Beneath the surface

I am in a snarl. I have been having WAY too much contact with what is considered to be the "real world". YUCK!!!
My neighbor that I partied with is going back to the Mormon church. She sent the missionaries over here. Huh. Been there done that one, too. It is so BORING. might as well be dead, and I'd certainly rather be in hell doing great drugs than in their no-doubt-tedious and trite heaven. GeEz.
I went to an art thingie with wine and cheese afterward. They were all about how but no trace of why or what. What is Art? ...archival? conceptual? technique? True art can be smeared with menstrual blood onto a park bench.
Art says I am here. I am real. There are things in my heart and soul that I would like to share with you because it is too lonely otherwise. Oooohh! Look! Look! How beautiful! How mysterious!
I may indeed be crazy, (I AM) but if what goes on out there is sane, crazy is the only way to go. People, people! What are you thinking? Where is to joy, the transparency, the luminosity?
Why is there no magic in your life? What are you afraid of? Maybe it would be fun to actually live a bit before you die? Why choose so small?

Or perhaps there are no real people out there and you all are merely automata, concerned with money and statutes and real estate and other quantities?

"It's all about money
Ain't a damn thing funny
Gotta have a job
In this land of milk and honey"
-Grand Master Flash

Who wants to make love with automata? Besides it's against the "rules". Who's rules?
Beam me up Scotty! Sane folks is NUTS!

Actually, for the record, I tried sanity various times and just cannot develop a taste for it. Any therapy I've encountered is just cutting off your nose so you can't smell the shit you've gotta eat to be considered normal.
Choose your own adventure.