Frenemies

Six o’clock. I’m going with the flow of the day. It’s a lot easier without enemies. I used to be surrounded by people who thought using your brain was a sin. Certainly nobody with schizophrenia should ever prove to be intelligent. I remember some terrible times with both of my siblings, but I think my brother was worse. One December he came to Eugene and booked a room at the Motel 6 off of Gateway Street. We stocked the refrigerator with seasonal ales and mostly just watched the tube. We had dinner at Carl’s Jr. and I really didn’t feel comfortable. He said something mean about my dad, which was normal for him.

The years 2008 to 10, before I met Kate, were the most desolate of my life. The only friends I had were really enemies in spirit, so I would call them “frenemies.” I’m not in touch with any of those people now, thank goodness. They had such tunnel vision and closed minds. It was a kind of prejudice with them to make money an end in itself. They called this the real world and could not imagine anything better. Essentially they were Republicans, but imo they were spiritually blind. My brother’s idea of enlightenment was to get drunk. On my end, I wasn’t aware that people existed who were not like these frenemies. For convenience, they are called idealists, and the latter are materialists and capitalists.

My sister sneered the word “idealistic” to me like an accusation of sin at the time of my birthday in 2007. She doesn’t remember that now, but I know she hasn’t changed. She thought I was just an idle and naive dreamer, and such people as I had no place in the world. To her mind, visionaries had no common sense. The least people on earth were poets and musicians. I should have reminded her that her Bible was full of the visions of prophets. Furthermore, that prophets still exist in the world today; we call them poets and artists of every genre. But it would have been like arguing with a statue or a mannequin. I’ve concluded that my sister has faith in a very lifeless version of Christianity, one as statuesque as herself. It’s known as a dogma…

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