Schizophrenia on the streets

When I was a kid, there was a man who used to walk around the neighborhood, with his scraggly dog, talking to himself.  He’d wave his arms, sometimes shout, pace back and forth.  He had schizophrenia.  In Los Angeles, where just about everyone now has a blue-tooth growing out of their head, every day, all day, I see men and women walking around, sometimes with their dogs, sometimes alone, talking loudly, sometimes shouting, waving their arms and pacing back and forth.  Just like the man in my hood, these people have voices in their heads.

So, today, as I was shopping in Home Depot for my N95 face masks which may or may not be helpful in prevention of the swine flu, in case it becomes a severe pandemic (deep breath), I imagined Los Angelenos walking with face masks on, talking and waving and walking.  I don’t know why that disturbs me in a bizarrely funny way…but it does.

Gotta go now… heading out to pick up my preventive, pre-emptive Tamaflu prescription.

4 thoughts on “Schizophrenia on the streets

  1. It doesn’t matter what part of town you live in these days you’ll find people wandering the streets holding elaborate conversations with absolutely no one. Thanks to a decrease in federal funding there is no room in the institutions to house or provide therapy and/or medication for them anymore. But what’s the excuse the guy in the bread isle of the grocery store going to give. I gave him a wide berth even though I could see the bluetooth flashing blue in his right ear. I resent turning pink after responding to someone I thought was speaking to me only to find out it’s the voice in their head their talking to. Real or imaginary? I don’t care. I still resent being the one to feel embarrassed—it should be them.

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