A certain kitty kitty wanted pets at 5:30, and who was I to deny?

Slowly, I rock in my porch swing.

Porch swings must be deeply imbedded in Irish DNA, because I’ve always been drawn to them. The sun is still rising and there’s a cool breeze at my back. In one hand, a Star Wars mug full of black covfefe. In the other, my recently cleaned Proto holds a fresh bowl. Let’s spark it in the name of beautiful mornings and rarely witnessed sunrises.

The non-native birds who’ve escaped from the Dallas Zoo over the years are blasting their foreign calls throughout the neighborhood. Above me, my schizophrenic neighbor is serenading his inner demons like the lead singer from a mid-nineties warehouse party. Music to my ears. It’s been a minute.

I haven’t met his new downstairs neighbor, but I recognize her. I explained to the realtor that she wouldn’t last a month living below Dallas PD’s favorite waste of time. I guess she took the bet and failed to mention it to the poor lady. She avoided eye contact with me since moving in, meaning the owner told her I was the crazy, old-stoner-hermit who has no secrets. In my defense, there’s nothing wrong with that as long as you’re a dealer of facts. I just happen to be one of those.

Man, he’s really giving it a go! He’s throwing things against the walls and the whole nine, like the Kool-Aid man who’s finally met his nemesis! I hear sirens around the corner, but that’s just the Dallas mating call. I truly hope they’re not coming here because they won’t do anything when they do. They never have, even when I’ve filed reports face to face municipally and on the state level.

Mental health is a beast in this country, especially for men. Southern men, to be more precise. It’s weaponized and villainized from the moment we’re born. Religious rhetoric and locker room bullying holds it in place until we leave the nest to start our own lives. Then, the cycle continues.

Hopefully he’ll crash soon. If I have to put my bud up for an official welfare check, I’m gonna be distraught on a “pissed off with pigtails” level.

The dude is a fellow writer who even has IMDB credits. Other than being diagnosed as a schizophrenic, he’s trans and has a chubbier “Welcome to the Black Parade” thing going on. You’d think we’d be besties!

I want to help him, but he is in denial. The city and state levels care not. All I can do is enjoy the show, and I shall without guilt. Can you believe some people pay for this kind of entertainment? If I was a pig, I’d start filming it for the internet to make some extra cash. As a great lizard once said: “Not my chair; not my problem”.

Irony: my cat has the zoomies. I wonder if my neighbor’s behavior is triggered by the same things that make cats freak out. Oh, wait; I gave her some “Meowojuana” before going out for covfefe. Yep, the cause remains the same. Science is fun, kids.

Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon. Stay away from the news today. Go outside. Hug someone.