I’ve got to know a few of the mental health dudes who hang around the coffee shops. There’s a whole scene. These guys are heroes. Some of the medication they have to take is a blunt cudgel that brains and dazes them, shackling their emotion, their artistry, their libido, their colour, their zest, their sound, their smell. Some of their medicine pushes them into a fog within a cloud inside a mist inside a dream with no windows. Yet they take them. Willingly. Some of these guys know what happens if they stop taking their medication. Their brain can take them into dangerous places, hijack them, and make them become a danger to themselves and others. It’s not them. It’s the condition. But as an act of absolute heroism, in an act of grandeur and stoic responsibility, they will take their medication in order to keep contained the monster that has decided to lodge inside their head. This bastard gremlin. And they are heroes for keeping it caged - in spite of the fact they need to cage up so much of themselves in the process. Slowly some of them get back strains of humour and their wit and you see the sparkle in them. But they will honestly tell you about the sacrifice they have to make. So there is a whole hidden scene in coffee shops. You may ignore them or sense that they’re a bit funny. But be aware you are walking past a hero on the way out the door. Be aware that sitting on that chair you walk past is a hero locked in a private war you’ll never know about. That’s a hero on the front line, sitting there quietly, nursing a coffee, looking straight ahead.
WARRIORS
WARRIORS
WARRIORS
I’ve got to know a few of the mental health dudes who hang around the coffee shops. There’s a whole scene. These guys are heroes. Some of the medication they have to take is a blunt cudgel that brains and dazes them, shackling their emotion, their artistry, their libido, their colour, their zest, their sound, their smell. Some of their medicine pushes them into a fog within a cloud inside a mist inside a dream with no windows. Yet they take them. Willingly. Some of these guys know what happens if they stop taking their medication. Their brain can take them into dangerous places, hijack them, and make them become a danger to themselves and others. It’s not them. It’s the condition. But as an act of absolute heroism, in an act of grandeur and stoic responsibility, they will take their medication in order to keep contained the monster that has decided to lodge inside their head. This bastard gremlin. And they are heroes for keeping it caged - in spite of the fact they need to cage up so much of themselves in the process. Slowly some of them get back strains of humour and their wit and you see the sparkle in them. But they will honestly tell you about the sacrifice they have to make. So there is a whole hidden scene in coffee shops. You may ignore them or sense that they’re a bit funny. But be aware you are walking past a hero on the way out the door. Be aware that sitting on that chair you walk past is a hero locked in a private war you’ll never know about. That’s a hero on the front line, sitting there quietly, nursing a coffee, looking straight ahead.