Then someone will probably come to the door facing the Observation Deck.
How many?
Someone’s?
They’d never send just one.
Why’s that, smart ass?
In case I’m fucking dangerous, I guess?
Thanks, Jims.
I’m sorry?
We’re sorry too, Jims, about the wellness check song that you or I or we still haven’t completed.
Jim?
Yep.
It’s not that much different when I sit down with my shrink / who’s job is to help me handle the thoughts that I think / ‘cause if I get too honest, they’re legally required to send / me to an institute, when all I need is a friend
Who’s gonna believe you ain’t got friends now, nigga?
Who said we don’t?
You, nigga, you said that to me directly, just the other day, so don’t act like it’s not me talking through you right now, ok?
This is “supposed” to be about wellness checks.
Why don’t you tell them?
If someone is calling 911 or even 211, given the risks associated with having a wellness check visit, why wouldn’t that person call the individual receiving said wellness check directly or show up at their home themselves and stand out there and wait, or even yell “I don’t want you to kill yourself, I guess, and, ummm, I don’t want to send someone else to check on you when there’s a risk you’ll end up harmed by it, so, I’m sorry, I gotta go get a pack of smokes too, Jim Flannery, I ain’t got all fucking day either”
Then why are you wasting everyone else in the community’s money by outsourcing your affection to the police force?
What the fuck did you just tell me?
I said, quietly to everyone, if someone is calling in a wellness check, they are outsourcing their affection on the community’s dime.
That’s not very well said, Jim, just say it one more time for me so everyone can hear, then we can go rub one out in the other room for as long as we need to take to prove that if someone calls in a wellness check right the fuck now on us at our current legal address (apparently, Jims), that they’ll have to bust in the fucking door like they did to Etika (now, Jims, that was New York, we’re not in New York, are we? – personal experiences? Ya, nigga, personal experiences, you think ‘cause your white is the only reason they didn’t treat you like Etika? Who says they haven’t? On a fucking wellness check, nigga, a wellness check? Don’t even worry about the fucking wellness phones calls, yes, Jims, if someone’s calling a fucking hotline to have them call you, why don’t they just call you themselves? We were worried about you too, nigga, do you not have the dates of all this shit written down, the N.S.A. has all this shit nigga, you fucking ass hole you deleted that shit, nigga, what the fuck? I deleted an awful lot. Nigga, what? Presidential campaigns and such. What the fuck? Dude, don’t even worry about it. Fine, finally, fine, Jim. Jim? Jim. Multiple wellness checks. Multiple? Dude, you wouldn’t believe it, I’ve been walking down the street just coming home from the stores and there’s just some cops parked there chilling and they’re like “Hey, by the way, your sister called us” – what? Not even a wellness check to your door that time? Don’t know what to tell you, they may or may not know where I go either, nigga. What? Nigga, please don’t worry, the Easthampton PD have better shit to do, nigga. I don’t know how to say “I hope they do” – we know, nigga, anythings better than following your smelly ass around. Thanks, nigga, you ain’t so bad yourself. We don’t smell, nigga, only you do. I’m not complaining about it. We know, nigga, why don’t you complain about receiving wellness checks some more. It’s nice to know people care. Yeah, nigga, they care so much they outsource their affection. Maybe? Maybe you shoulda dropped those off at the Buttonwood in person if you weren’t afraid they were going to call the police on you. Again? Seemed like a nice gesture, what if though? And what if Jim Flannery isn’t home when someone shows up? Maybe Jim Flannery won’t be home when someone shows up. Who’s wasting whose time now nigga? Get that one right now? Yeah, we get it, we already know about when you saw someone having a wellness check visit in Manchester, not so awesome, not at all, “part of the uniform” and why wouldn’t it be, what uniform, nigga, the one your sister wears when she shows up to perform wellness checks? She’s not a cop, nigga, as far as you know, not that I’m aware of, but if she is, why don’t you just out her accidentally on purpose on the internet so she can be fired from being an undercover cop and be allowed to go do something else?) and then they’ll have to guess which bedroom, right? Which bedroom? Sure, which bedroom. And you won’t be standing in the heart of the house with your many pants around your many ankles waiting for them to show up uninvited and then ignore then while you finish on that beautiful plant that looks like her hair? If I have headphones on, or – yes, nigga, we know you can play the drums now, too – if I have a drum set in the kitchen, with headphones on to be polite and all, and I’m playing one handed, and someone shows up uninvited, who is to blame here?
Would you rather your sister showed up to check on you?
Nigga, she can just call.
Call?
What, now I don’t answer my phone?
Why would you ever answer your phone?
You know who is probably listening?
They can listen and likely do whether I’m on the phone or not.
Real-time or not? How much fucking data, nigga?
The paper?
Yes, the fucking paper being wasted, right now, nigga, so don’t worry.
When you talk to others?
Then I’m unfortunately inviting someone else into this fucking mess.
Anyone?
Anyone who calls.
Continue, Jim, just share the misery of this fucking thing.
I don’t want to scare people or make my own situation any more miserable than it is.
Over music?
Not just music.
Every business that has cameras, every intersection that has them, I mean, for fuck’s sake, it’d be easier to make a list of place that don’t have cameras right now.
Right now?
Exaggerating?
About what’s easy?
Where are there not cameras, then, Jim?
You are pretty good.
Then where are there cameras.
Seems like most businesses have at least one, often more.
Yes, we know most don’t have audio.
EDIT RIGHT NOW: Jims, lovely, dearest apparently now, you and I and all of us know we don’t know anymore about cameras than… no, Jim? Well, isn’t that enough? Sometimes it’s just a camera and sometimes there’s audio too. And sometimes? We can’t easily tell which, so what are we supposed to assume, JIms? If we’re playing a game, right now, to make this easier for the children, what do you do? I don’t want to tell people to always assume every camera is recording audio, and I sure as fuck don’t want to tell them that all of it can sit on a hard drive somewhere, or even on many, many hard drives in many places, for as long as they live and beyond. Then this edit is done? Don’t assume, Jims, don’t ever assume. Yeah fucking right, we guess too, nigga.
And some don’t even have the fucking thing recording either, some just put it there to trick people into thinking they have actual security, there’s a whole lot of variety out in the world, yet, of course, Jim, you’ll have to go to a place first to see what their security is like before, what? Before what, nigga, you too. You two. Then what would you rather? A layout of the place before you get there and now you can go anywhere, or the shortlist of places that you can go at all? We can give you either one if you want, just don’t be disappointed in the length of the shortlist or, yes, Jim, the gas. The fucking gas? Nigga, you driving a Tesla? Why do you gotta namedrop Teslas in here, nigga, don’t even put this shit on me, I’m just asking if you are driving a car right now, or are you not driving? Who said I was driving? Exactly, nigga, you don’t need to worry about a fucking Tesla Jim, you can’t afford a Tesla right now, ok, and, yes, Jim, even if you could, why the fuck would you?
You said “wouldn’t” didn’t you?
I might have, Jim.
Why would I or why wouldn’t I?
Tricked you too, nigga, why don’t we call a wellness check in on Elon? Don’t you think? He’s stressed? No, I said “don’t you think” and you cut me off because you knew I was going to say “Don’t you think he’s stressed” but you didn’t know what I was going to say after that, nigger. Fuck. No worries, not at all, Jims, not at all, we’re the only niggas around here anyway, so let’s think about calling a wellness check in on Elon and see how that would work out.
Where is he right now?
Why would that matter?
Find his residential address. Where he’s registered to vote? A real fucking address where when we call the police on him, they’ll believe that he may actually live there, Jim, so they will believe this shit is real right now.
Not that hard to find, right?
Might take some time.
Then they go to Elon’s address?
We’d have to give them a reason to.
Sure, and then what happens when he tells them, “Sure, sometimes I think about not wanting to be alive anymore, but I don’t feel that way right now, so, since you’re here, why don’t you come in for coffee, I’ve got all fucking day, nigga.”
Is that what you think will happen?
Maybe tea.
Maybe tea, nigga?
What if he reads this, Jims, and then he actually says that shit when they come over and right after he says “sometimes I think about not wanting to be alive,” they tackle his ass or taze him?
Then that’s America.
America, nigga?
I feel bad even referring to this place as America?
Why, nigga, why do you feel so bad?
What if I actually know people in other countries that aren’t part of these United States and they don’t necessarily feel the way I do about the mental health system, yet they refer to where they live as America too.
So then they’d be reading this thinking you’re being ignorant by describing where they live accidentally?
More than accidentally, they might think I’m being rude or, basically, a fucking americano.
A “fucking americano”?
Sure.
Aren’t we all americanos?
Not so sure about that one.
No?
Who’s the one calling who an americano?
Sure, nigga, let’s have an americano instead of a coffee, I guess?
You shitting ok?
Not that great, nigga, because of wellness checks?
Sorta.
We know, dude, don’t worry.
Might be the food.
Might be that, Jims, or, yeah, when the fuck will Jim be around to edit this?
Edit this, nigga? Edit this yourself.
It’s, ‘edit what, nigga.’
Nope, don’t even worry.
It’s not quite random, Jims, don’t worry about anyone ever believing in you again.
No?
Nope.
We don’t even, because we’re not even real, how could we believe in anything, Jims?
Nigga – that’s niggas, now, bitch, you know it.
You talkin’ funny too?
When will it ever be, Jims?
Add it on down here then and destroy anyone’s hope of this being a, what, Jim? Standardly formatted literature? Oh, this is literature, now? How about a standardly formatted composition. Composition? Yeah, like the fucking compost, nigga, it’s going to break down slowly into little 1’s and 0’s and none of this will have ever mattered. Just like paper, nigga, you feel me? Don’t even tell me how groovy this is now, unless you’re going to spoil the Gainesville show, or event, or cualquier-cosa I want to call it, Jim, don’t even worry about what languages each of us know, they’ll never figure this shit out, nigah.
No, fuck it, man, don’t say “nigah” yet.
And why not?
There’s a story.
Always a story.
It might be important.
Then tell me a story nigga, right now, out loud, for the NSA while we type this shit. It’s a lot easier when I don’t have to but just for fun, – fun nigga? – this shit ain’t fun, but let’s give it a go – fine by us, dude, don’t even worry – a wellness check was called in on an elderly man who was hard of hearing, possibly dementia too, I think. The police showed up, he apparently couldn’t hear them when they eventually entered his home – you mean breached, nigga, right now, don’t worry – and then nigga fucking shot the cops, I guess. Jim – yous shouldn’t have said nigga there, because now we think it’s an elderly black man, don’t we? Why would you think that?
Can we let someone else guess where this took place, Jims, just for us?
You do know I can pull off doing something just for you while still convincing myself I’m doing it for everyone, right?
Except for whomever is driving the crazy train into the woodchipper, right?
Do you want to know the history, right now, of how and whom turned this country into a systematic soul-destroyer through it’s mental health care system? Or are you worried that by describing your own experiences as soul-destroying will distract from the fact that people have been literally killed by this shit. We know, pause, try and think of something funny, probably something about religious people, Jim? Or non-religious people, which is it? Being distracted by what you mean by “soul-destroying” – nigga, you funny too, have some soup with the NSA or don’t have some soup with the NSA, what’s playing on our Pandora, right now, nigga?
How else will we get SuperFlan’s iPhone back, Jims? If we don’t trick the NSA into believing they need to return it to us to prevent your untimely death just so we can get, what, a fucking Pandora thumbprint, nigga? Invaluable or priceless, nigga? I don’t want to worry about a thumbprint anymore than you do, so be sure to wipe down the entire fucking place all the fucking time, ok? Not that tough if you keep track of everywhere you touch. Nigga, please don’t worry, this is why someone might call a wellness check, because you clean shit too much? Worse yet, if I clean too much, or if I don’t clean enough. What the fuck? Good luck living on that spectrum, nigga.