Due to a temporary lapse in health insurance and, consequently, lack of access to psychotherapeutic meds, I have been unable to write lately. Coherence, for me, is a delicate balance of various anti-psychotic chemicals that somehow tame the beasts that like to wander in the dark.

As bleak as that may sound, it is, at least more interesting than the truth of the matter: I have just been too damn busy. Wouldn’t you rather read about my imagined journey back from the brink of insanity and the comely psychiatric nurse who made it all possible? She believed in my ability to heal and return to a normal, productive life; all the while offering the only comfort that could relieve my tortured soul, frequent sponge baths in the privacy of a candlelit room.

Certainly, your attention is more likely to be captured by the recounting of the pill-switching prank that turned deadly than it would be to hear about my dull working hours. Happy Jimmy was getting on our nerves. It got to the point that everybody on the ward wanted to take him down a peg. Nobody meant for it to go so wrong. Who could have guessed that the boy would suffer such a bizarre drug interaction? It’s not like we had access to a PDR.

If I told you that I had several big projects on short deadlines you would probably move on to something more exciting like a story about the sadistic orderly who learned the hard way that crazy doesn’t necessarily mean stupid. Wally Simmons rushed down the hall to silence the midnight wailings of Rowdy Peppers. His night stick was twitching as he ran, ready to crack skull. As he passed my door the liquid soap spread across the floor caught his attention, but it was too late. The bump on his head wasn’t too bad, but by the time Wally came to he had already swallowed a volatile cocktail of nearly all the meds served on the ward. Everybody chipped in and treated Wally to one of the weirdest nights of his life. The next morning another staff member found him in the nurse’s locker room wearing a calico dress and singing show tunes.

The way I see it, the truth may set you free, but it’s just as likely to put you to sleep first.