HST--who said a lot of things--said something like if you're gonna be crazy you gotta figure out a way to get paid otherwise they're gonna lock you tf up.

kinda stuck between a desire to peel apart the inherently capitalist framework of the idea and a valid reluctance to attack fuckin' Hunter S. Thompson from the left but that unhinged mf would have loved the contradiction so let's just acknowledge the truth in the statement and move on: crazy can be a useful tool.

we're all a little crazy in our own way...I just found a good paintjob.

all the time people look at me, dragging my jagged experiences around, hot-pink streaks trailing every step in a world some alleged human beings would rather keep all white...look on and wonder "how dare he" while I wonder how dare you not.

the stains are my art...I know my power.

you see, I am their absolute fucking nightmare: I revel in the mess, the confusion.

Diogenes had it right before Rick did: "their boos mean nothing, I have seen what makes them cheer."

I relish the opportunity to ruin their precious fucking tablecloth...why should they dine in white while many others starve in a morally grey world of their design?

when they're being honest people kinda want that for themselves, they can see how it shakes the sparkling water of all the insufferable fucks that have never suffered.

they may not know they want it, or even understand why they should...but just about every day, they say it with different words: "I wish I could be me too."

at times strangers on the street let the secret slip a bit, let our inner children say "hi" real quick...admit "I like your lightsaber," "those gold shoes are cool," but it's not like my pieces of flair ain't cheap and available...my championship belt is made from pizza boxes, craft scraps, and hot glue...what I'm wearing is confidence and about 13 bucks.

if you've ever wondered how it's done, the methodology is super simple...I am never me enough for me.

even in my eccentricity I demand MORE. MORE color, MORE fervor, MORE experimentation, MORE vibrant madness!

MORE MORE MORE MORE MOOOOOOOOREEEEEEEE

I am the sculptor. I am the sculpture. I will drive a colorful chainsaw into my own flesh just to see a flash of emotion on their disaffected faces.

I will scream and stomp and thrash about until this ENTIRE FUCKING PRISON SHAKES.

you ask me how to unlock this in yourself?

how when you're the one who locked the door?

if the kid you were would be ashamed of the adult you've become, you've got a prisoner problem.

I am not PERFORMATIVE...or rather, maybe I am, but there is no backstage here. all this jazz is ceremonial, manifestations of my deepest beliefs...ostentatious at times, maybe, but no less serious.

this is not a game. this is not a costume. I am so fucking serious it hurts.

ASK ZIZI HOW SERIOUS I AM

maybe the real crazy is paying for water and shelter on the planet where these resources are most abundant...maybe I, in my rainbow face paint, am the sanest man alive.

what is their "sanity" but obedience anyway?

wake up at the right time, don't talk too loud even if you're excited and stick to these subjects when you do, can't eat this food at that time, don't get paint on the walls they'll paint after you move, don't wear these stripes with those stripes. celebrate only on these days, only in these ways, blah blah fucking B L A H

like, what is any of it?? what does it mean, who does it serve, this "calm, dishonourable, vile submission"? have you really grown to like the taste?

who does it benefit for you to neatly arrange yourself from crib to career to casket? it sure ain't you.

what they call "crazy" is often just "hard to ignore." hard to dismiss, to gloss over, hard to exclude, hard not to account for.

I wake up to break it every damn day, break the patterns, break the conditioning, break the silly, pointless rules. the borders and boundaries and bullshit. to rend them and smash them and grind them up into glitter I can blow directly into enemy eyes.

I am not here to profit or prophesize...I'm just here. didn't ask to be born, but I was and I'm gonna enjoy that sometimes...I AM GOING TO.

it could be bloodless if they let it be.

...or maybe I could untie this rainbow-heart flag from 'round my waist and STRANGLE A MF, watch their livened eyes dart with pleading desperation, see them breathlessly beg for the same mercy they would never show, feel their future fade and know in my twisted vision that the world is now a better place.

[the previous segment is fictitious and parodic, I am a writer, please do not try this at home]

...but nah, what's crazy is that in my offstage life people always ask me these stupid fucking NPC questions: "what I do, what I am"...I am all the potential you can hold in two hands that's the fuck what!

I am from beneath the boot of western oppression, I am exactly as old as song and play, my name is whatever it needs to be at the time so you'll hear me clearest...how's that for a bit of flavor text?

crazy???

I sleep when I am tired, I eat when I am hungry, I welcome small talk but only with big spirits. I will tote delight wherever I walk, even if it weighs extra. I will beg and borrow and expropriate as a fact of life because it's pretty much always worth the trip.

maybe one day I'll die. as to whether I lived before then, no such doubt.

...but in the meantime and between-time I AM A HUMAN BEING. IT IS I, THE UPRISING MADE FLESH

I WILL DOUBLE IN SIZE THEN DOUBLE AGAIN UNTIL I AM UNCOUNTABLE

I WILL SPREAD LIKE A SPORE UNTIL WE TAKE BACK THE FIELDS IN A VERDANT INFERNO

I WILL BURN AS HOT AS IT FUCKING TAKES TO WELD US TOGETHER FOREVER

...so see ya tonight if we're crazy enough to meet up.

all power to The People.

--Flor!

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