radi safi

Hand Crafted Madness

I have a good friend (who I’ve only realised recently is insane) come to visit last week. It was fun as usual. There was drinking and talking and eating involved. In the right order and at the right pace. His insanity however (the one I’d discovered ever so recently) seemed to have fashioned a new hold on him. There were key words he repeated and stories he re-told several times, each time with more fervor and as though it was the first time he’s ever told it to anyone. Out of politeness I endured the ordeal. It wasn’t a case of old-man-madness in the form of “did I ever tell you about the time…”. This was the real deal. It made me take a closer look at everyone else I know and sure enough, you’ll all completely mad as well. Focusing on key words, repeating stories and telling them time and again as though it’s the first time you’ve ever done it. Not the same stories of course but enough already. So I started to talk to strangers about this problem in the off chance that it was my inner circle of chosen ones that had all become unwell so slowly that I hadn’t noticed. I found that while they were happy enough to agree and things seemed to be moving along handsomely it wasn’t too long before they too would let loose with their own hand crafted brand of madness. This one guy in particular who is always hanging around at the bus stop humming M Ward songs (he claims he doesn’t know M Ward and never actually gets on a bus) started to tell about a good friend who he’d only realised recently was also insane. He’d come to visit last week. It was fun as usual. There was drinking and talking and eating involved. In the right order and at the right pace. His insanity however (the one he’d recently discovered) seemed to have fashioned a new hold on him. There were key words he repeated and stories he re-told several times each time with more fervor and as though it was the first time he’s ever told it to anyone. Out of politeness he endured the ordeal. It wasn’t a case of old-man-madness in the form of “did I ever tell you about the time…”. This was the real deal. It made him take a closer look at everyone else he knew and sure enough, they were all completely mad as well. Focusing on key words, repeating stories and telling them time and again as though it’s the first time you’ve ever done it. Not the same stories of course but enough already. So he started to talk to strangers at bus stops about this problem in the off chance that it was his inner circle of chosen ones that had all become unwell so slowly that he hadn’t noticed. He found that while they were happy enough to agree and things seemed to be moving along handsomely it wasn’t too long before they too would let loose with their own hand crafted brand of madness. This one guy in particular who is always hanging around at the bus stop raving about M Ward songs started to tell about a good friend that came to stay.

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