Illogic Model

You would think that if you heard voices all the time, in the most impossible places and situations, your brain would figure out that it was a delusion and you'd be able to move on from it. Wouldn't you? Somehow that wasn't my experience with drug-induced auditory hallucinations. The more far-fetched they became, the more I found shreds of logic to convince me they were real.

[About the song: This is a perfect example of my insanity. At the 3:21 mark there is a really, really faint noise (you might not even be able to hear it) that I SWORE was someone saying my name. And I would listen repeatedly and every time I would be even more sure that it was my name. The only thing I couldn't figure out was how they got it on the song because Tamyra Gray recorded it years before they started harassing me. It's still a mystery.]

One thing I would always say is, “They say things I don't know.” What was probably true was that they said things that I didn't consciously remember knowing. I certainly couldn't prove a negative. I'm absolutely certain I never heard that before is a claim I liked to stubbornly make, but really how on earth can you know that for sure. Especially when you're hearing it in your own head. What is interesting to me is that it's still just natural for me to write, “What was probably true....”

That's because there is still a small (really, really small but still there) part of me that isn't fully convinced that NONE of it was true. In the back of my mind, there is always this notion that some part of it might have been real. Never mind that there's just no way it could be. I have all these little bits floating around that still don't make sense.

Like the time I was in Philly – the night before I went to rehab in fact – and I called for a cab. I gave the woman the address where I was and asked how long it would be. After she told me, she thanked me and called me by my name. Totally freaked me out. Any rational person would assume he gave his name during the phone call and just forgot. Not me. I was certain I hadn't given my name. I insisted (to “them”) that I remembered the entire conversation and I had definitely never said my name. I was so sure of it that I canceled that cab and called a different cab company. I'd be damned if I were going to give my business to people who were cooperating with my enemies.

This other time I got into a cab in Manhattan and, as I was prone to doing, passed out almost immediately upon sitting down. It really didn't matter what type of moving vehicle I was in, or even whether I was driving or not; I virtually always fell asleep. This particular time, I woke up with the cab driver poking me. “You're home.” What? I never even gave him the address. How the hell did we get here. Fuck. They told him where I live. Oh. Now they've gone too far.

That's what it was like over and over and over. Simple things that could easily be explained away by a lapse in memory. But instead I clung to those threads as evidence that they really had implanted a two-way radio chip in my head and a camera in my eye. It was as though there was no possible way that I could ever forget something, even though I did all the time. BUT, it was completely plausible that the police or the DEA or some unknown enemy had not only enlisted the help of everyone I knew to drive me crazy, but they actually invented technology to do it.

Wouldn't you like to be that important one day?