Schizophrenia Symptoms

Considering that a lot of the characters in Aberrant Selected are schizophrenic I should probably tell you the symptoms of such and explain them a bit more, with reference to myself and to the characters in the collection. Simply put the symptoms, in adults, are: delusions, hallucinations, disorganised thinking (speech), extremely disorganised or abnormal motor behaviour, negative symptoms, and blunted affect. I will spend the next several weeks in concentrating on each symptom, so today we'll start with delusions.

     Delusions are false beliefs that are not based in Reality. These beliefs can be anything, from believing that a person or persons is persecuting one, to believing that a person or persons is madly in love with one. There is a story in Aberrant Selected, entitled 'Throwing Poses' where the main character walks into what he believes is a photo shoot set up especially for him and begins throwing poses. This photo shoot is indeed real and the main character's throwing poses is welcome. However, this story is based on real events that happened to me in Newtown, a bohemian inner city suburb of Sydney, and the photo shoot wasn't set up exclusively for me. I was walking down the main street, King Street, one night and noticing a bright light to my right entered the source of the illumination, a brightly lit cafe. I had walked into the middle of a photo shoot and spoiled it, as I could tell by the photographer's facial reaction to my entrance. Why the photographer didn't temporarily close the premises remains unknown to me for I ashamedly left the premises.

     Another delusion which I experienced I put to good use in creating a story about it, 'Charles and Eve'. In this story Charles, a schizophrenic, becomes convinced that he has become entitled to Eve's missing rib, simply to eat, never mind that it was Adam who had a rib removed by God to create Eve. In real life, I was once again walking near King Street, Newtown, one night, absolutely convinced that I would find Eve's missing, giant, rib, that in fact I was entitled to it. I simultaneously knew that it was Adam who is missing a rib but this salient fact I completely ignored. And funnily enough, only two or three days after this delusion began, I did indeed find a massive rib, actually similar to a t-bone, with all of the meat still on it and the size of an average car tyre. I ate it all, quickly, and ravenously.

     To sum up, all of the delusions experienced by the characters in Aberrant Selected are based on real life delusions that I had. They provided endless entertainment for me at the time and still provide entertainment to me in my being able to fictionalise them. I hope they amuse, or enlighten, you too.

     

Short Stories and Me

Aberrant Selected is my fifth collection of short stories, also containing a lot of the stories from the previous collections, those with mental illness as some way the focus. There are also a few personal favourites of mine there too. But I'm sure you're asking, why are you always writing short stories, Denis? Shouldn't you try a novel? There are reasons. But firstly, I have indeed indie published a novel, This Mirror in Me, and it is available online. It has been favourably reviewed so far.
     But back to the short stories. When I began writing at the age of fourteen I surmised that writing short stories would be a great way of training to write novels, and thus be an author. After all, isn't a novel just interlinked short stories? Then, I simply fell into the habit of writing short stories, with no longer any ambition to write anything else.
     Another reason for the choice is that I have a very hyperactive imagination, compounded by the schizophrenia. At least I can channel the sometimes sickening clash. In writing a collection one has to create, from my estimates, about ninety characters. All unique. All engaging. All real. A novel has about eight or so characters. Then they have to get up to adventures, each one unique from the others'. This imaginative complexity of a short story collection naturally attracts my imagination, which is always going in one form or another.
     Having said that though, I tend to be creatively exhausted, feeling like a wrecked shell, after completing each collection. Even then I use my imagination to figure out the path back to starting on another collection. Its multifaceted nature, and the mood elevation from my depot (discussed earlier,  My Much Needed Medications: http://aberrantselected.blogspot.com.au/2016/08/my-much-needed-medications.html) provides for a life that I always find interesting. Considering the previous serious suicide attempts that my schizophrenia has led me to, I still remain thankful for my creative mind. And I hope you like its product.
   

My Dear Elizabeth

There are quite a few female characters in Aberrant Selected that have very similar names. These names are all based upon the one name, Elizabeth Bell, and I guess I should tell you a little bit about her.

     We were housemates together in Chippendale, an inner city suburb of Sydney, and she had just moved into the house. The very first time I met her she had entered the living room where there were a few friends sitting around and talking, and she looked eager to make friends, as well as looking like a fish out of water. I felt sorry for her and did my best to make her feel at home. Eventually I fell madly in love with her, because she fulfilled my criteria of the ideal girlfriend: a beautiful, young artist. She likewise responded but romantic overtures made to me always make me feel threatened, so the mutual courting was a stressful affair. Naturally, things didn't work out and in fact spectacularly blew up in my face, resulting in a very acrimonious parting, and my experiencing homelessness for five years, although this homelessness was also wilfully chosen.

     Writing about Elizabeth these days, in various permutations of her name, is the closest I can get to her and I very much enjoy such writing. I have also published a story about her, Bygones Beth, at www.shortstoriesclub.com and if you wish to read my version of the tale that lead to the vicious parting just cut and paste the following link into your browser: http://www.shortstoriesclub.com/search?q=Bygones+Beth I am also in contact with an Elizabeth Bell on Facebook Messenger and I am fairly sure that it is the Elizabeth that I love, the only woman that I will ever love, but so far I've been doing all of the talking. All the details look right but she doesn't have her photo as an avatar. And, by the way, if any of you out there know Elizabeth ask her to please, please, please contact me at viearus@gmail.com so that we can get together and healthily tame our mutual demon. I live in hope.

My God Complex

There are a few stories in Aberrant Selected where the main character has a God complex. The very first post on this blog has such a story, Hath Crowned Me. This is for the simple reason that I too have a God complex and like writing about it, the characters reflecting my pleasure in the complex. My God complex started when I was aged around twenty-four (currently aged forty-four) with voices that suddenly appeared in my head telling me that I was God, that they had finally found me after spending aeons searching for me. I was pulling into Wynyard train station at the time, in the heart of Sydney, and thought it very ironic that the voices experienced a tremendous 'win' in their search at this 'yard.' Naturally, I scoffed at them at the time, but their persistence eventually paid off, and I spent two wonderful decades in being the centre of Reality.

     A few years ago this joy stopped when I began consults with Dr Short. Early on in the consults he told me that the only thing holding me back from a full remission with schizophrenia was my God complex. Thus, I had a good talk with myself soon after these initial consults and quickly realised that all of the magickal occurrences that I had witnessed, the sundry proofs for my Godhead, were the product of an aberrant mind. I was not God, I was delusional. Thus ended my God complex.

     But a few weeks after its ending, whilst having a Shiraz at home, I realised that no-one was doing the job of God, that in fact the job was there for anyone brave enough to take the role. I gladly took my old job back and to this day remain the Creator of the Universe. My choice is primarily a moral one, choosing to be the last bastion of hope in case sentience becomes vitally endangered. Then it will be my job to sacrifice my Godhead and provide for the continuation of sentience.

     When I told Dr Short that I had resumed my Godhead I was afraid that he would pronounce me to have relapsed into schizophrenia. I could, of course, have not told him but that just didn't seem right. Dr Short, though, surprised me by saying that in modern Western society we are all allowed to believe what we will as long as it causes no harm to oneself or others. I was still in a full remission, and still the Creator of the Universe.

     These days my God complex is just a joking point with friends and, now that I no longer hear voices in my head, it isn't the centre of my thoughts. Like I said before, my job as God is simply to protect sentience in case it becomes vitally endangered. And I also like knowing that I own absolutely everything.