Talia learned to speak to me during her meditations. Around this time I began to experience difficulty writing. I won’t bore you with the specs, but I was dead broke, unemployed, and didn’t want to waste potential writing time looking for some job. But how would I survive? Did I have to bite the bullet and try to score a gig as a cashier or salesperson or corporate computer maid? The whole thing filled me with some horrible dread, so that I couldn’t write or look for work.

So, when Talia learned to speak to me, she asked me why nothing interesting had happened to her since she discovered me. I confessed my situation. I didn’t want her spouting vague spiritual reassurance my way. No, I’d made her recent life boring by neglect and here was a chance to make it up to her. So I wrote her to try to persuade me to check myself into a mental asylum, where I wouldn’t have to work. I could write all day! I told her that I’d considered writing her into a mental asylum but decided not to. She said there was a reason for that: I must have intuited that I should save this plot twist for myself. All this rationalizing was covering up her selfish motive: if I couldn’t write, she couldn’t exist.

But the plan made sense, and the thought of following my own character’s advice made me feel all giddy, so I immediately knew I’d do it.

The same day I walked to a nearby CVS, asked for a pack of Marlboros and lit one up right in the store without even paying. The cashier called up the manager but before he could arrive, I took off all my clothes and initiated a game of hide and seek with him through the store’s many isles and two floors. As the manager hunted me down one or two customers ran out of the store in high-pitched screams, while a growing group of curious spectators tailed me around and kept blowing my cover, so I started hiding from them too, or else I’d make like I was gonna lunge at them penis first, which mostly worked to scare them off, except until this one big alpha dude took offense and ran after me, and I ended up running up the down escalator because the manager was coming down after me on the up escalator, which I don’t know why that, and the alpha bro and a random poodle that I guess had got so offended by my nudity that he yanked his leash off his master’s hand and rushed to join the hero team, they both ran up after me on the down escalator, so that the whole scene was just getting completely Tom and Jerry-level out of control ridiculous until the cops showed up and took me away.

I was charged with disturbing the peace, petty theft, destruction of property, indecent exposure, plus sexual assault; that one I didn’t expect but I guess makes sense. The plan was to plead not guilty by reason of insanity and perform the following in my own defense:

Freedom Rap
[Bailiff: Do you swear to the tell truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?]

The year was ’74
Man did something that’d never done before
104th floor, 1350 feet below
Strapped a cable to an arrow to a bow

Cable was tightened ‘cross the WTC
The eyes of the world turned to Philippe Petite
45 minutes he walked ‘cross the wire
Higher than empire, looking down at the world entire

Just after 7AM, August 7th
Philippe took a stroll amongst the heavens
Fulfilling on a dream he’d had forever
Now they makin’ movies staring Joseph Gordon Leavitt

The year was 1934
A man escaped from jail using a potato
Painted it with atomic number 53
Shaved it like a gun and off he went, scot-free

Was the John Dillinger days of the terror gang
Known to rob 4 cop stops and 24 banks
The Herman Lamm banking robbing system
Made the 50 states listen

Took the betrayal of a lady in red
To finally shoot John Dillinger dead
A stinking pig stole the cash from his dead pockets
15,000 came to see his casket

[Judge: Will the defendant please get on with it? What does any of this have to do with your defense?]

Well, if you’re wondering where’s
The thread in all
These unrelated stories
Well, please don’t look too hard
It just ain’t like you to
See the free in wild lonely dreams

In the year 2014
Two culprits from the city of Berlin
In the middle of the night, climbed a structure once designed
By the one and only John Augustus Roebling

Matthias and Mischa got to the top
In what they called a celebration of art
Took apart American hype
Switched stars and stripes, social dynamite

Stitched in all white-washed American culture
Symbolic sepulcher, from the height of vultures
Terrorists, aliens and hipsters
Is all the mass of idiots could muster
To explain

The anomaly not normally looking down at their borough
But the real hero of this story, man of little glory
Master thanatology, versed in the-ologies
A man of no apology

Who in the year 2010
At only 35 years of age
Completed the 1905th page
And totally unknown titled his tome “Suicide Note”

So Mitchell Heismann’s experiment was set
Life is meaningless he said
Nothing better about the living to the dead
Nothing to regret
Bought a pistol and put the barrel to the side of his head

Oh, I’m free
Yes, I’m free at last
Oh, I’m free
From everything

Oh, I’m free
Yes, I’m free at last
I’m free to be
Free from me

[Dostoevsky: Yo, what’s up? It’s Dostoesvky. William wants all y’all to know that I think he’s the best writer since me.]

Yo, to the Honorable Justice, I’ma break this shit down for ya, ight?

First I flip back the page of my opened notepad
I plug the drain soak my brain in a hot bath
Of entitled righteous crap that crosses my path
I write this rap, I rap our wrongs, and that is this track

Have you ever got a glimpse of what it means to be free?
From chest pumpin’ daddy issue tribal postured beef
From organic herb-fed herd-mind petty hypocrites
The GOP and DNC can down my motherfucking BFD
Then leave me be, from a to z, your brands can aptly nuzzle these
They don’t brand me, you can’t buy me
With promise of goodies and security
With fears of coolin’ ozones depletin’

Of Muslims creepin’, banksters schemin’, coppers beatin’, peds they peepin’
NSA’s peekin’, feds are sniffin’, our youth be peakin’, students bleedin’
Aliens sneakin’, welfare queens be unjustly eatin’, daughters sleepin’
Sons be beefin’, p’lygamy’s creepin’, jobs decreasin’, bibles teachin’

With these fears you’d like, to keep us knelt down tremblin’
Spendin’ all our lives, fuckin’ hamster on a treadmill
I’ve looked into the eyes of the void, they looked back at me
But when I look in your eyes, all I see’s bad acting

Are you starting to get, I don’t give half a shit
About the way of life, you wave on a stick
Even stuck in a bed, in pain, dying and sick
Or in jail on all fours w/ my face to three dicks
17 hours a day for 6 fucking weeks
“That’s 21 42 dickhours” says the geek in me
You may now take a drink from the meaning of life on me
And envy me, cause even with all that dick in me

I’ll still be free
Free from x, y, z
Even free from me
Even free from free

My argument’s not serious ’cause my flow is poppin’?
If Nietzsche lived today, he’d a-been a fucking rapper

You better perk the fuck up Justice, you dealin’ with a nigga from Maracaibo!

[Aside: At this point, I’d juggle some Tamagotchi to show him just how free I am. The random is the essence of freedom to the mind of the slave.]

I’ma tell you what it all comes down to today Your Honor
S’about the families you broken up for selling marijuana
Thrown into a prison system with more fucking victims
Than three times the whole goddamn population of Guyana

If I may ask you one thing, how much does it cost
To bat away the consequence of suffering you’ve caused?
Can you look your fellow human in the eye
And drop the act, just have a chat, and bypass the charade?

Of course you can’t, you’ll never dare disturb the ways, cut through the haze
Of status gain, even with you’re, once-only-given, humanity at stake
D’yu forget the test with which to check if you’ve been devoid of consciousness
Just drop the robe and jargon words, come join the fucking human race

Now here’s my brother from the same mother here to murder
Me on my own shit, and leave me dead with his testimony
Witness to a head all tripped up, scrambled outta wack, yo
Steeze Mack, bitch smack this parrot’s smile with a fact attack

I am understanding, nobody can understand
What’s really going on inside the brain of this man
My brother, the writer, the rasta
All I know is that if he’s insane, then he’s a fuckin’ impostor
A faker
He’s just lost his mind with the pen and the paper
And we all battle with demons, and that there is the truth
Except the one inside of him wants to explode like a nuke
There’s a civil war going on in his mind
He just wants to be here so he can write all the time
Bring his demons power and just allow them to shine
But I won’t let them evils ever try n’ take what’s mine
So show a sign where I gotta show faith
Ironic what you love can make you feel all the pain
But if you try n’ let it go then it can never be the same
Doesn’t matter what you say
‘Cause if he’s insane
Then I am pretty sure that we are all the same

And so you see my brother may not agree that I’m insane
And yet I brought him on the stand anyway
So that you can understand
I do whatever I please
That’s all it means to be free
I’m the anti-society

[Bailiff: Order in the court! Order in the court!]

[end of rap]

My public defender told me if I tried that I’d almost 100% end up doing hard time because the insanity defense rarely works, and I’m pretty obviously lucid even if I do have some wacky ideas, so I took a guilty plea on some of the lesser charges and was sentenced to some fees, probation and community service, but no time. I told some relatives and managed to convince them to pool together the cash for one voluntary one-year stay at Woodstock Psych.

NEXT: 5. Clint and Beef