On from the last time, the most poignant moment was when I stood in court at my hearing, basically to determine my sanity:
The judge: What's your name?
Me: Lucifer Morningstar.
The judge: Where were you born?
Me: Heaven.
And that was that. I had a pretty good time at the mental institution: after half starving for a couple weeks, three squares a day; after being alone for months, a bevy of interesting people to talk to. And when I wanted out, all I had to do was act normal. I could turn it on and off, depending on my mood.
So, I kicked around a few months at my parents' place, but they gave me no money for the partaking of the marijuana — which really sucked as far as I was concerned. Then, I visited my younger brother in California. My dad gave me some money to spend on the trip, and of course, I got stoned again there after a three-month lack. Was definitely addicted to it then: I remember I only started feeling normal again after taking a few hits of the stuff.
The Rosanna Arquette cartoon popped in and out in my head, but she wasn't too big a part of it, yet.... Let me tell you about the weird thing happened in California, though. One day, as I lay high there in my brother's apartment, Jesus in my head decided to shut off the better part of the cartoons and voices. I don't know how, He just did it. So, that was how I was for about a year — for the most part, I was basically sane, basically myself from about August of 1993 to September 1994. Sane, but not happy. Sane, but still lost. More later.
Aly