The Good Lord Bird and Schizophrenia
The Man fails where The Good Lord Bird succeeds. Nothing is a given here and nothing should be taken at face value. The Man pretends where The Good Lord Bird reeks of authenticity. There is a dog on the bed with an ear protruding upwards and the small thumps in the downstairs. I once believed the Thumps ( And many other Things. ) to be dripping with an inherent meaning and the world itself conspired towards and away from my place in it. They have me hopped up on something because the Thumps mean nothing and the dreams mean everything, these days.
The Man cried in the hospital. Cried and cried. Moaned and wailed and another man nearby moaned and wailed for him to stop and then it was waiting. Always the waiting in the hospital room for the next thing. The Man wondered why the uncomfortable had to be so Uncomfortable and then the Man’s parents visited and there was much crying all around. A new diagnosis came shortly. Or was it before then?
The Good Lord Bird knows nothing of diagnoses. The Good Lord Bird is up in the afternoon and down in the summertime. It is always very hot here in the summertime. I always wondered about that. Do other people feel it the way I do? Is it always very hot for them as well or do people have a tendency to reject the evidence of their eyes and ears? The Good Lord Bird is unsure. Remember that the street signs are directing you towards your ultimate goal. In my case, it was one of those blue light telephones. They never work, mind you, if they don’t hang up on you they roll their eyes and laugh. They like to make fun of you as it’s happening. The Good Lord Bird thinks this is to be expected.