Square apples are grown in boxes.

I love crazy people. I don't mean crazy like your aunt who likes the bingo, or your mother-in-law with the OCD, I mean like screaming-at-inanimate-objects-in-the-middle-of-the-street crazy.

I have this theory that most to all of them will act normal if you treat them normally. If during one of their outbursts you sort of metaphorically poke them, they will stop, just like a snorer. Of course, like a snorer, they'll inevitably resume disturbing your peace just as you were beginning to enjoy it. The trick is to force them to realize that other people do exist in their world and can see, hear, smell and touch them. This usually results in a negligible amount of self-consciousness and they move on to terrorize the next batch of daisies down the road.

My fascination with psychos drives my friends nuts. They can't understand why on earth anyone would voluntarily tolerate the presence of a crazy, much less encourage interaction with one. What I say is this: when you're as entertaining as that guy, I will pay you more attention and him less. Until then STFU.

I want to make it clear that I don't talk to crazies and drunks because I think they are funny freaks, or because I need someone to whom I can feel superior, or because they are funny like clowns/funny haha. I talk to them because they are some of the only people who will tell you exactly what is on their minds. They don't have the capacity to give a shit about what you think about them. This is why people believe they're crazy. I, on the other hand, believe they might have gotten it just about right.

Who knows why people scream at themselves? Not me. This dude was super into it. Sorry the video is on its side but it was the only way to get his whole body in the shot:




My friend clearly thought that I thought that this guy was entertaining like a monkey in a zoo, but that's not the case. I thought he was fascinating. You have never heard a more spirited conversation. If politicians had this much heart it would make it much harder to actually pick one to run shit. Too bad the conversation was in German; I would have liked to have understood more of what he was saying.

Unfortunately he decided to get really really upset with himself (or his cigarette, or his reflection, depending on whom you ask) and start flailing about the table. Mind you he was not a paying customer or anything and the proprietors of the cafe we were patronising seemed to have no problem with his snotty, vomit-covered, piss-soaked bulk loitering about their premesis, and they made no move to expel him when he started to lose it. He went into a high-pitched, loud-as-banshees screaming match with himself, banging on and kicking the table and nearly upending Cookie's cup and saucer. Remembering my old "metaphorical poke" trick I said curtly, "Hey!" He kept on. I went, "HEY! HEEEEEY!!!!!" and banged my fist on the table, hard. In a loud, authoritative tone I commanded, "RUHIG UND LEISER, BITTE." ("CALM DOWN AND BE QUIET, PLEASE.") He went silent and I was quite pleased with myself, but this guy was a tough nut and was back at it before a couple minutes had passed.

Finally a dude from the bakery next door finished watching the spectacle (he had appeared amused the entire time) and told the guy to keep it pushing. Half an hour later we saw him only a block away, doing the same thing to another sidewalk cafe.

What a funny town. In Seattle there are precious few places a Crazy can yell at himself with impunity, namely; the bus stop, the waterfront and the park. We have a modicum of decorum and smelly yelling bums are not tolerated anywhere in public. Even the library discriminated against them, banning people from bringing in overlarge duffle bags or sleeping at tables. Now if your duffle bag was North Face and you fell asleep in a Noam Chomsky book chances are you'd be left alone, but don't let it be an army duffle issued to you back in 'Nam and MAD Magazine because they have security officers to deal with scum like you.

If the crazies are always treated as the dregs of society, they will always behave like the dregs of society. End of story. I don't believe that your average mentally-disturbed dude on the street is incapable of rehabilitation, I think he just doesn't give a shit anymore about being "normal", especially not after having seen how cruel and judgmental Normal People can be (hell I don't want to be part of Normal People either but I don't have any mental illnesses to excuse me from having to tolerate their society... yet).

For this reason and others, I don't support pushing the crazies out of the library, away from the sidewalk, or off the beach, at least not until they threaten my coffee, or that of a loved one.