A Bat Credit Card!!!????

I feel like this, internally betimes.  I love comedy: it is as a drug that keeps me just-about sane.  Where would King Lear have been without the consolation of the Fool?

Welcome, Dear Reader

Hello all!  I have been contemplating this weblog for some time.  Perhaps it is now time to call this blog out of the realm of conceptions, and into the world of virtual reality.

The thing is: I suffer from mental illness.  At present - though I be able to manage it - it is making my life feel like a living Tartarus.

I have seen what this pestilence of the wits can do to people: It is a Helter Skelter; a slippery slope, if you will.

People start off a little bit neurotic; they suffer some sort of mental collapse; "recover," relapse, and before you know it, they are essentially a zombified vegetable - like unto a watermelon in appearance - and they are no longer half the man or woman that they used to be.

I have seen it happen time without number.  I do not know ANYBODY within my circle of mentally ill friends who have made a full and permanent recovery.

"I have seen 'em come and go and I've seen 'em die; and long ago I stopped asking why."

 Johnny Cash, San Quentin.

However, such is not my destiny: I refuse to believe it, I am far too kind, good-natured and talented for that to happen to me.  By hook or by crook, I shall find a way out.  To this end I have set up this weblog as sort-of like a diary.