__FROM THE CASE HISTORIES OF ONE JOSHUA JOHN WEISS OF 1108 NORTH ONEIDA IN STORM LAKE, IOWA, PRESENTLY A SENIOR AT STORM LAKE HIGH SCHOOL AND AFFLICTED BY A MYRIAD OF MOOD DISORDERS, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO MAJOR DEPRESSIVE EPISODES (DSM-IV, 320-327), AND HYPOMANIC EPISODES (ibid., 335-338). PATIENT IS PRESENTLY SUFFERING FROM SOME FORM OF DELUSIONAL DISORDER AND HAS DICTATED THE FOLLOWING TO DR. MASSE ON OCTOBER THE THIRTEENTH, 1998 (SECTION 451C AS FOLLOWS):__
-- How are we feeling today, Josh? fragte the now corpulent Dr. Masse, who had been chosen to "aid" our savior in his mental misadventures not so much for her skill (of which there was none) but rather for her gender, as it was mutually agreed by all on the board that, should a male psychiatrist attempt to treat our savior, our savior would immediately jump upon said psychiatrist (despite the two straightjackets, mind you, fair readers), rip asunder the clothing of the good doctor, and attempt to sodomize him. Such would surely not have been the case. In any case, Dr. Masse had been chosen, and a fine doctor she thought she was, too. All sorts of medication had been tried, all of which were ingested and immediately regurgitated, for our savior did not trust the System which had incarcerated him, and rightfully so, for each and every one of these pills had been designed specifically to eliminate our savior (and if that had happened, dear readers, imagine how dull a story I would be telling you now! But now, let us return to the scene, for Dr. Masse has not heard our savior's reply and is about to ask her question again.).
-- How are we feeling today, Josh? fragte the corpulent Dr. Masse (see? I told you so.).
-- my name is joshua. joshua. (How masterful that our savior's parents should have chosen a name so close to the Hebrew for the pagan Jesus of Nazareth. How cunning an observation! Surely his mother must have been a virgin!)
-- Certainly, Josh (what an evil antagonist! How very Judas of her! The very betrayal of a given name makes one cringe, fair readers, avert your eyes from such horror!). How are you feeling otherwise?
-- i am cold. very cold. exceedingly cold.
-- Would you like anything, then?
-- only my photograph.
-- Which one?
-- the one i took. of the milk. the single stream of milk i poured against a black background. it's so beautiful, really it is. i'd like so much to have it hanging here.
__PSYCHIATRIC SUPERVISOR'S NOTE: THIS IS IN REFERENCE TO A PICTURE THE YOUNG BOY NEVER ACTUALLY TOOK, AND HIS DESCRIPTION OF IT IS ENTIRELY FALSE. HE INTENDED TO TAKE A PICTURE AGAINST A BLACK BACKGROUND OF HIS OWN EJACULATE IN TRAJECTORY. THANKFULLY HE WAS CONFINED BEFORE THIS HERESY COULD BE COMMITED.__
-- Is there anything else, then?
-- no. nothing.
-- I shall take my leave, in that case. Let me know when you feel more cooperative.
With that our feared antagonist waddled out of the room and into oblivion. Unfortunately, though our savior was GOD and man combined, he did not know of the small microphone which the evil Dr. Masse had placed on the wall in order to record our savior's private thoughts.
-- was meint es, schwul zu sein? what means it, gay to be? it means always having to say you're sorry, that's what. isn't that ridiculous. always apologizing for every little thing you never did just so you'll be liked and accepted and happy and loved. god deliver me from this cell. could you ever imagine such terror. and all the strife i've been through and caused and it's all for nothing really when you get right down to it nothing really matters. i remember just a few days ago i was happy (as you know, ever-present reader, he was *not*, in fact, happy) at home but i was so horny so very very horny and i was getting tired of finding my only relief in masturbation (in later texts, our savior even refers to himself as "Onan," as well as, on rare occasions, "the divine marquis."). so i came here. i needed help (take note! our savior came into his cell willingly! what bravery and self-sacrifice!). i need help still. but not this help. and now i can't leave. and i can't find any relief. i wish i had my picture.
__NOTE: SEX, SEX, SEX, WHY IS IT ALWAYS SEX WITH THIS BOY? COULD IT BE BECAUSE HE IS AS OF YET A COMPLETE VIRGIN SEXUALLY? A TOPIC FOR FURTHER STUDY.__
-- und darum bin ich trés triste. it's enough to drive a boy batty. i so much want to be rid of this sexuality. i hate being a homosexual, for nothing good ever comes from it. if i were heterosexual, i would be happy, but i am not, and i am not consequently. i wish i could rip my sexuality from my body, just reach in deep and tear it out from the source and leave it on the side of the road, a bleeding, pulsing phallus, and start fresh with something different. oh how happy i would be! but oh how i love the sight and smell of boys. *sniff sniff* ah, the sweet stench of prepubescence. i can smell you a mile away, bane of my existence, innocent little child of GOD unawares of my deep desire for you to be the little brother i never had and never wanted. oh, my innocent little child of GOD, how matthieu would have loved the way you walked for he was just like me in that respect but no, i had to be firm and sing to him very gently "go to him bend to him kiss him good day darling my darling 'tis all (and yes, our savior could hit that high G without so much as the blink of an eye) i could say" and by GOD if he didn't do just that. so i went home and spilled my seed and pretended i was an artist and that was all fine and dandy. only sometimes i talked with people and i thought they liked me ...
... and then they did something whorish and i was insanely jealous even though they thought i was the scum of the earth. ew. he bleaches her hair, wants to get both ears pierced, and his tongue, too! gross!
-- at a.j.'s annual party i said "Wheeeeee!" too many times and i had steely dan used on me and i've never felt better in my life. it's real boyish. and i am a boy. faintly i hear an oncoming thunder(badadabarongthondunarandenonnommolasoraffonibadadabamishadanothonndenenderlannothadanumoraffamoronuk!)storm and i await the rain.
__HE GETS DOWN ON HIS KNEES AND LEANS FORWARD, WITH HIS CHIN ON THE BATH MAT. "ALLAH," HE SAYS. HE LOOKS BACK AND GRINS AT HER. DEAR god WHO AM I TO ACCUSE?__
nothing would please me more than to hear your voice
now appearing for three nights only, november 19, 20, and 21 in ames, iowa at the fifty-second annual all-state music festival! joshua will be a tenor in the choir for the second year in a row, and will be standing with all the other people who are 5' 10". if you should happen to recognize him by his long, black trenchcoat, trademark lapel pin, and narrow glasses, do say hello. other distinguishing features he might display include oddly-coloured hair (most likely black) and one or more ear piercings. say hello. he doesn't bite unless you want him to.