There was a period in my life where I was suffering crippling loneliness combined with PTSD and an alcohol/porn addiction in which I would go to places like White Castle and order food for two, sit by myself in a booth, talking to an invisible "waifu" who talked back to me in my own head, would always get weird looks when i would inevitably get a box for the second meal, take it home, drunkenly eat it in the morning and crying even more when I realized how alone I truly was. I wonder if any of the regular patrons saw me eating alone with two meals and thought maybe I was hung up on some dead lover or something.

Once you reach that level of loneliness it's hard to force yourself to wear a mask of sanity. I was a scat man then and I am a scat man now, but there was a time where my mental health was so bad that I would follow my nose at the local park to the piles of dog poop, smear them on an array of dolls and cardboard cutouts and pretend that I was in the midst of a japanese orgy, not to say that the japanese are particularly scatty but their scat porn tends to be that which is more sensative and loving and more catered to my needs than the raw aggression of german scat. Anyway, when I was "the scatman" and pulling the restaurant stunt and the park stunt, I was slipping to a place mentally where I would go out and forget to put clothes on, I would throw my shoes away constantly, and even glued a blown up photo of Katy Perry at the kid's choice awards on my TV with the colors made negative so that when I got fucked up enough I could stare at the photo for a while and look at a white wall and have an image of Katy, head spinning and vision fading, just enough to have a quick beat and then almost realizing that I wouldn't be able to watch "Drake and Josh" because I ruined my own TV.

My dance with insanity ended when I found that by acting like a normal human being, I could find fulfillment and make myself whole by attending asian massage parlors, who won't accept people smeared in shit foaming at the mouth and raving about the Kid's Choice Awards. Gradually my thoughts and memories came back to me but every now and then I order for two at White Castle, have a good cry, and call a nice lady up to come over and maybe shit on my chest.