I am...
So it’s been suggested on many an occasion that I am crazy. I won’t go into the Catch-22 of the situation by the inability of my own to self-diagnosed mental illness, as it would discredit the original analysis on the terms of not being insane and be able to make the determination in the first place. Follow me here? Good. Let’s move on.
No, I won’t dissertate on the particulars of the voices in my head and how sometimes they come out, but I will touch on how, sometimes, I fool them all by being someone else for a while.
Y’all see, I’ve had a bit of an identity crisis for a while, maybe just short of all my life. Yeah, I’m sure we’ve all put on a cape and flew around as our favorite superhero, but I took it to levels higher than Calvin. I can probably blame the comics I read and adored and committed to the far recesses of my memory. I watch Smallville these days and can pick it apart for the abusive creative license they use. But talk about deep fascination with the comics – I still have recurring dreams that I AM Batman and literally wake myself lashing out at criminals. Gotta feel for the wife here. Let’s just say the sides of the bed have been defined as danger zones come dreamtime.
And then there’s that alias thing. Not the show – I’m talkin’ about the myriad of names I go by, depending on what crowd I’m with. I owe this to dear ‘ol Dad. He might have me beat in terms of names and identities. Daniel, Dan , Danny, Chuck, Bone, Porquead, Porq, Johnny, Johnny Bupilini, JHON (spelled just like that, for emphasis of course), are some of the aliases that mi padre goes by. Me? Over time I’ve had a few for various reasons as well. Bone, Son of Chuck, D, Big D, D-Man, Johnny Bandman, Man-Kai, and Rosetta. Rosetta? Yeah – I was abusing this kind of Live-Aid donation scam. Rosetta needed help. I needed help. Help came in terms of your donations. Let’s move on.
Why am I thinking about this? Because it’s the Big Bone’s birthday today. Go figure – April 1st. Just more proof that my God has got the best sense of humor going.
So heads up folks – my old man might have notched one more orbit around that medium-sized star called the Sun, but he’s still my number one partner in crime. And that means no one is safe. The voices told me so.
No, I won’t dissertate on the particulars of the voices in my head and how sometimes they come out, but I will touch on how, sometimes, I fool them all by being someone else for a while.
Y’all see, I’ve had a bit of an identity crisis for a while, maybe just short of all my life. Yeah, I’m sure we’ve all put on a cape and flew around as our favorite superhero, but I took it to levels higher than Calvin. I can probably blame the comics I read and adored and committed to the far recesses of my memory. I watch Smallville these days and can pick it apart for the abusive creative license they use. But talk about deep fascination with the comics – I still have recurring dreams that I AM Batman and literally wake myself lashing out at criminals. Gotta feel for the wife here. Let’s just say the sides of the bed have been defined as danger zones come dreamtime.
And then there’s that alias thing. Not the show – I’m talkin’ about the myriad of names I go by, depending on what crowd I’m with. I owe this to dear ‘ol Dad. He might have me beat in terms of names and identities. Daniel, Dan , Danny, Chuck, Bone, Porquead, Porq, Johnny, Johnny Bupilini, JHON (spelled just like that, for emphasis of course), are some of the aliases that mi padre goes by. Me? Over time I’ve had a few for various reasons as well. Bone, Son of Chuck, D, Big D, D-Man, Johnny Bandman, Man-Kai, and Rosetta. Rosetta? Yeah – I was abusing this kind of Live-Aid donation scam. Rosetta needed help. I needed help. Help came in terms of your donations. Let’s move on.
Why am I thinking about this? Because it’s the Big Bone’s birthday today. Go figure – April 1st. Just more proof that my God has got the best sense of humor going.
So heads up folks – my old man might have notched one more orbit around that medium-sized star called the Sun, but he’s still my number one partner in crime. And that means no one is safe. The voices told me so.
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