My Paranoid Schizophrenic Beach Volleyball Partner

My Paranoid Schizophrenic Beach Volleyball Partner

Mental illness is something that doesn’t necessarily indicate a
low level of standardized measurement on an IQ test. I’ve
worked with people with profound mental illness that had
measured IQ’s with very respectable numbers. Besides this,
there are those with amazing street knowledge and other
knowledge that isn’t measured in IQ tests.

I had a friend once… my beach volleyball partner. We met
playing ball and decided we’d make a good team and we
played together for a couple years. He was under 30
years. His father was African American. His mother,
caucasian.

I was going to the univ. for degrees in psychology. He was
sitting at home writing songs.

He had grown up mostly in New York City and apparently had
a hell of a childhood.

I’d pick him up every saturday and Sunday morning for our
ride to the beach to play beach volleyball.

He’d ask me if I was ready for it… He had a new song… I
was always ready. I loved hearing them. To think that he
was “undiscovered” blew my mind everytime I was
lucky enough to hear a new song. I was one of VERY few
he shared the songs with. Most didn’t understand them.

I will post one below. Keep in mind this guy had over 100
songs written on notebooks in a large Hefty bag stuffed in
his closet in his 2 room apartment in a bad section of
town. EVERY SONG was of this sort.

Read some. Before you dismiss it, change the pauses and
the word phrases… group different words together – they
make a LOT of sense. Most of it makes sense in fact. One
would need to know a lot vocabulary – but I think many will
understand the level of creativity this guy had.

***************Visit Grey***************

Very vicissitudinous with the verses covered in vanishing
cream

When you thought you caught a thought you wakeup on a
balance beam

Sopping wet from a nightly sweat drowning in my plethora
of knowledge

Maintaining this disturbing motto: Quix never went to
college

But still multidimentionally ramshackling thee unconscious
and alter egos

I significantly interfere with awakenings of my intracranial
amigos

Three faces of evenings treasure symbols, signs, and
earthly pleasure

Mathematicians to the math magician only savantics could
possibly measure

And now you’ve reached your intellectual capacity and
pumping out cardiac distress

But in this episode you implode and fall inside your
hallowedmess

Diminishing and decomposing from the belfry of oblong
belongings

Close my eyes then fantasy character so I can write and
recite the wrongings

Before the time of rhyme McDonald’s didn’t have Shamrock
shakes

inside the autubahn of life in bottles where the carbonation
awaits

Shattering glass bubbles all around me hulahooping inside
my octagon

incapacitating your family dictionary proof positive you
alepton

I crush echokinesis into corpuscles and excessively distress
you then dis you

With refrigerator magnets on a compass and the deep-dish
connective tissue

Partially remit you from a catatonic state for retention
detention study hall

The conversationalist outside laws of nature say you one,
say you all

Say my name in parenthesis spell it backwards n upside
down on a mirror

Ponderwander in the clearings of cobweb ends tier to tierEntangled in the stretching stench of intestinal satisfaction

So I wrote a 100 songs to give you head to fecal impaction

Your dribbling pint-sized regiment pilots ignorance to an all
-time high

While I slob globs of fine print refinements of overslicing
scientifical pie

A jolting bolting flashing noose–the metaphorlogical hunter
pneumothorax

Feeding the frenzy waiting outside the corner of my mouth
on scam tracks

It’s not the writings, it’s the sightings says the troll of soul
under the skyway bridge

More brothers hate me for my unicultural beliefs than white
around Ruby Ridge

As you identigraph face the factual I mock you and your
lineage

Violating your sensory input squirting all over your family’s
image

Now you have a jonesing of a visionquest for the
intellectual separateness flavor

Infomercials throw me multimillions, to the slaver I will not
waiver

Abstinance from normality has me contrasting to your
reality

So there you go… He told me he had a DSM IV label of
“Paranoid Schizophrenia”. He was quite an amazing
volleyball player and songwriter. I say “was”… is he still
out there?