MENTALLY ILL

Saturday, April 10, 2010

MENTALLY ILL

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns

I did a performance-piece, in the summer, about depression.
I got a great review on the Net.
Now, word has gotten around that I’m mentally ill,
That I suffer from clinical depression.
People are afraid to hire me as an actor,
Because of this.

I’m mentally ill!!
I’m a nut job!!!
Now I can get away with murder.
I can tell people to fuck off,
When I really want to.
I can be mean and evil.
I can wear weird clothes
And act foolish and be bitchy.
I’ll just blame it on my illness.

“But, your Honour, I’m mentally ill.
That’s why I slapped that asshole.
I can’t help myself.
I’m nuts.”

This is fun.
I can steal things from variety stores.
I can spit at people on the street.
I can even expose myself on the subway,
If I so desire.

I’m loony.
I’m bonkers.
I can get ODSP from the government.
I’ll never have to work in shitty call centres,
Ever again.
I’ll get government grants for sick artists,
I can show my paintings in lots of exhibitions with other nut cases,
I can appear in documentary films about crazy writers.
I’ll be famous.

This is great.
I always wanted to be a star.
From now on, I’ve got it made.
I’ll never have to go to a food bank, ever again.

“Don’t hire that guy.
He’s crazy.
You can’t take a chance on him.
I hear he’s clinically depressed.”

I’m in the Twilight Zone.
You get Welfare.
You pay MasterCard, rent and phone
And you have $7 left to last you
Until your $94 paycheque comes in two weeks
From your shitty little part-time job,
And Welfare deducts half of that from your next fucking cheque.
Who wouldn’t be depressed!?

Loony tunes, nut bar, dingbat, whack-job.
On top of that: gay, semi-vegetarian, overweight, middle-aged, male artiste.
A tragedy has turned into a Sandra Bullock comedy.
A one night performance can change your whole life.
One review on the Internet can brand you for eternity.
An opportunity to perform can mark you forever.

“I’ve never seen him depressed.
He must be on medication.
He’s totally disabled.”

Hey, I’m not bonkers.
I’m just a slightly eccentric guy
Who likes to wear jewellery and purple shirts.
Who likes to write and paint and act.
Now I’m “mentally ill”.
Well, then, call up the loony bin.
Get out the butterfly nets.
Clean out the padded cell.
I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.
Take me away to bliss and eternal nirvana.
Throw away the key.
This situation is truly, truly crazy.