Spinnin Round (Clean up and Revival being done)

[The Mayor of Nowhere]

I've done major Clean up here on Spinnin Round, Please read this rather odd story. It took alot of time to do it, and I'm not even sure I did it right.

So go ahead and Critique or correct whatever needs exactly that.

Thank You.

Spinnin Rwound aka-Not Crazy.
Basic
I’m sitting, biting my tongue, and holding my breath to not hold my breath. I’ll never get out of this alive. The gray haired stereotype fed with the cigarette dangling from his perch lips, blows acrid smog in my face. “Where were you when it happened? Why were you there? What do you know? How did you end up here?”

Such meaningless questions in a Meaningful world, I just want to go outside and see the sun again, I haven’t slept in several days now. I haven’t seen the sky in a week. What the hell do they want from me- I never thought it would get to this point-the point where I’m going to crack like an egg and sizzle all the way back to my cell. Cig Maw----yah that’s a good name for this b*****d, every time I see him he’s always smoking. And the worst part is- he knows I hate smokers, it pisses the hell the out of me and he KNOWS it.
He asks more questions as I try to relay out answers, “What is the capital of Idaho? Is your name really what it is? How come the sky is blue?”
I respond,” The capital of Idaho is Potato city, my name is Bozo the unhappy clown, the sky is blue because it reflects the ocean.” The man looks at me weird, the weirdest look I’ve gotten ever since I’ve been here- usually all the personnel of the “Hospital” we’re unemotional and unattached. I guessed it was because if they showed emotion it would make them look weak. Like they were-what’s the word? HUMAN!

Back in my cell, Cig Maw was outside proudly explaining to everybody in the hallway that I was finally cracking up. This didn’t surprise me, what did surprise me was that everybody said; “He’s going crazy? Good-it’s working.” And then Cig Maw departed to some unspecified location where he could probably watch me and hear me and know what in the worthless world I was thinking. I looked at my pocket watch, they had let me keep only one item of my past life- and that was my pocket watch- or should I say, and that was my remaining sanity. It all seemed so perfect, driving a man insane intentionally, and they really knew how to do it. Give you only one thing to really care about anymore so you put all your sanity into that one object and then there’d be none left for yourself. Like a dog eating all the kibble before the smaller weaker dog can get any. It seemed almost like the watch could talk if it wanted to. But it remained silent, I guessed because it wanted to wait for when it could show them all that THEY were crazy-not me. “Goooooood Frida! Goooood Frida!” I petted my watch saying this mantra over and over because at the end when I was done-it always made me laugh like a coyote. I yowled and chattered so all could hear me going mad. “I mean! If I’m going to go crazy then I’m taking you all with me!!” I decided to jump around the cell in order to remember how big it was. For some reason simply looking at four white padded walls wasn’t enough. The room got bigger and smaller, depending if it wanted too or not. I called this effect “Warping.” Sometimes I thought if the room warped enough, it would break and I would break out. But some dreams don’t come true like the one I had about supermodels shooting buzzards with harpoons. That never came true. It was at that point I realized I was telling all the thoughts I am currently writing down ALOUD.

A red light flashed outside my cell, and the Freaking Thought police came in. On I’m sorry-wrong book. The freaking Hospital aides came in and pumped me full of drugs. You see I do this act everyday-cause it means I get free drugs.  

[The Mayor of Nowhere]

Spinnin Rwound aka- Not crazy

The One
I woke up in the silent room next to the hospital ward for patients who had little boo-boo accidents. It always made me sick-tied to this uncomfortable bed with brown leather shackles- that somehow after getting drugged up I always ended up in this horrible place. The room wasn’t exactly silent; it was as loud as a rock’n’roll concert in the second room above yours if you lived in a boardinghouse. The ventilation system (which was always on boiling hot) attached to this room connected into the Hospital ward. You could always hear the painful screams from the ward in this room. The only way I had ever survived without screaming myself, was I imagined that the screams were a symphony and that if I concentrate hard enough-they will turn into music. Right now I was hearing “Merry had a little lamb” it was badly done though, mainly because one person was taking all the fun out of the song by screaming over other members of the rest of the choir. I yelled into the Vent, “Yo Yo Ma! Stop hogging the song you over performing prima Donna!!”

Upon my rather raucous chiding of the Choir-Here he came again! It was Cig Maw. Walking into the silent room with squeaky black shoes. I cringed upon every single solitary uttered Squeak. I yelled at him, “HEY! This is the Freaking Silent room damn’t! Can’t you read the sign??” And Ole cig maw with his wrinkly face and gray wavy hair said, “You blithering idiot-There are no signs on the outside of this door, there’s just a brail code, and I can’t read brail!!” Uh oh…It’s happening again-I thought to myself. I was starting to go crazy big time. It could’ve been the cigarette that Cig Maw lit up when he first entered the silent room or it could’ve been the squeaky shoes-somehow this b*****d always made me go Coo-coo. So as he prattled on about how illogical it was for me to think he would know to be quiet in the silent room (He said, First of all- you are the only one in the silent room who can perceive silence, the minute someone else enters- it’s a whole new story, my perception is that my squeaky shoes are quite delightfully quiet- and since I am here and are above rank in this place. I believe that My perception far outweighs yours...) And how his shoes were wonderfully squeaky or something. After all this had happened I WAS CRACKING!!

So I tried to do the relaxation exercises suggested for stressful situations in the hospital- I imagined I was melting slowly and sleepily. That my eyes were closing with my body boiling over to simmer. Then from simmer to keep warm, then from keep warm to melt. I was a regular electric frying pan, soon I could feel the shackles loosening off, and I could feel my brain falling out of my head to the ground below since my skull was now a white liquid. Slipping completely off of the uncomfortable silent room bed to the floor, Cig Maw didn’t notice, still talking about his shoes and how he’s better than me (Blahdi Blahdi Blahdi BLAH, I’m a top ranking official of the butt munch army, your stupid and stinky, my shoes are from an expensive store-and I will wear them everyday just to show them off-blah blah blah) In this state and form of a slimy liquid-I could feel nothing and think as if I was nothing, no invading thoughts-no horrible dreams- just an amoeba ,a creature that ate and shat as it will. Of course when no matter how happy you are -you will eventually be sad again. At least that’s the case with me. Cig maw in his eternal decision to annoy –prod- and make my life just plain irritating suddenly dropped the cigarette into the puddle that was me- immediately I reformed from Puddle of flesh to Muddled mesh. And there I was sitting there- except something was burning me from the inside out. Cig Maws cigarette was still somewhere in my gut- absorbed into the pool of selfness. I became angry and disgusted at the thought of a still lit cigarette in my belly- I was ANG-REE. So I stood up free of the bed and looked Cig Maw right in the face- He was still talking about the same crap by the way. And I tore off the strap from the bed and lashed around his neck-tightening it as I went in hopes of putting the dribble out of my mind. He didn’t fight or try to resist- he just kept talking and talking and TALKING!! It was maddening, but I won, eventually his talking was less than a whisper then a coughing hack- and then. Cig Maw lay at my feet-dead.
It was at that moment I noticed the screaming in the other room had stopped.
 

[The Mayor of Nowhere]

Spinnin Wround Aka-Not Crazy

Too-T- Two-2-Tutu


I might be wrong
I might be wrong
I could have sworn
I saw a light coming home

I used to think
I used to think
There is no future left at all
I used to think

Open up, begin again
Let’s go down the waterfall
Think about the good times and
Never look back
Never look back

What would I do?
What would I do?
If I did not have you?

Open up and let me in
Let’s go down the waterfall
Have ourselves a good time
It’s nothing at all
Nothing at all
Nothing at all

Radioheads “I might be wrong” was playing in the background as I walked to the cafeteria, now I know that there is no Radiohead playing-yet I hear it in my head. This was perfectly fine with me because I really enjoy Radiohead. Thing was, If My brain wanted to play a song-it did. Funny relationship-me and my brain. Whenever I felt like doing something really good or really bad, my brain chimes in with some sort of nonsense. It’s always like “Got to keep the balance between good and evil.” Or “Can’t mess with existence too much, right?” And this was a doozy, “Stay in one place-don’t move too much or you’ll get hurt…” Whatever my brain says though-I usually ignore it, I mean being crazy is ignoring what your brain tells you. That annoying Unsure-of-itself small insignificant spineless little wimp didn’t deserve to have control over my body, so I forget about it for now and just listened slightly to Radio head. I knew the song was telling me something about my actions at killing ole’ Cig Maw, but I really didn’t give a flying leap off of a lion’s nose. I passed an inspirational poster on my way out- it said “With our three step program-will have you feelin fine”. I ignored its message and kept going.

Finally I arrived at Ye ole Café’. In seriousity though (Seriousity is my word by the way, it means like seriously) The Café’ was nothing but a dingy ole Cafeteria, but ya had to ignore the Acoustics and dig the food instead. I Went to the front of the line, (Mainly because no one else was moving) and got myself some potato pancakes and tater tots and also a baked potato- my usual by the way. It was when I was eating my grub heading for my usual spot at my table, that something struck me as odd- I remembered Living at some point in Idaho…. I couldn’t quite remember when or why though. The thought was nagging at me with help from my Idiot brain, so I just ignored it.

I sat with my friends Terri, Terry, and Terrie. Also someone else was there- apparently a big bald fellow, I recognized him as a guard but I couldn’t figure out why he was sitting in the seat there in Hospital clothes. I asked before I sat down, “Yo-Yo- Ma, What the hell ya doing here Fella? Why would a guard sit at this table?” And the guard suddenly got up and swore loudly then ran crying to the exit of the cafeteria. Terri-the only guy at the table besides him, a large balding fat guy pyromaniac who looked sort’ve like Mel brooks said, “Ah…What’d ya do that for Spinnin, He thought he could dress up like a craze bird and spy on us!” Upon Terri’s calling of my name (I realized that my name was in fact Spinnin-Spinnin Wround.) and his calling of the slang term Craze bird (A term used to show the difference between Flock birds and craze birds, Craze birds being US and Flock birds being the Majority known as THEM, personally I just preferred saying “Us’ And “Them”) I became quite confused, which was unusual even for me. I asked him, “ Say Terri, why did you let that guy get away with that anyway?” Terry- a young kleptomaniac with short pink hair said, “Because It was his dream as a guard to be a spy on Craze birds, and now you’ve ruined it!” I realized how crazy I was (And how!) for being so mean to Mr. Guard and said, “Gee Guys-I’m sorry…” And Terrie-a middle-aged woman who was a Nymphomaniac said, “Ah it’s alright sugah, I only wanted him here for Company.” By the way, I usually refer to these three as “Mel brooks”, “Crow” and “Lovely”.

So I sat with my three friends and told them about how my day went (Just for clarification, I first got up- went to work, came home and slept for three hours) and then they told me of their days, Mel Brooks had apparently been walking around in the supply wing smashing fire extinguishers for some stupid reason I couldn’t understand, and Crow had been looking through her different watches hidden in the ripped padding of her Room. Truth was, the repairman would come in while she was gone and fix it without looking deep enough for stolen stuff and then when she returned she would rip it again then the Repair man would come back and fix it and she would rip it again (It was an endless cycle). Finally Lovely told me of a confrontation with one of the Feds in the Washroom which led too CENSORED. As you can guess from the big Censored sign before this line, a lot of nasty stuff happened in the washroom…


Crow was staring at me strangely the entire time we were all talking, she seemed distracted, like something was nagging at her about me. But I didn’t care. At the time I didn’t.

After talking to my friends- a small golden bell (which they replaced constantly do to Crow), rung above them, and I big good-bye to Terri, Terry and Terrie. As I started to walk out of the Cafeteria I slipped on a potato wedge and landed on my back-hitting my head on a table-I was out instantly.  

[The Mayor of Nowhere]

Spinnin Round aka Not crazy

Three’s Company

You ever had a dream where no matter what was happening, you had absolutely no control over it? I was having one of those visions of nonsensical crap; it was like my brain was completely in control of all my actions in the dream. And the worst part is, it’s the sort of Hallucination (Because that’s all it really is) that you knew had happened before. But you’re damned to remember to tell yourself Hey man! Don’t listen to your brains ideas on dreams before ya hit the hey-cuz they suck worse than teenage angst poems! I hated Angst poems so you’d think I’d know to stop myself from letting my brain take control of me. But no…that never happened.

In my dream, I would be in some big red brick building with white Romanesque pillars. I would run out crying and sobbing as if my whole world had just been vanquished by God itself. The weirdest part is that there was blood on my hands, and all over my face like I’d just fell into a pool of slaughtered pigs. All these images of Fields full of nothing but wheat. They made absolutely no sense, course it was a dream... There were two highways void of all vehicles. The highways went by each other but somehow I knew that they both went in different directions. I was heading in the opposite direction away from the Red brick building. I knew all these things from where I (The dreaming I, not the guy who was me in the dream- Yah I know its confusing...) was in the sky, way way above. From there I was sightseeing upon creation- and believe me it was more surreal than anything. There I was traveling down one highway, I was sun burnt badly and the blood had dried to a point where a strange haze of crumbly brown stuff was boiled onto my skin. Walking slowly, each step threatening to be my last, I looked like Desperation incarnate.

From my post up in the cloudy clouds I could see closer at myself walking about and saw that he was carrying something. But the farther I tried to see into the dream was interrupted by a whip snap that echoed across the dreamy wheat fields. But this time, unlike my other dreams-I tried to control myself, to a point where sweat beaded on my sleeping body (No one had even paid attention to the fact that I was lying unconscious with my head bleeding on the Café floor). But no matter how I tried, this ring started-a terribly harsh grating sound. I started hearing Radioheads “I might be wrong” again, (gee Ya think My brain could pick some other tunes once in a while) but it was faint because of the ringing. And it grew Louder that was the worst part.

Finally I heard my own voice sound out with the ring across the plains repetitively saying, “This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong.” It sounded as if I was listening to all the screams of hells damned souls the way I felt. But something new happened in the dream. Something I hadn’t expected, just as I started to wake, I heard the repeating voice add at the end of its nonsensical monotone hymn. “And I am Right….”