Grouphug.us

Grouphug.us is the most fucked up yet fascinating look into the sepia-colored film Noirish David Lynchian heart that is Americana ... Americana horror, people. (looks around suspiciously, continues ...) Set up as a sort of confessional, with locked glass doors, we, the spectators confronting the spectacle, are allowed to pull up a front row center seat to watch the freak-of-the-week parade about their naughty bits. Some of it is touching, quite frankly, some of it is raw; some of it is brutal, but virtually all of it flouts the basic laws of grammar; here, my little soupbones, have yourselves a looksie:

"so i am really really really scared. My girlfriend is going to get sick she says in her mind schizophrenia she says she will kill herself before she gets too bad. but we are suppose to get married and have children. i know she doesn't really want too. she left me alone tonight.. she is sleeping on the futon. I don't smoke pot anymore because when she smokes pot she gets scary and crazy and i just look at her and cry because i am powerless because i love her so much."

(The Corsair pulls out a legal note pad and does a Dr. Melfi)

"... sometimes i get really confused and shit is crazy in my head fast and quiet a man and a womens voice. I have been told i feel too much. I cry a lot. I cry over the time that i am missing spending with my parents or i think of times that i am not going to be with my girlfriend i have also been told i have dyslexia probably my dad has it."

(The Corsair cocks an eyebrow, slowly puts down the legal pad, and gets into a sprinters position)

"um. i burn my arms. i don't know really why but i do
with steam and heated spoons. i put bandaides over them so people can see the bandaides. but i hide the scars."

(The Corsair shivers ... and bolts from the room to the accompanyment of Asia's Heat of the Moment)

I wonder if there have ever been studies about the statistical percentages of madness in a world empire, and whether or not the pathologies increase over time.