New York State of Mind

A couple of years ago my brother told me what is possibly the BEST story I have ever heard in my life. If you know me in real life, you've probably heard this before, but humor me, won't you?

One day, when my brother worked at a certain big-box store in Brooklyn, a customer went into the restroom, took all his clothes off, took a big shit, and then rolled around in the shit, screaming. The police had to be called to take the man away - naked, covered in shit, still screaming. My brother called me that evening to tell me what a disgusting day he'd had, how tired he was of living in Brooklyn, and what a terrible place it was. Little did he know that I would love that story; that it would keep me going some days, that I would tell it over and over to anyone who would listen.

This is the thing: I haven't ever, not once, I mean never, gotten naked, screamed, and rolled around in my own poo in public. Most of the time, I go around feeling socially awkward, fairly weird, kind of unacceptable and freakish. I have some self-esteem issues. I feel like there could be a psychotic break bubbling just under the surface of my MILF-ish exterior. But no matter how insane I might be feeling, I think about this man and feel good about the fact that I am not that far gone yet. It could happen, but not yet. When I'm feeling like a freak, I check myself - have I screamed and smeared my naked body in poo? No? All right then, I'm doing okay.

I want to live in New York City because I think that my people are there. It would comfort me if the person standing next to me on the subway might be about to take his clothes off and smear shit all over himself. I don't want to be surrounded by mild-mannered soccer moms, or even just run-of-the-mill bums and weirdos, all of the time. I need to be where the freakiest freaks are. I can't wait.

P.S. I tried to pull a picture off of the web to go with this post, but strangely enough, when you search Google Images for shit scream smear nothing comes up. Hmph.