. . . he said, taking the guitar off his shoulders and casting a wary eye over the assembled crowd. He was looking for reaffirmation through negation, but after a momentary pause had yielded naught, he continued speaking with a false air of disregard. ‘I might never be famous, but I’ve come to the conclusion that this doesn’t matter.’

[first frame]
“How can it be so hard to tell the truth when it always feels so damn good?”
This in a speech bubble from the jester; who . . .

[second frame]
realizing he’s caught up (once again?) in pointing out a most glaringly-obvious-truth, looks abashed and exits the frame . . .

[third frame]
a car passes, life goes on
this not in a speech bubble from the jester who leans back into frame to provide commentary on the great not much of everything that keeps occurring as he tries to define it

certainly not fixing on sharing it all here,
but in keeping with the spirit of
‘must actually do this’
voila

fiction!

- -

{partial transcript of voluntary intake statement}
K - County Psychiatric Institute
11/13/07
Patient : [perhaps inevitably the name is blacked out]
Complained that he’d met god and was no longer to be
trusted mingling with ordinary people.

. . . people called him crazy, and he was, almost without regard for how you might choose to define crazy, he’d find a way to fit it . . .