I've been sort of incommunicado the last few weeks. Busy at work, busy writing. I'm in charge of the Artist Trust Benefit Auction and Brunch, coming up this Sunday. If you're in Seattle this weekend, stop by! But there's a lot of stress doing it. Also preparing an application to curate a group show at Bumbershoot, Seattle's art festival. More on that if my application is accepted.

Anyway, I've been experimenting with drugs for my bipolar disorder. I go from depression, to anxiety, although on good days, the mania manifests as euphoria, which is a pleasant change of pace. My new medication, Effexor, initially made me feel better, but I was still having a little anxiety and depression. So they doubled my dose, which had interesting results. Pyschosis. I had no idea how crazy I could be, until a few weeks ago. Fits of rage, paranoia, I even found myself stalking some guy in a supermarket. In fairness, he dissed me. We were in line at checkout, he was three people behind me, I was next in line. A check stand opened, and the cashier invited the next in our line. Me. But this bastard rushed over, and so I had to wait. About a half hour later I realized I had followed him to another store, planning god knows what. Bad ju-ju. So, my doctor cut the dose a little, which brought back the symptoms it was supposed to treat, while continuing the psychosis.

Literally psychotic. So that was me. I was tapering off the Effexor. Apparently, the side effects of discontinuing Effexor are just like the side effects of taking it. In addition to the symptoms of depression and anxiety I was trying to treat, I was experience paranioa, nightmares, fits of rage, etc. And we have that auction coming up. This is not the week for me to fold. So I called my doctor, who is now on vacation. I had to negotiate with this nurse acting as the middle-man between me and some shrink. First, they say there's nothing that can be done. I am to deal with it. Then it was suggested that in order to prevent things from getting worse, I should keep taking the Effexor at my prescribed rate. I responded, well, I didn't consider it an acceptable approach to maintaining my current level of psychosis was a good solution, i.e. staying on a drug that was making me psychotic was a bad idea, even if going off it made it worse. So they said I should immediately stop taking it, and start taking my new meds. But what about this week? I asked. I cannot fold this week, I said. Can't I get happy pills to get me though the week? No, sez the medical establishment. There is no such thing; there are no happy pills. Really? respond I. What the fuck is Ativan? Librium? I'm losing my fucking mind here. It is then explained to me that the doctors don't consider those a good solution, becuase they're short-term, symptom-responsive medication, and highly addictive. I say to the nurse, okay, a couple things, and I'm sorry for raising my voice, and I'm trying not to yell. First, I don't give a goddman what the doctor's preference is, I give a shit about myself here, and I'm willing to risk a few short-term solutions to get me through the week. Second, talk to me about addiction when I'm coming for, i don't know, my SECOND prescription for this shit, not my first. Third, it is idiotic to tell me that keeping me is a psychotic state for the next seven to ten days is preferable in any way to prescribing some sort of immediate tranquilizer for the duration of the episode. That is just so gay. I get put on hold. The nurse returns from hold. Okay, two weeks worth of Clonezapam, whatever that is. They aren't get-you-high tranks, more make you feel normal. Which is fine by me.