I was standing in line at CVS, when a youngish, tattooed skater burst into the store, declaiming conspiracies as he stalked around. He was clearly in the grip of psychosis, and I caught bits of proclaiming the god-law on top of the Texas capitol and refusing to submit to the demands of various authorities, both earthly and supernatural. I confess I was a bit concerned as he careened about, but was able to make my purchase, and I noticed that he had selected an Odwalla juice of some sort as I walked out the door.
I got back into my car, and as he passed in front of my windshield with his juice on the way to who knows where, my playlist resumed to the declamations of Bob Dylan singing “It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)”, and in that moment, I realized what a paper-thin and probably arbitrary line it is that separates visionaries from madmen.
[“Rambling Lips Dylan” is cribbed from “Rambling Lips X”, the name Jon Handelsman gave to a well-known schizophrenic man who roamed Ann Arbor in the '80s.]
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