It’s when you smell that smell that you know that you’re back.Then you hear the whirr and the clank and that omnipresent hum, and you realize that the nightmare factories are operating again, an endless shift with an unchanging workforce.And then you see.You see the nightmare factories from your regular perspective on the ground, dimly lit with jaundiced yellow phosphor, and then somehow you are above them, almost, but this quickly becomes inside them.And you see the things that work the machines, and what they make with the machines, and then you see the other things that scuttle out to trim off the waste.And they throw the waste into little gutters that run down the sides of the nightmare factory floor where a tide of filth sweeps the scraps along and through a grate and into the pipes that lead to the outside.
And then you are outside, and you are before the bad house, isolated in the spotlight in its strange alcove surrounded by the nightmare factories.And you see the pipes that rise from the ground and into the bad house, and you make the connection.And you don’t go into the bad house, any more than you went into the nightmare factory, but nonetheless you are there.And you see the irrigation system that waters a monstrous garden with the runoff from the factory floor, and you see the tanks filled with that same murky substance and the things that swim in it and live in it, and then, further back in the bad house you see the shadows.Three shades flit back and forth impatiently inside the bad house, and behind them another shadow, vaguer, larger, subsumes the other three in its darkness when it rises.And you can feel the impatience, and you can feel the anticipation, and you can feel the joy in the knowledge that a time of waiting is finally over.
Then you wake up, oddly suffused with that vicarious joy, and when it slowly dawns on you why that joy exists you begin to shake and you can’t stop.
Hey folks! Once again, Rhoda Penmarq has turned my Hap Dixon story (kind of a Hardy Boys set in Twin Peaks) into a thing of surreal beauty. Chapter Two is up here right now! Please go see!
Over the course of the next few days KG learns that he had every right to be apprehensive about the Paxil withdrawal.It’s not as bad as it was made out to be on the depression / anxiety boards; it’s actually worse.The constant crying jags and the feeling of being on the edge of losing control at any time would be enough in itself.What pushes Paxil withdrawal up and over into a whole new world of “discomfort” are the physical effects, which are formidable.Walking results in strange electric shocks that shoot up from KG’s heel in a direct line to the top of his skull.His skin becomes so hot and prickly at times that he wishes he could just tear it all off.His jaw aches with a strange feeling akin to chewing on tinfoil, and needless to add, his sleep is disturbed in several different, original ways.
As background to this torture, however, are the first stirrings of something else, which KG can only assume is the Comaxyn.Between rushes of withdrawal symptoms he goes through periods of an almost placid centering, and has become self-aware enough (to the point of self-absorption) due to his mental illness that he is able to discern the new pacifying effect of the Comaxyn from a momentary respite from the Paxil withdrawal.KG spends a lot of time on the anxiety/depression boards this week, trying to find anything that can tell him how to shorten/lessen the withdrawal effects, but seemingly the only curative is time.He continues to find little on Comaxyn either except for messages from others who are trying it out for the first time and looking for more information.KG simply joins their ranks and waits until he can gauge how well it is working for him before he posts any kind of personal assessment.Additionally, he sends an e-mail apology to Matty.
Other than this there is work, and work is slow and unsatisfying.KG does more smoking and fretting than usual, and finds his mind drifting to terrible places if he does not quickly take it in hand.He ends up relying on a technique taught to him by an old counselor (not a very good one) who stated that a good way to address intrusive thoughts and painful memories is to get some distance on them by ranking the memories in terms of “most devastating” to “least devastating” and thereby putting yourself in a judgmental position outside the emotional context.KG has had limited success with this technique in the past but has run out of other ideas and energy to fight.So he begins whittling the chaos in his head down into the Top 3 Most Devastating Things Ever Said to KG.After an arduous elimination round, he finally lists them in ascending order:
3. “You don’t fucking love me.You love your...condition.”
2. “You know when would’ve been a better time to figure all this out, Cage?Anytime before right now.Literally anytime.”
And coming in strong at Number One:
1. “We’re all alone, kid.Always.”
By the time the week crawls to a close KG feels that for once he has truly earned his dinner out at Phuket, the only Thai restaurant in town.He only hopes that he is able to enjoy it.
HEY! Fun collaboration between me (words) and Rhoda Penmarq (amazing childlike, dreamlike visuals) at Cutup Capers! While yr there, check out some of the other amazing work by Rhoda, Bofa and others! Good stuff!
I’m in the City.I’m at an outdoor café, and it’s daytime.I meet a man there.There is something wrong with his eyes.We talk for awhile (don’t know about what) and although he smiles the entire time, I’m pretty sure he wants to hurt me.I wake up upset, like the dream was somehow scarier or sadder than it was.
February 18th
I go to see Mom in the hospital.She’s really pleasant, acting happy, but we both know she’s going to die.Her nurse comes in, blonde, very beautiful, but I think she is retarded.She keeps spilling things, knocking Mom’s tray over.I ask Mom if she wants a new nurse and she just shakes her head and smiles.The nurse replaces her IV, and although it goes into the tube okay by the time it reaches her arm it is gray and polluted.Mom starts shaking, seizing up, her eyes roll back.I scream at the nurse to stop it, I get up and try to pull it out of Mom’s arm but it won’t come.The nurse just giggles.I wake up crying.
April 24th
A party in some attic.Dave and the rest of the band are there, and things are good between all of us.There aren’t many people, but the girls whose house this is are pretty and nice.For some reason, someone goes to the window and says the ride is here to go to the other party.I look out the window and the guy waiting by the car we’re supposed to take is all black with weird white tattoos all over.I don’t want to go with him.The rest of the band leaves and so do the girls.I’m left alone in the attic and I start walking through the house, which is huge with really narrow corridors.I find a girl there and she seems scared and upset that I’m still in the house.I apologize and try to leave.I can’t find a way out.
November 28th
I’m in the industrial part of the City, outside of a bad house (Joe’s house?).I want to go in but I’m afraid to, but I still want to know what’s in there.I walk up to the front, but there’s no windows to look in.I try the door; it’s locked.I start feeling really exposed, start walking away quickly.I hear some people behind the house, and I turn back.They come from around the corner, pointing at me.I start running down the street toward the factories.They chase me.I wake up.
October 19th
I’m at Emerson.It’s a party outside the Student Center.Elliot is there, and he’s talking to that black-haired hippie bitch that cock-blocked me at the last Tent Party.They are pointing at me and laughing.I can’t find anyone I know and when I do they’re not interested or don’t remember me.I think it’s the Menage a Trois party because some people are wearing costumes and I am too, but mine doesn’t fit.This guy and his girlfriend (I don’t remember either of them from Emerson) come up and tell me there’s a better place we can go.I’m so lonely and uptight that I go with them.There’s something wrong with the guy’s eyes.We walk over to their car and the driver gets out.He’s black and gray and has these weird tattoos all over.I get scared and go back to the party; they yell after me.When I come back around the corner the party’s over, but there’s a movie playing outside on the wall back by the Music building (what movie?).
March 27th
I’m hanging out with Mark at a record store (high school?) in the City.It’s not the Record Mine, it’s a lot bigger, but its got the same kind of posters (Blondie, Rundgren) on the walls and the ceiling.I find all the old Funkadelic records, great condition, but I don’t have any money.Mark buys this Electric Prunes record, a double album of “Mass in F Minor, Second Movement” (doesn’t exist).We go back to his mom’s house to play it and there aren’t any records in the jacket.It’s too late to go back, the record store’s closed.
So it’s a 20 minute trip into town, 45 minutes in the waiting room, and now 35 minutes so far in the little examination room KG was led to through the maze of prefab hallways and computers and med carts behind the Checkpoint Charlie of the front desk.And then, Doctor William Hennig sweeps into the room, deftly checking the chart as he pirouettes to close the door.He beams at KG as he takes a seat and clicks open his pen.
“Hello, Mister...Granta!Would you rather I call you Kevin, or..?”
Shrugs amiably.“I usually go by KG.”
Makes a quick note on the file.“KG?You got it.You can call me Doctor Bill.”
KG gives him a weak smile.“Okay, Doctor Bill.”
Eyes dart back to the chart.“So you-are-in-for...a med change.”The doctor turns slightly, pulls his most sympathetic face, touches KG lightly on the arm.“The Paxil’s not working for you anymore, huh?”
“No, like I told the nurse, it’s been working less and less all the time.”
“Yeah, it’s been...what...”Again Doctor Bill looks at the chart.“5, 6 years about?”
“About that.”
“It’s pretty typical for that medication to run its course in just about that time period.”Doctor Bill rips the Velcro on a blood pressure sleeve, gestures to KG’s right arm.KG pulls up his shirt sleeve and offers his arm to the doctor who wraps it in one quick motion.“The question now...”The doctor pumps, holds, releases.“Good!The question now is: what next?”
KG shrugs.“You tell me.”
“You’re looking to continue on medication.”More a statement than a question.
“Yeah.Yes, absolutely.”
“Well, then you’ve got two choices.On the one hand, we’ve got Lexapro.Same family as Paxil, same basic results, fewer side effects.”
“No vivid dreams?”
Doctor Bill grins.“No.None of that on Lexapro.”
KG grimaces.“No, you misunderstand.I want that.I’ve really missed that since the Paxil started becoming ineffective.”
Doctor Bill raises his eyebrows, tilts his head in a very parental manner.“KG, I’m in the business of prescribing medications, not side effects.”
KG, embarrassed: “I...used a lot of the stuff from my dreams in my work, that’s all.”
“That’s right, you’re a...musician?”Looks at the chart.
“Right.”
Chipper.“Well, sir, you’re just going to have to find your inspiration elsewhere.”The glib way he just dismisses what was, to KG, incredibly important.“Your other option, which, unfortunately for you, also does not result in vivid dreams, is Effexor.With Effexor you get a combination effect because it consists of an SSRI and an SNRI.”
“Another type of reuptake inhibitor?”
“That’s right.Norepinephrine.”Impressed that KG knows the terminology.“Again, far fewer side effects compared to Paxil, but it’s a gradual slide in compared to the Lexapro, which should kick in pretty quickly.”
“Which is...which is going to help more with the Paxil withdrawal?”
“Hmph.Well, I mean...”
“Because from what I’ve read, it’s a real bitch.”
“Ha ha.Well, yes, it’s...there is going to be a certain level of...discomfort...with the change.That-is-not...something you’re going to be able to avoid.”
KG sighs.“Right.So it really doesn’t matter.”
“Not for that part, no.But you should see a quicker turnaround on Lexapro, or a more gradual, gentler intro with the Effexor.”
“Hmm.”KG is just afraid of the Paxil withdrawal, and is having difficulty making any choices.Doctor Bill mistakes his silence for something else.
“We-e-ell, there is something else we could try, but although the test results were all very effective, the jury’s still out on the long-term effects.But the side effects should line up nicely with what you’re looking for.”Smiles.“All kinds of dream-stuff going on with this one.Of course, most people don’t want that, but in your case – hey, to each his own.”
“What’s it called?”
“Comaxyn.I’ve got some literature on it, and we got a bunch of samples when it was approved earlier this week, so if you want to give it a try it’s very possible for us to make that happen.”
“I’ve never heard of it except for an item I saw online just this morning.”
“As I said, it’s real new, just approved, so I don’t have the kind of long-term studies available that I have for the other two.But again, vivid dreams are the only noted side effect so far, so it may be just what you’re looking for.”
KG thinks for a moment.The doctor gets up.
“So, is Comaxyn what we’re going with?”He looks at KG expectantly.KG never fails to be amazed by the speed with which medical personnel expect patients to make decisions about incredibly powerful drugs which can literally change your mind.He sighs.
“Sure, Comaxyn.That’s fine.”
Doctor Bill smiles.“Okay then.Now, I say this to all my patients taking psychiatric medications, and you are no exception: a combination of medication and therapy has consistently proved to be...”
KG waves him off.“Yeah, no, I’m good.I mean, I’ve tried it a bunch of times.I’m kind of...therapied out.You know?”
“Okay, then.”That obvious requirement out of the way, the doctor moves to the door.“The nurse will be right in with the samples and the brochures, and I’ll want to see you back in...three weeks?”He looks back at KG, who nods.“Just drop the Paxil by 100mg everyday for the next three days, then open with the Comaxyn starter pack on Thursday.”He puts out his hand to shake; KG takes it.“Just make your appointment at the desk on your way out.”Doctor Bill smiles.“Stay well.”
“Right.”
The doctor spins out the door and into the claustrophobic maze of the receiving rooms.
