A Random Brainfart by Hilarity J. Blinkstein
Hi, I'm Hilarity (Hi, Hilarity), and it's been two weeks since my last coherent thought. As it happens, I'm insane. Looney, raving, madder than Ed Anger. I figured this out after mind-bending amounts of therapy and buckets of money trying to get a grip, trying to quiet the voices in my head, be still my bleating brain. And I shed a ton of tears, had several cows, and generally was ready to write ``Hell'' on my change-of-address forms, so involved was I in that life-long quest for that psychological Holy Grail -- Sanity. Sanity will make everything okay, won't it? Once I'm sane, the answers will be clear, I'll finally be happy, I'll finally get respect, right? Better seats in restaurants, birds singing, banners flapping in the wind, right? Right?
      Boy, are you stupid if you buy that. Sanity's a crock. Sanity can bite me if it could find me, which it can't. Sanity is the Greyface of the Psyche. You spend all this effort taking your brain so seriously. Like it's some big profound mystical thing. You know what? It is. The human mind is vast and chaotic and unexplainable and wonderful. Why on Earth would you want to stifle all that glorious chaos by trying to label it? To figure out why blue is your favourite colour or why you have dreams about having sex with your cocker spaniel? Baby, take what you got and run with it. Stop fighting the parts of your brain that make you think you're crazy -- embrace them! They don't hate you -- they just want a better rap and some attention. Take them out for a drive on Sundays. Ride with the top down. Take all that energy you spend trying to take your id and instead teach it to play hopscotch. Boing, boing, boing. Sanity as a virtue is a BIG LIE, capital letters. To Hell with the cerebrum -- listen to your Pineal Gland! (It will probably kick in by default after you stay up for two days reading The Tick.)
      Do whatever you want. Be sane, be insane, be-bop-a-luva. It's all relative anyway. Everyone thinks you're crazy? What do they know, and why do they think ``Power Rangers'' is art? Chaos and Discord are as beautiful within as they are without. Remember, if you take the ``U'' out of ``Freud,'' you get ``Fred,'' which must mean something. Stop being afraid of what you might find if you strip away your rationality. Boldly go etcetera etcetera! Rip the fabric of your own reality and make yourself a sweater. Your brain does not hate you. And if it does -- fuck it. It's yours. Make friends with it, tickle its fancy, take it dancing. Practice brain-erosion. Entropy and Eris are second cousins, or at least they both start with an ``E.'' Entropy will take care of itself. Burn the field so the grass can grow, but let it grow any way it wants, weeds and all.
      Love (or at least appreciate) everything for what it is. And if you can't figure out what it is, don't worry about it. Go from having a cow to having a Sacred Chao. It's much more fun.
      You are a miracle. You are unique and wondrous and generally silly. Let go. Become. Be. Hail Eris.