Foreword

This story takes place in cyberspace, that ebb and flow of electrons and photons which has captured and enthralled millions across the globe. A part of that ebb and flow is IRC or Internet Relay Chat which is inhabited by more than half a million users on more than seven thousand servers on this particular night. To participate I use the Mirc® application which can be found at http://www.mirc.com. There are a number of good IRC chat programs available but this is not a primer so I will not go into them. Essentially IRC is real time chat. You type something in, enter it and it is seen almost immediately by the other participants. The effect is a typed conversation. I have tried to preserve the customs, syntax and grammar of the actual experience in the dialogue of my story. The denizens of IRC chat rooms or more accurately channels do not commonly use their real name. They use nicknames for themselves. All the nicknames for this autobiographical novel have been altered save mine, Gomer, a nickname I acquired in the Navy as the only southerner among northerners. I will use braces to enclose clarifications of the acronyms, shortcuts, and translations. For example,

<Gomer> hi gal

<X> hi gomer how r u? {How are you?}

<Gomer> im {I’m} feeling a little shaky today brb coffee. {be right back, going for coffee}

As you can surmise there is a shortage of proper punctuation and capitalization in chat. Misspellings are also common.

As it usually does with me, it began with a woman. Into S&M, X was the devil. In the schiz.com chat I had talked her out of immolating herself with lighter fluid in a bathtub. Later it occurred to me that I might have been played but at that time I took it for what it appeared, a suicidal gesture. Though I had never seen her in the flesh, the on line pictures of her were beautiful. The Skype® conversation the day after where she hooked me went like this…

<X> You’re not as crazy as the rest of us. I can tell.

I responded…

<Gomer> I assure you I am a schizophrenic just like you.

<X> This guy, Crowns, has been hassling me. He’s very religious and tells me he wants to save my soul. I tell him I don’t want my soul saved. He actually asked me to marry him. Can you believe that?

<Gomer> Tell him to get lost. He’s just a horny, repressed jerk.

<X> Actually I am an atheist. All his God talk bores me.

<Gomer> It would bore me too. I am an agnostic.

<X> How old are you?

<Gomer> I am 62.

<X> I am 33.

<Gomer> A young sprout, any kids?

<X> A couple. And you?

<Gomer> No, no kids.

The shoe drops…

<X> I’ve been married.

<Gomer> I was married for about ten years, great woman, we are still friends.

<X> We should get together.

<Gomer> Honey, I am too old for you.

<X> No, you’re not. I know this guy who is your age who is the master of the S&M club in my city. He is still hot.

<Gomer> Cool, I never experienced it but have been curious but cowardly about S&M.

<X> Are you top or bottom?

Instinctively, I answered…

<Gomer> Bottom.

In the parlance of S&M “top” means master and “bottom” means slave. I got a bit of luck with my answer since I had no idea “bottom” meant in the context. X is very much a top.

<X> Cool.

<Willy_lad> Bonkers, we have a new couple.

Willy_lad, a former rugby playing Englishman in his twenties, was undisputed king of the schiz.com chat. Soft spoken and loved by all, none dared challenge him. He was also the driving force behind the Skype® group. Among the lords of his court were Rotwolf, a temperamental but brilliant middle aged man who lived in the Southwestern United States, Hillock, a middle aged Canadian man who owned his own business, and Nexus, an Australian of more insight than the average schizophrenic and of indeterminate age. There were other members of the elite inner circle but these are the guys I remember. This group presided over schiz.com chat while simultaneously interacting in Skype®.

The day began early on election day at the Lubbock Democratic Headquarters. I came in around eight in the morning to find a gentleman already hard at work there. Soon Sue, a church friend, showed up and began to organize the volunteers into the phone banks. I did this for a bit and was recruited to run some sign related chores with another volunteer. Basically, what was happening was the local school district police were tearing down signs on what they considered to be their property. We, of course, objected to no avail. Later on, I was told I could not stand on LISD property with a political sign, so I stood with the sign in hand on the sidewalk. Help soon arrived and the LISD police, Lubbock police, and an election judge soon got involved. I did not see the resolution of the situation because I was called away to ferry a voter to the polls. I went back to the headquarters and got a map and took off. I ran up and down MLK Boulevard until I finally found the lady I needed to give a ride to the polls. She was a black lady named Bobby. To my great pleasure, she told me she was a first time voter. This was the high point of my day. When I returned to home, I called Sue and left a message on her machine thanking her for the opportunity to have one of the best experiences of my life.

Thank whatever higher power you believe in, Obama won. Hope won. The politics of fear mongering is dead. I apologize about not posting a recent blog entry. We were discussing blogs in #schizophrenia on ircstorm.net and someone chided me for not doing my job on my blog. I stand reprimanded.