” lectured Liz while sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Everyone told me that I was too old to play with Legos, that I had responsibilities, that I could never be a kid again. And now here they are sending a three-way sex circle at me in the form of you jack-offs!”

Dr. Diana Gunn shoved the Lego pieces off of herself and pulled Jimmy Lord to his feet before picking up her dropped taser gun and pointing it accusingly at Liz. “You think you’re the only one who misses her childhood?” Diana snapped. “That’s what life is all about, sweetheart! Everybody has to grow up at some point! Everybody has to venture out into the real world! It’s a part of the natural order! But you don’t want to be a normal member of society, so what do you do? You endanger your husband and children with your reckless behavior!”

“Look at you, Dr. Gunn,” mocked Liz. “Trying to debate with a so-called crazy person. Are you sure you’re not itching for a straightjacket yourself? Hell, maybe I can give you some of that shock treatment you gave me for, I don’t know, twenty fucking years!” She levitated one of her spaceships in the air and used its laser cannons to zap Diana’s taser, which sent an electrical storm of agony throughout her convulsing body before she crumpled to the floor.

While Jimmy tended to his boss’s wounds, RJ bolted towards Liz and the two of them gave chase throughout the store. Liz even did some back flips, summersaults, and made some “Hoo-hoo!” noises during her escape. RJ shrieked, “You better pray to god that I don’t catch up to you, you little hooker!” Liz kept up her tilt-a-whirl acrobatics and caused RJ’s blood to boil even further.

Their chase led the two of them through the various isles and into the back of the store, where Mr. Maddox stood in awe of the gigantic Lego castle that Liz crafted for herself. She blew him a kiss before storming past the gates and disappearing behind the shadows. This time RJ cracked his neck on both sides and stomped into the castle after her. He managed to tuck and roll out of the way of dragon statues breathing fire at him as well as knife traps trigged from the ceiling above.

“Is that all you got?!” RJ mocked with his hands spread out in a Jesus Christ pose. “This is what you left your family for?! I got you cornered, you little skank! It won’t be long before I punch the shit out of you! Hell, your husband and kids don’t even miss you anyways! I bet they’ll dance all over your grave once I put your ass six feet under!”

As RJ trekked through the hallways of the castle, he could hear little children crying their eyes out at his remarks. “No…no, this is ridiculous.” He kicked down one of the doors and found Liz sitting at a dinner table with two tiny Lego minifigures in her arms as well as a life-sized Lego man sitting across from her. RJ rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things and indeed they were as real as the Christmas tree illuminating their features.

“How could you say those things about my family, RJ?” asked Liz with a sour frown. “They’ve been here the whole time. This is where I belong, not in an insane asylum. And guess what, Mr. Maddox? This family is only going to get bigger…and bigger…and bigger…and bigger…”

From underneath the table and underneath Liz’s belly, more Lego mini-figures emerged to repeat her “bigger and bigger” sentiments. These Lego babies grinned at RJ with razor-sharp teeth while some of them held plastic swords and guns. Even Mr. McKinnon had his own gigantic silver sword that he swung around in the air with the lightness of a feather.

“You people are fucked up! You hear me?! You’re all fucked up!” screamed RJ as he ran out of the castle with his arms flailing in the air like a lunatic. His childish screams turned to maniacal laughter while dragon statues, mini-figures, and Creator dinosaurs roared monstrously at him. The floor swirled underneath him while various light tubes flashed and nearly caused him to have a psychotic seizure.

When RJ spotted Jimmy giving chest compressions to Diana, the tall black orderly chuckled hysterically with his tongue hanging out to his chest while he yanked the hypodermic needle out of Jimmy’s belt. “What the fuck are you doing?!” Jimmy shouted. But it was too late. RJ jammed the needle into his jugular and injected himself full of psychotic drugs. The swirling floor constantly changed colors. The flashing lights exploded like fireworks. The dragons and dinosaurs laughed like serial killers as did the McKinnon family and their many “children”. RJ’s brain popped like popcorn as he crumpled to a relaxed heap on the floor, his tongue dissolving into a red pool of filth. He could finally close his eyes and forget that this all happened.

Hours passed since the time RJ closed his eyes. With the heaviness in his eyelids, the aching in his head, and the soreness in his ribcage, it felt like days, maybe even months went by. He couldn’t move his arms because they were trapped in a straightjacket. He couldn’t sit up because he was bound to a table with leather straps. He could turn his head slightly, but waited until his eyes adjusted to the florescent lights to see just where the hell he was. Strapped to the adjacent tables were a raving and drooling Jimmy Lord and a teeth-gnashing Diana Gunn.

“At least I can get some rest,” whispered RJ as he relaxed in his laying position.

“It’s five o’clock, Mr. Maddox. Time for your treatment!” squeaked a familiar voice.

RJ said, “Oh, no!” and screamed his head off when he saw Liz McKinnon decked out in hospital scrubs holding shock pads in either hands. And yes, she was still in Lego mini-figure form. No matter how hard RJ struggled and yelped, he couldn’t avoid the two lightning bolts surging through either side of his head, sending him into yet another relaxed state of mind. His world went black, but all he dreamed about was more Lego madness. More goddamn dragons. More goddamn fanged babies. More goddamn Liz McKinnon and her freaky family. “Just kill me already!” he drooled.

Disturbance in the Machine

***DISTURBANCE IN THE MACHINE***

Whenever I write a full-length novel, I always want to use it as a platform to highlight important issues in my life. Occupy Wrestling is not only about wrestling, but it’s about Mitch McLeod’s hot temper. Filter Feeder is not only about environmental issues, but it’s about strained relationships. Watch You Burn is not only about anime, but also about schizophrenia. And last but not least, Demon Axe is not only about heavy metal music, but also about PTSD.

Of course, these novels (first draft or otherwise) were written long after a little anthology I had called Disturbance in the Machine, where multiple mental health issues were supposed to be tackled. Think of it as having the story structure of Tales From the Hood with the setting of an abandoned insane asylum. The stories were told by an ex-patient named Eric Bradley and they were listened to be the mother of a former patient Nicole McShane.

While these stories were supposed to talk about mental illness in a positive way, they ended up being “crazy” stereotypes. Serial killers who used scissors, ninjas in diapers, McDonald’s employees with anger management issues, and troubled teens with puppet fetishes were just a few of the characters presented in this anthology. In the end, these stories didn’t really accomplish anything, not even advancing the overall story to its climax.

And speaking of climaxes, Nicole McShane reveals herself to be a detective assigned to bring Eric Bradley to justice, which would probably make the reader wonder why she didn’t cuff him and stuff him earlier on in the book. Why all of these pointless stories if the purpose was to arrest him?

Speaking of pointless stories, the anthology ends with Eric telling a much longer story about an abandoned pig who ventures out to the city with other animals to try and survive the cruel outside world. The animals end up being therapy pets for a terminally ill child named Sam, who puts on his favorite Pink Floyd song “Pigs on the Wing” to end the story.

Surely, not everything you touch as an author will turn to gold. Sometimes it’s best to know which stories are worthy of being edited and revived and which ones should stay in the past. Because of this, Disturbance in the Machine no longer has a place in my archives. The main story made no sense, the meta stories made even less sense, and the pig stories made even less sense than that.

However, that doesn’t mean certain aspects of this dead-on-arrival novel can’t be used for future projects. If I were to salvage from the wreckage, I’d probably keep the title Disturbance in the Machine because of how cool it sounds. Telling stories in a mental hospital can work as long as the main characters of those stories are presented in a positive light and the harsh conditions of the hospital are vilified. Remember, a truly sympathetic character is the key to maintaining the reader’s interest (even if that character is sometimes an asshole). Even the pig story can have some meaning, but only as its own entity.

Another thing I’d like to keep from the Disturbance in the Machine canon is the poem that preceded it of the same name. It might be a part of Confessions of a Schizophrenic Savage, but I’m not entirely sure. It’s basically a downer of a song describing the idea of not being human and going through life on autopilot. Somebody on Deviant Art wrote a counter-prose to that where he turned the gears and metal into flesh and organs and told the machine to “live”. That’s easily one of my favorite comments I’ve received on this site since I joined in 2005. Find Disturbance in the Machine (the song) in my gallery and read it and the comments below it to see why I feel the way I do.

Nostalgia: it ain’t what it used to be. That may be true, but it’s still a lot of fun to venture into a creative person’s past and see what he or she came up with back then. Although most of my creative projects back in the day are embarrassing to read now, it doesn’t they can’t be resurrected with my current writing skills and made into something beautiful. That’s the nature of art: creating something beautiful from the ashes. The movie Pink Floyd the Wall drives this point home when Pink smashes up his hotel room and then creates a collage out of the destroyed pieces.

I’m not recommending any of you do what Pink did in this movie, I’m just saying that creativity is the perfect therapy for rising from the ashes like a phoenix. I hope to one day do that with Disturbance in the Machine, whether it’s a novel, anthology, short story collection, or whatever. The truth of the matter is, though, that there are other novel ideas in my archives waiting to be realized. Booger the Clown and Chicken and Fries are the ones I’ve been thinking about the most, but I haven’t really fleshed them out in a scene-by-scene analysis yet. Maybe what I really need to do is randomly select which novel I work on next, just like I do with books to read and characters to use.

I wouldn’t mind working on Disturbance in the Machine again with the skills I have today, but it’ll probably be a backburner project since I don’t have any immediate ideas of what to do with it. Usually I have characters an a brief synopsis, but nothing more than that when it comes to novels. Maybe the point of this blog entry is to motivate myself to flesh out novel ideas more often instead of just letting them sit there doing nothing. I’d like to think that’s the case. I’m Garrison Kelly and I’ll see you next time!

***MARIE KREPPS/ASHLEY UZZELL STORIES***

Over the past few months, Marie has been putting out short stories under both of her pennames. I’ve already reviewed Hunting Vampires with Grandma and gave it a passing grade. Now I’m currently reading Reaching For the Light (a mental illness-themed collaboration with TL Katt). All I have to do is read TL Katt’s half of the story and I’m ready to review this puppy and potentially give it an extra credit grade. The other two stories that I’ll eventually get to are Spunky and the Dolphin Palace (a children’s fantasy collaboration with her daughter Kyra Uzzell) and The Blood Files: the Case of Arnus Mortem (vampire horror collaboration with BJ Taylor). I can blow through these stories in the span of one or two days apiece. My hopes are high with how much energy I’ll have to do it since I’m going for longer walks during the day and getting my cardio jacked up. I’m already noticing a difference in my body. Hang in there, Marie-Pie: you’ll earn your high grades soon enough, my lovely friend.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

I’ve already submitted my entry for the WSS’s contest and it’s called Exile. There’s no need to advertise it again in this blog, so I’ll get straight to the point with the Dark Fantasy Warrior pictures that’ll come from that story. You’ve already seen Night Wolf and Maria Kevin on Deviant Art, Good Reads, and Face Book. The final character from that story that needs drawing is Stigma Dominick, the guilt-ridden necromancer. He definitely earned his sad face in that story and hopefully it’ll reflect in his artwork.

***FACE BOOK POST OF THE DAY***

If a British exit is called Brexit and a French exit is called Frexit, what does that make a Serbian exit? Sexit? Sounds kinky. Of course, Serbia isn’t a part of the European Union, but just imagine the unintended comedy if they actually considered a Sexit. I’m getting douche chills just thinking about it. Hehe!

"The Silence of the Lambs" by Thomas Harris

BOOK TITLE: The Silence of the Lambs
AUTHOR: Thomas Harris
YEAR: 1988
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Psychological Thriller
GRADE: Pass


Newest FBI recruit Clarice Starling is thrown straight into the line of duty when her latest assignment comes in the form of capturing an elusive serial killer nicknamed Buffalo Bill. To gain insight on Bill’s whereabouts, Clarice must visit an insane asylum and have frequent chats with another serial killer, Hannibal Lecter. The more the two of them talk, the more Clarice realizes that Hannibal is playing mind games with her instead of helping her track a serial killer. He becomes increasingly stubborn when a Tennessee senator’s daughter is taken by Buffalo Bill and the victim only has a week to live, give or take, before she’s officially murdered.

Serial killing is disturbing enough on its own. Thomas Harris managed to make the villainous act even more disgusting with the addition of Buffalo Bill and Hannibal Lecter. Buffalo Bill’s claim to infamy is hunting down random women and peeling their skin off like a banana before leaving them floating in the swampy river. Hannibal Lecter isn’t any more of a humanitarian since he cannibalizes his victims with a side of fava beans and a glass of wine. These two serial killers act as though their frightening habits are normal everyday occurrences. What’s that? Peeling the skin off of a big breasted woman to make a vest? Why not act nonchalant about it? Feeding an unwitting former patient the remains of a cannibalistic supper and having that patient develop anorexia afterwards? Nope, nothing wrong here.

Luckily for the victims of both serial killers, the FBI doesn’t quit. In fact, the methods and science behind every investigation would lead me to believe that either Thomas Harris is a former investigator or he spent tireless hours on research. Either way, he makes putting the reader’s trust into Clarice Starling and other investigators that much more believable. No stone is left unturned from what clothing stores the victims shopped at to where the insects in their throats came from to what kinds of wounds Buffalo Bill is inflicting on his opponents. This brand of science reminds me of what Abby Sciuto and Ducky Mallard do on “NCIS”. But this book was written in 1988, so Clarice Starling didn’t have the benefit of Google, GPS trackers, or quick access to facial recognition software. She had to do all of this the grueling old school way.

But we know that Clarice will be okay in the end because the reader will recognize her as a strong character. She’s been though a lot in her life and most of her trauma is brought to light in her conversations with Hannibal Lecter. In addition to having a brain full of nightmare fuel, she also has to put up with authority figures not believing in her at first, which is natural for a green agent, but even more so for a woman. This is a woman with a lot to prove and when she finally puts two and two together, it was the result of hard research and a tough mind. She’s running on fumes, but every mile counts for something. She lets nothing go to waste and she never will. If you still doubt her by the end of this novel, then you’re a hard son of a bitch to please.

Silence of the Lambs has gained a reputation over the years of being disturbing and frightening to even the toughest of minds, especially now that there’s been a movie made out of it. Hannibal Lecter’s name gets used in just about every conversation about psychopaths and murderers. Hell, he was even used in a joke on “Whose Line Is it Anyway?” when the Scenes from a Hat prompt was “Things you don’t want to hear after eating dinner.” With a twisted mind and a college professor’s knowledge of what he’s writing about, Thomas Harris has created a masterpiece and a legacy that will last for generations to come, probably in the form of PTSD or schizophrenia.