content warning: sexual harassment, stalking, mental health shaming
Someone did a bad thing. He sexually harassed a young person and stalked her. So much bad behavior. Ming and I were hearing about it from a witness. “He’s just delusional,” the witness said.
I was sad about the bad behavior, and I was curious about the perpetrator being called delusional. After we heard about it, Ming and I had a conversation.
“He must think the young woman likes him back,” I explained to Ming.
“Maybe,” Ming said.
delusions
“Everyone’s delusional,” I said. “Just about different things. Depends on how harmful or helpful the delusion is.”
Hmm, that seemed a bold thing to say. But I thought of capitalism, and how most people behave as if money is real. There are mass delusions, and more private ones.
The main problem is the violence. If this dude was delusional that his head was full of butterflies, that could be ok. Or if he thought he was a race car driver, or the reincarnation of Abe Lincoln, that’s not necessarily a problem.
Kind of like addiction. The addiction of my family or origin isn’t the problem–the problem is the violence. Related, but not the same thing.
consent is sacred
Consent is sacred, and I’m happy to be a Consent Priestess. I’ll do ritual, teach classes, and model it every day.
Consent is an important part of love and respect. More sacred than fresh hazelnuts, purple tiedye, Easter lilies, and cows.
crazy
Mental health gets blamed for bad behaviors. But there are so many ways to be crazy. Right?
Today I was walking by myself to the downtown Berkeley Public Library to meet a zinester friend. Ming had dropped me off and was going to park. Slowly I walked down the sidewalk, passing a homeless-looking man who sat on a bench surrounded by stuff.
“What people don’t understand is–it’s happening now–it’s happening all around us. Not 2026, but 2022. Star Wars is happening now! No one will admit it. But all of that is coming together! It’s just a matter of the…” he said.
His voice didn’t get louder then quieter–felt like his voice was sort of following me. So maybe he was turning his head as I passed. Maybe he could tell I was listening despite my lack of eye contact, as I approached the doors of the library.
sense
Just because someone is homeless, talking to themself on a bench, doesn’t mean they’re wrong. I’d like a master’s degree in paranoid chatter. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you, even a stopped clock is right twice a day, and I never promised to make sense for you.
I felt mild affection for the bench sitter, but I was happy to enter the library for the task at hand. There but for the grace of god go I.
This blog could be similar–I’m also a crazy person chattering her opinions to anyone who will listen. The bench is the website, and you are passing by on the internet.
Maybe a pretty phrase makes your ears perk up, and there you go. I’m not taking my medicine either.
sweet canaries
I’ve heard of crazy people being the canaries in the coal mines. We are more sensitive, so the toxic gas gets us first.
But our society is built on hardcore denial. Most people are not looking for truth. Signs of collapse are what they would like to dodge, not pay more attention to.
We all know the ship’s going down, but feels too late to weave enough rafts. So most people are pretending that weird sound didn’t happen, and the irregular motion of the ship is meaningless. They are wondering what to order for dinner, while in the back of their mind, they know there might not be dinner.
What are your delusions, and do you enjoy them?
What do you want for dinner? I want rice and spinach with tofu and sesame-justice sauce.
