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Living with Schizoaffective Disorder
Putting the Smackdown on an alleged Scientist.

Useless Bint Emits Medical Advice

Kids, Don't Try This At Home.
Try It At Caltech Instead.

"What happened?" asked Jason Pawloski.
"I mouthed off to a judge," I replied.

Michael David Crawford, Baritone,

Copyright © 2019 Michael David Crawford. All Rights Reserved.

Thursday, March 14th, 2019
Vancouver, Washington

Inquires my much-older, admittedly far-wiser mentor Stefan Pietrzak Youngs:

You OK?

Not this week but in general, when I disappear I have either been Arrested or Admitted.

When Admitted, to the extent I can I will ask that my Brother-In-Law Stan Evans of Moscow Idaho's Stan Evans Computing let you know.

When Arrested, Kuro5hin knew to check the jail rosters wherever I last reported myself to be and so some would send me much-beloved letters.

One - a Kuron I figured but honestly do not know - sent me court opinions quite unlawfully torn from Courthouse Law Library texts, hardcopies of bible passages and even an award-winning Science Fiction story in which a Mad Physicists becomes obsessed with the fact - and yes, this is readily demonstrable - not so much "a million monkeys at typewriters" as true - quantum, not mechanical nor cybernetic - random number sequences will eventually reproduce The Complete Works Of William Shakespeare. Said Physicist was sentenced to a State Forensic Hospital - I've been in two on four occasions, Washington's Western State and California's Atascadero State - for his theft of government computing resources, those being used to exhaustively search the Plutonium at Texas' Pantex Nuclear Weapons Plant for English Text.

Check it out:

He found some, which text quite clearly meant something significant yet only enigmatically so. That kind of thing is what makes us Psychotics Psychotic.

To be clear: to find patterns where none exist, as depicted in "A Beautiful Mind": Nobel Economics Prize Laureate and Princeton University Mathematician John Forbes Nash's relentless search for the Communist Infiltration of popular magazine articles.

The Communists in reality conducted all manner of Conspiracies as did us G-Fearing Americans; I've long been convinced that one such Communist Conspiracy led to the widespread availability of Child Pornography in America long before the Internet was ever dreamt of.

It happens that the Central Intelligence Agency has quite an extensive and completely unclassified public-facing website. Much of the material therein concerns the quite-desperate struggle of the Intelligence Analyst to avoid permitting their own Personal Biases to adulterate their Analyses.

Whenever I'm the guest of some county I can only call my mother due to the puzzling FCC regulation that does not permit collect calls to mobile phones; if Mom - as is her wont - regards me as Guilty As Sin, she will refuse either to tell anyone else that I'm in the slammer nor to give me anyone else's number, thereby holding me captive herself.

Hilarity is likely to Ensue before the Courts, as for example, upon a Jailhouse Lawyer having pointed out that when the Clerk demands one "state your name for the record", one's failure to comply results in said Court's inability to proceed. Now one will not be let off rather one's Custody Division Deputies - quite likely howling with laughter - will hustle one off to one's home away from home, eventually to return for yet another round.


"State your name for the record."

"Mine eyes hath seen the glory of the coming of the Lord,
He is trampling out the vintage where the Grapes Of Wrath are stored,
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword,
His Truth is marching on!"

Good Times.

That I kept this wall-flattening, window blowing-out Choral Performance up for I Am Absolutely Serious: months led my Prosecuting Attorney - they're not DAs in the State of Washington - to grow weary of my quite powerful, resonant and so well-projected Baritone, with my Judge having dismissed my case despite there having been no Motion entered to actually do so.

Get This:

I have no clue as to what I was actually charged with. Surely there was some reason but I'll be Damned if I can figure out what it was.

As for this particular week: Stefan's not the only one concerned for my well-being, my dear old friend Susy Fleisher Parker of UC Santa Cruz' Porter College asked the same question not of me but of her other Facebook friends.

To Wit:

As widely reported in the press, Facebook was down for me today, but the last few days I have been enjoying my - as diagnosed by Dominican Santa Cruz Hospital's Mental Health Unit's Intake Psychologist Joan Junqueira - Shamanism:

"Why are you here?"

"I have gone through The Looking-Glass."

"I don't understand."

"We are on a Chessboard. You are on the White Squares; I am on a Black Square."

(In my May 2010 Escape Artistry Tutorial - being quite clumsy, I cannot make coins and cards disappear but even so can in many ways put Houdini himself completely to shame - Exit Strategy: HOWTO Put the Drop on a Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit, I denote this phenomenon as "Speaking In Code", and point out that many but certainly not actually all Mental Health Professionals if not actually fluent at Speaking In Code themselves, readily understand it themselves.

That I quite facilely Speak In Code even when Asymptomatic I leads to my ability to manipulate the minds of others so as to for example make Schizophrenics stop Hallucinating just by talking to them. While in my own actual experience well-understood by the Mental Health Community and at times actually employed by just a few in the course of their daily work, for anything other than Psychotropic Medication to halt Psychosis is regarded - incorrectly - even by many otherwise well-read Mental Health Professionals as Clinically Impossible.)

"I understand that in more-traditional cultures, the Schizoaffectives are the Shamans."


To that very instant my whole entire existence made no sense whatsover to anyone at all, let alone to me. I shall never forget that Dr. Junquiera pointed that fact out to me on April 4th, 1994, at the end of my first week of Physics Graduate School at the University Of California Santa Cruz.

My life is by no means easy, but in my own estimation - but not even remotely that of others - my life makes perfect sense to me now.

Kids Don't Try This At Home:

I attribute Moctezuma's powerful intelligence to his taste for Chocolatl, "a frothy mixture of chocolate and chili peppers". As my Capsaicin Training lapsed long ago I would find actual Chocolatl... challenging... but have for example mixed several heaping tablespoonfuls of dry Hershey's Cocoa into Pancake Batter as well as otherwise-unflavored Yogurt.

You don't want to do that.

My ultimate conclusion from all this is to - yet again - cite The Basketball Diaries author Jim Carroll, who at a Santa Cruz Poetry Reading in which he was accompanied by keyboard player Ray Manzarek, formerly of The Doors (!), pointed out that "That which doesn't kill me only serves to make me sleep until three in the afternoon".

When employed by Shamans or by those of Traditional Cultures to induce Religious Ecstacy, Chocolate, Datura, Peyote, Cannabis, Opium, Psilocybin and Amanita Muscaria Mushrooms and the like are collectively denoted as "Entheogens" so as to distinguish them from the very same plants - or even animals, as when smoking the dried skin of Australia's notoriously invasive species the Cane Toad - used recreationally.

(Psilocybin is commonly found in cow pastures growing on the patties thereof, while Amanita Muscaria has been found throughout the Santa Cruz Mountains since well before we climbed down out of those trees you and I were once so heavily into swinging around in.)

That I regard the Recreationally Hallucinatory consumption of Hot Peppers as ill-advised is not due to any toxicity on the parts of the eight Capsaicinoids, collectively "Capsaicin". An oily wax, Capsaicin is not corrosive, acidic nor alkaline in any way however Capsaicin Shock will kill you unless - as I - one devotes one's entire life to eating very-gradually yet steadily increasing quantities as well as "hotnesses" - ever-higher Scoville Units - of Peppers.

That I was even so arguably unprepared to chew up then swallow the entire Habanero Chile that my friend and former employer Dave Johnson brought to my home one fine evening is evidenced by the outright convulsions I experienced. Dave offered to call for an Ambulance, but I shook my head and waved my hand to indicate that I preferred to ride out the experience that was Just Like that of a Royal Air Force Pilot who despite specific orders not to do so, took a captured German High-Test Peroxide-Fueled Rocket-Propelled Point Defense Fighter out for a Joy Ride:

"It was just like driving an out-of-control locomotive."

Blessedly - for both of us - brief Joy Rides.

My own interest in Theobromine - "Food Of The Gods" - was to find some way to release myself from The Monkey On My Back, that being fresh strong black hot bitter coffee, in much the same way as I like my women, themselves the sources of much written lamentation on my website.

While not so much the Buzz but the Blow-My-Socks Off Ballistic Arc from Theobromine is not in any way harsh as is the Buzz of Caffeine, when I - quickly - come back down, while I don't actually crash I do quite urgently feel need to sleep.

When eventually I awaken I am - presently as I write this - hung over far, far worse than any manner of Alcoholic.


"This is your brain."

"This is your brain on a Wintry Morn's Hot Cocoa."

And Yes, I really am a Shaman.

That Shamanism is so common throughout history and throughout the world, even in the absence of the perfectly legal Ayahuasca that I shall soon cultivate among the hedges at the Vancouver Police Department's East Vancouver Precinct Station led the American Psychological Association in 1994 to define "Spiritual Emergence" and "Spiritual Emergency" in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders Fourth Edition (DSM-IV).

I experienced both kinds in just one profoundly life-changing hour in late November of 1984:

One evening as I was walking across a parking lot at the California Institute of Technology, I looked up to see a Yin-Yang symbol in the sky stretching from horizon to horizon. Shimmers of energy radiated from Mt. Wilson to the North. I felt a deep chord resonating through my body, the vibration of the Universe penetrating deep into my bones. I was as tall as giant striding across that parking lot that evening.

At that instant I Knew. I knew my Purpose.

I had been walking to my weekly appointment with my therapist in downtown Pasadena. I hurried on to our meeting, and when I arrived I excitedly explained my revelation to her.

"Mike," she replied, "you're not making any sense".

While I have always regarded Dr. Jacqueline "Jackie" Miles of Pasadena's Brentwood Psychotherapy as a Real Gem, not cruelty nor incompetence but her simple unfamiliarity with what had by then been widely accepted by the Mental Health Community for fifteen solid years led to decades of such needless suffering as my having come within but a breath of light wind to falling to my death from the roof of UC Santa Cruz' Natural Sciences II building no more than five months later.

At the time it housed the Physics and Astronomy Departments.

Many years later, I returned, dropped my hat off the side, watched quietly as it fell six storeys then photographed it from the roof where it lay on the ground.

Doubtlessly one of my Mental Health Professionals suggested to the Physics Department that the roof be kept locked, as I was disappointed to find one fine day when I went up to burglarize me some Liquid Nitrogen from the Jesus Big flask kept there.

That Spiritual Emergencies manifest much like the very worst kinds of Psychosis doubtlessly leads to many otherwise-avoidable suicides, prison sentences, homeless folk and Long-Term Psychiatric Admissions.

Happily, that Spiritual Emergence is by now so well documented in the Clinical Citerature results in Spiritual Emergence Counseling being a widely practiced speciality of Clinical Psychology. However I am as yet - in Vancouver, Washington - as yet unable to actually find one.

That my otherwise uncommonly insightful Psychotherapist, Sea-Mar's very, very Russian Elena Herra regards me as far too complex a case for her to competently deal with lead her to refer me to the A.D.E.P.T. Program - a "Day Hospital" in which I will sleep at home then spend my days at PeaceHealth, for the most part engaged in uncommonly-intensive Group Therapy - at the PeaceHealth Southwest Hospital on East Mill Plain.

That for reasons I have by now beaten completely to death, that right around that same time the Washington State Health Authority, doubtlessly skeptical that such a self-employed Consulting Software Engineer as myself could possibly comply with the Medicaid Income Eligibility Criteria, led them to cancel my Washington Apple Health Plan, with the resulting Hilarity Ensuing with Such Great Force that in the space of but a few hours I think two weeks ago, I came up with my very first Academy Award-Winning Screenplay Concept, followed shortly after by no more than five minutes with the macOS Calculator App having won me my long-coveted Nobel Prize In Physics:

I now excrete lucrative Patents on a Damn near continuous basis, but even so remain stricken with grief at a historically-unprecedented tragedy:

I continue to dream up the theories of Physics Nobels, but well over a week ago grew weary of actually writing them down.

Instead, I mostly listen to quite-deafening Rock Music while Power-Slamming Soy Sauce - Central Pontine Demyelinolysis is bad, M'Kay? - in my most-desperate hope of curing my quite likely someday fatal Cheyne-Stokes Respiration - known to the Medical Establishment as "The Death Breath" because such "Stoking" is only found among those with but hours to live - as well as Mainlining Cocoa Powder.

To the best of my knowledge, the Psychiatry and Neurology of Spiritual Emergence are not yet well-understood, however I personally attribute it to the simple yet forceful mechanical jostling that is found in any fluid due to the kinetic energy of its molecules:

The Neurotransmitter Serotonin - abundant when we sleep as well as during relaxation - mediates our "Sense Of Resource Sufficiency" even among plants.

For humans to be deficient in Serotonin thus leads one to feel impoverished, even for a close friend I had there in Downtown Los Angeles, a powerfully-wealthy Precious Metals Broker who attributed all of his vast sums of money to never having enough to meet his expenses.

Thus, whenever he was busted he just got a higher-paying job. Having actually done that myself for well over twenty years leads to my assertion that one is far, far better off dining at the Portland Rescue Mission and sleeping in a tent underneath the elevated section of Interstate 5 on the East Bank of the Willamette River.

Again: I have actually done both myself. My tent was a happy home for me.

Back to mechanical jostling. Remember mechanical jostling?

The speed of air molecules at room temperature is roughly seven hundred miles per hour. Thus to heat a chemical or mixture thereof - commonly but not actually always - leads to the increase rates of chemical processes.

Have a look at the chemical structures of each of the following as found in Wikipedia:

Not all Entheogens are the products of Indole, for example Peyote's Mescaline - readily prepared in the kitchen from Black Tea, as I was overjoyed to learn from Wikipedia just last Sunday! - does not have an Indole Ring, rather it is a Phenylethylamine.

Biochemically it is synthesized by the - for us: non-essential - Amino Acid Tyrosine. If you look up Tyrosine's structure at Wikipedia, you will note that it has a six-Carbon Benzine Ring. To one such Carbon is attached a Hydroxyl Group - a very simple sub-molecule of just one Hydrogen and just one Oxygen.

For reasons I have not yet looked into, Plant Polyphenols are Damn near every last one of them powerfully reactive in a vast multitude of ways for good and for bad, the miraculous and the evil. As I am now experiencing one of my many relentless attacks of The Wearies, I shall elucidate Plant Polyphenol Bioreactivity in some other Wall Of Text.

During my studies at the Institute, a fellow student and a "Darb" - or member of Dabney House - did not find DMT, rather DMT found him.

After pointing out to my fellow student that smoking DMT was just like smoking burning plastic, the Dimethyltryptamine went on to explain that said Darb had the wrong number of arms, legs, fingers and toes.

While he readily agreed, he was completely overcome with the very worst kind of horror and inconsolable grief because he could not figure out:


Get A Load Of This Shit, Bat Man:

That I think it's the State Of California regards the possession of so much as detectible trace quantities of N,N-Dimethyltryptamine as the very worst manner of criminal offense, said law is widely ridiculed because DMT is a completely naturally occurring chemical found widely throughout the Animal Kingdom and even that of the Plants.

Thus, my Shamanism:

You sorry lot think with Serotonin.

I think with DMT!

I'm not coming round despite having been out of bed for by now five hours. I shall therefore prepare a fresh strong hot black bitter pot of Monkey On My Back - much as I like my women - then shall set out for The 'Bucks so as to relentlessly infringe copyright.

One Last Word:

Doubtlessly Shamanism is at least in my own case genetic, as for example Jeannie - my older sister Bonnie Jean Crawford-Evans - is a witch.

I'll brew that Monkey now, then lie quietly in the dark listening to quite deafening Rock And Roll Music until The Wearies pass.

Coffee won't do it.

Neither will sleep.

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