I once had a homeless person tell me that he needed thirty cents to have enough money to buy a chicken sandwich so that the aliens would come and rescue him and take him back to the promised land. Enjoying his story, I gave him thirty cents. He thanked me and started to walk off. He turned around and started laughing, "There's no damn aliens, ya dummy! I just wanted me a sandwich!" He laughed and laughed and laughed as he walked away.

Have you ever found a certain amount of understanding in yourself by hearing the ramblings of people considered "crazy" or "dangerous?"

Because, seriously, Jesus and the President do take a lot of people's money.

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

Answers

OK I have a crazy person story.

My brother lives about 2 hours away from me. I drive in to pick him up and then go see my father for father's day. I stop in at the coffee shop near his house to call him and let him know i was nearby. As my brother answer's my call some nutjob comes up to me and starts spouting crazy psychobabble. When i say "excuse me I'm on the phone to my brother" He shouts:

"that's not your brother, your sister is your brother!"

Hmmm, okay, turn away because he's starting to creep me out.

He then grabs the phone, says "your'e not talking to anyone on this phone" and hangs it up! I haven't gotton to speak to my brother yet, who knows what he may be thinking. I turn to this guy, who suddenly realizes that I'm about to inflict a hate crime on him. He puts his hands up and says "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, here take this" He reaches into his pocket and comes up with a ten dollar bill and puts it on top of the phone. The guy then runs out of the coffee shop.

Ok, look around for the cameras, because my brother has obviously set me up to be on candid camera or something. No cameras...Ok, pick up the phone call my brother back and tell him i'm in town and i would tell him the story later. Oh yeah, grab the ten spot from on top of the phone and bought my brother lunch with it on the way to see my father.

That sister is your brother line still cracks me up though. My sister would probably get a kick out of it too.

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

This wasn't my experience first hand, it was my mothers.

One day sometime ago she went to some fast food chicken place while I wait outside for her (I have to prelude this story by saying no matter what fast-food chicken place you go to around here they never have anything but legs and thighs cooked, and it always takes the a long time to get any service). As she entered Popeye's, from the car I saw this woman, who was flailing her arms about screaming, apparently they were out of prepared white meat so everyone had to wait. Meanwhile the woman starts screaming at the guy.

"I'm Huuungrrry, throw me a corn on the cob!" "I'm huungrrry throw me a chicken leg!" "I'm huungrrry throw me a neck!"

My mother told me that the whole place erupted into nervous laughter, as the woman lost her mind to her stomach. I think the interesting part of the story is that I think everyone waiting who was hungry might have wanted to say the same thing but were inhibited by "sense," so maybe crazy people do have some type of advantage because she said what everyone else was probably thinking. To this day when I am waiting for food, I always snicker when I think about that woman.

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

The town in which I attended college has the proud distinction of also being the home of the South's most famous mental institution. I was a staff singer at a downtown church and many interesting people from the crazy house attended regularly.

There was this woman named Donna who, I remain strongly convinced, was actually a man. She had a little job cleaning the church on the weekdays and, if she saw you in there rehearsing, would corner you and some weird shit would go down.

For example, my first meeting with Donna (Don) occurred when she walked up to me and began making choking sounds, flailing her hands in front of her face. I thought I was going to have to go all "911!" on her and was asking her if she was ok when she took a huge breath and stage-whispered "I can't talk in here." She pulled me out the front door, grabbed her nose with one hand, raised the other into the air and said, in a very relieved voice, "I can only talk out in the sun with my hand to God and my nose closed."

But of course.

That was just the first of many encounters I had with Donna and her beehive wig.

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

Henry Rollins' Sky King:

"Three hundred dollars a day, 2100 dollars a week. Bicycle tires, sombreros dropped out of the air. Ah.. I got a hot dog stand. Winter sports in the wintertime, summer sports in the summertime. Mother, father, marines on top of the moutain. Ah... got two dollars for a beer?"

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

When I was in high school I worked at a little hamburger/pie shop downtown. There was a man named Lance who use to come in and drink coffee. I think at one time he was a PhD in some science. But by the time I knew him Schizophrenia had taken over. He wasn't homeless but he smelled awful. I think he lived with his sister and she and her husband gave him five dollars a day to roam the streets (fuckers). We could definately tell if he had taken his medication or not, because when he didn't he was the devil. When he had taken his medication he was super sweet.

Lance on medication: "Pretty girl. Prrrreeeetttyyyy laaaaaddddy. Can I have more coffee? Your so pretty. What's your name? That's right, Misty. Can I hold your hand?"

Her use to reach out and touch me with his index finger and then giggle like a school girl. Harmless.

Lance not on medication: "Bitch! Stupid little fucking BITCH! I am going to tear your bitch head off and stick it in that ice machine over there. Give me some coffee! COOOOOOFFFFFEEEEE!You slimy octopus. You slimy octopussy. Pussy! Pussy!"

He didn't scare me. I would put up with his shit for about ten minutes then I would tell him to get the fuck out. All I had to do was threaten him with the cops. He would tell me he was going to kill me and I would just laugh. The best part was when people would be in the diner eating lunch. You should have seen the look on some faces when Lance started talking about ripping my head off. Priceless. My little sister was in the diner one night when he flipped out and whenever she would see him coming she would cry. I look for him sometimes when I go home, I wonder if he is still alive. It makes me very sad that he was once so brilliant and just literally lost his mind. The people who owned the diner were complete dicks, but one thing about them, as long as Lance was good, he was allowed to come in and drink his coffee. Sometimes I would see her slip him some free pie.

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

The summer I was eighteen, I worked at a Hallmark shop. We got all kinds of folks in there but there was one woman I'll never forget--- The "You Wanna Know About Marriage?" Lady.

You wouldn't really have noticed her except she'd be wearing a heavy Winter coat on a 97 degree summer day.She'd walk in off the street all quiet and composed and start to peruse the cards. Once she got to the wedding or anniversary cards the trouble began.

"Ohhh, marriage," she'd lean her head back and take a deep breath. "Let me tell YOU about marriage," she'd say to no one in particular. Then she'd rant about marriage, how men are stupid, how love doesn't exsist. She'd stay in the same place, with her head tipped back for quite awhile. Oh, and she wouldn't let anyone by her to look at the cards in front of her--she'd do this sort of dodge ball move without looking at the person trying to get by her. It was amusing in a way.

Until my evil employer decided we needed to do something about her. One day he got nervous that she'd do something to the store or a customer, so he sent me over to stand by her. She decided to change her ranting style and instead turned to me while pointed her finger in my face all the while yelling about how I shouldn't ruin my life by mating.

Finally I just walked away and she stayed put in the aisle. My employer told me to go back there and I told him to cram it with a walnut.

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

Oh, I haven't thought of Dan, Dan, The Stinky Man in years.

Dan-Dan, as we used to call him, was a regular customer in the steakhouse I worked at in college. The restaurant was quite close to both the University Hospitals and the VA Hospital, so between the two, we had quite our share of interesting characters. Dan was by far the best.

Dan-Dan did not bathe. Ever. We dreaded his showing up on a Friday night because it meant figuring out all sorts of calculations for putting him downwind of the rest of a full restaurant. He also chain- smoked, easily killing off a pack a visit. He rarely ordered, but just drank cup after cup of coffee. Oh. And occasionally, he would forget to go to the bathrooom when he had to go to the bathroom. That generally got him barred from the premises for a few months til we'd relent and let him back in.

The story we heard of Dan-Dan was that he'd been a brilliant math student, working on his Doctorate, when he snapped. This was backed up by his tendency to occasionally jump up from his seat, shout "I've found it! I've found the basis for my dissertation!" and run to the phone to call... someone. The amazing thing was, he was completely lucid when you spoke to him of math. He used to act as unofficial advisor to several math students who worked at the restaurant, telling them what classes to take, helping them with tough problems, etc.

I'd completely forgotten him until today. Wonder what ever happened to him.

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

There was this guy who used to hang outside a grocery store that we shopped at while living in our first apartment. He was a veteran, and would sit outside by the buggy rack all day with a cup hoping for money. Whenever the automatic door opened, no matter if people were coming in or out, he would grab the side of his skull and yell, "OW! You hit me in my goddam head!!!" The first time he did this to me as I was walking in I nearly jumped out of my skin, but Charlie said it was okay, that was what he said all the time, and assured me it would happen again when we came out of the store. Sure enough, he did it again, and he wasn't even done saying it to the people who came out before us, so it was more like, "OW! You hit me in my--OW! You hit me in my goddam head!!!" After a while he stopped scaring me, and I started to give him some change. I would apologize (for hitting him in his goddam head) and ask if he was okay, and he would very sweetly tell me he was indeed fine. We moved, and I don't know what became of him.

Also, I worked for an optometrist in high school, and we had a patient that suffered from a split personality disorder, so sometimes he would show up for his appointments, sometimes he wouldn't. Sometimes he would come in wearing a spotless 3 piece suit, smelled of nice, clean aftershave, and had an enormous, perfectly formed afro...sometimes he came in smelling like a zoo, wearing filthy clothes that didn't fit at all, and his matted hair would have, uh, stuff in it. On the good days, he would speak to everyone kindly, and always had a textbook of some kind tucked under his arm. On the bad days he would only grunt in response to questions, and we had to lead him through even the tiniest of processes. But, he always paid in full, cash, and he always did what the doctor asked him to do. He was never violent, just strange.

Pamie, I laughed so hard while reading today's entry. I love to hear stories about crazy people. Keep 'em coming everybody!

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

There was a girl named Gail at the small college where I went to school. She often did some sort of tech job for the plays, so she attended all the cast parties as well. She was quiet, a bit homely, and strange. She never said a word at the parties for years, until one time . . .

One time Gail stood at the outer circle of a lively, theatrical conversation at one of these cast parties (this was before the dancing on the coffee tables but after the pot smoking). She was silent throughout most of the conversation (indeed, it would've been hard to get a word in edgewise) until there was a sudden lull. Seizing her opportunity, Gail spewed forth her contribution to the conversation:

"I had a cracker at a party, once."

Being the cruel, cruel theatre people that we are, we silently nodded at this assertion, then, after a beat, went on with our own conversation. This phrase, however, fell into common usage as one our favorite non-sequitors. Whenever someone said something another considered inappropriate or just irrelevant, we'd exclaim, "I had a cracker at a party once!" and laugh uproariously.

Gail ended up dating the guy who would always greet you with "Good morning" in the middle of the night or "Good evening" first thing in the morning. I was happy they found each other, as I don't think anyone else was capable of understanding them.

If I have more time, I'll tell you about Patty, who was even stranger than Gail...

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

I was living in San Francisco, which has an enormous homelessness rate, going to the American Conservatory Theatre. There were several homeless I would come in contact with on a regular basis -- the blind guy playing "What a Wonderful World" while busking downtown, the "cat lady" asking for cigarettes. But there was this one guy who always wore a (dirty) sports jacket and slacks who would get all worked up and furious at his imaginary friend and stand there on the corner shaking his cane and screaming at him.

I was a little afraid of him until one day one of my classmates remarked, "You know, if I had the character placement this guy does, I nail every audition."

And *that* is why you should never date actors.

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

I was visiting my friend at New York. Now, I am not from the US at all, I'm from a completely foreign country, so I have no idea what goes on there.. Anyways, we were going down the street when suddenly this guy bumped into us. He looked 15 or so, and he was really cute so we both smiled in embarrassment. He was like "oh.. sorry!!" and then started laughing "JENN!!!".. now my friend's name is Jennifer but no one calls her by her first name, she is annoyed be it. Everyone calls her Liz (her name is Jennifer Elizabeth)... anyway I looked at her and she was a bit scared "who are you?.. do I know you?" so he was like "No you don't... Can I have 5 dollars?!!" we both looked at him oddly and started walking. He stood in place and looked at us oddly. "WHATEVER LIZ!!".. now THAT was a shock. We turned to see him starting to walk away. I was standing in place when my friend ran to him.. and then she was like "man how do you know me?!!" and then the weirdness was cleared... he saw my friend at work once. She was helping out in some store and had her name tag on.. and he remembered her and recognized her.

But that guy was friggin' weird I can't get my mind off it!

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

I didn't actually speak to this woman, so I have no proof that she's crazy, but a couple of months ago I was driving home at about 10:30 at night. I'm sitting at a stop light and on the corner, there's a homeless woman just standing there. I watch her for a second and then realize she's standing kind of funny, like almost squatting. Then I notice that her skirt is hiked up to her knee. And then I realize, this woman is standing on a street corner TAKING A PEE. That on arguably one of the busiest streets in the fourth largest city in America, this woman, in front of me, numerous other cars, God and everybody, is relieving herself with no shame whatsoever.

And for some weird reason, I respected this woman for it. There was a fence right behind her, but did she bother to go behind it? Of course not. She did what she had to do and didn't give a damn who saw. You see men do it all the time, but a woman? Never. I found it oddly liberating. Until I looked over again and saw her wiping herself and throwing the paper towel down on the ground. Then I was just grossed out. Then I was disgusted with myself for finding it so amusing to begin with. But I still think the woman had some balls (or she just really was crazy).

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

Actually, I never see men peeing on the sidewalk. Maybe I'm not looking closely enough.

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

Jeff, that's because there's always one crazy person in every gathering. You keep looking around and not finding the crazy, don't you?

I'm just sayin'.

WAN SEE! WAN SEE!

Oh, and by the way, I'm so stealing, "I had a cracker at a party, once." That's beautiful.

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

Oh, Pamie, you're gonna make the tiny little theatre department at Franklin College of Indiana so damn proud!

It is a good phrase, isn't it? We also did the chicken dance as an energy warm-up before shows; the Chicago Moving Company (a dance/theatre group) stole that one from us years ago...

-- Anonymous, April 19, 2000

When I was a teenager, I used to attract loons. It was really creepy. People were always walking up to me and starting (what passed for) conversations.

The most recent encounter I've had with the, um, disconnected was on Christmas day a couple of years ago, I went to an AA meeting out of town. As usual, I introduced myself to a few people, including a man who responded, "How do you do? I'm Jesus Christ."

I'm so sorry to say that I didn't think to wish him a happy birthday. I'll never get another opportunity like that...

-- Anonymous, April 20, 2000

Jeff, come to New Orleans during Mardi Gras and you can see members oof both sexs peeing everywhere but in the overflowing port-o-lets. And Kate, I am so disappointed in you, how often do you get something like that, it was almost gift wrapped!

I have noticed that with most crazy people, if you put a small child next to them their rantings don't seem that strange.

"Stop lookin' at that! Stop lookin at that!" See, you put a little kid next to the person screaming that and it almost seems nor

-- Anonymous, April 20, 2000

A mime started tickling me once. I ran away, down the street until he gave up. It was in San Francisco. Where else?

-- Anonymous, April 20, 2000

A crazy person once cured me of a bad, bad crush... it was on a male friend of mine, who lived in another state. One weekend he came to visit me at school, and we ended up wandering around a public park. We were sitting on a rock next to a duck pond talking when a homeless guy came up to us and offered to recite us some poetry if we gave him a dollar. My friend, who fancied himself quite the poet, said no thanks. The guy said "I'll give you one for free. Here's one by Byron: There was a young man from Nantucket..." He proceeds to recite about a half-dozen dirty limericks. I was almost falling off the rock laughing -- it was hilarious. My friend the poet was getting angrier and angrier, and finally he popped off with some snide comment about how impressed he was with the homeless guy's intellect. The homeless guy stood there for a minute, then said "Yeah, well, I floss my teeth with a tampon string, too!" At that point I was laughing so hard tears were running down my face, and as my friend prepared to storm off, the homeless guy said "See, at least SHE'S got a sense of humor!"

-- Anonymous, April 20, 2000

mary ellen, that is a great story! how handy that that homeless guy acted like an asshole-radar for you. i sure hope you tipped him. how often does someone do a favor like that for you?

-- Anonymous, April 20, 2000

I know a guy who tells a story about the time he got panhandled by a psychic bum. He says he was walking through a park one day when a homeless guy came up to him and says, "Give me 27 cents!" So my friend reached into his pocket, and happened to have exactly that amount in change. He gave it to the guy, already a bit weirded out. The homeless guy then told him, "You're going to get hit by a car tomorrow. But don't worry, you'll be all right."

My friend got hit by a car while walking through a crosswalk the next day. And, as foretold by his friend the psychic bum, he was fine.

-- Anonymous, April 20, 2000

Out at UMASS AMherst there is a man who wears burlap sacks and carries around a club. We call him Hemp Man. He usually runs around in springtime--I have no idea what he does in the winter. Maybe he hibernates, maybe he actually clothes himself. who knows.

-- Anonymous, April 22, 2000

I worked for a time in a prison. Our mental health care system had just had some cutbacks so people who should not have been in jail but a mental institute ended up in my unit. It was call the A.T.U. or Assesment & Treatment Unit. I refered to it as the Astronaut Training Unit. One night the police brought in a man who said he was Jesus. Well this is not that unusual in itself but I had to observe him on camera for a while to be sure that he did not try to injure himself. He spent the whole time kneeling on the floor praying and then spreading his hands apart above his head and calling out. I switched on the monitoring microphone and listened to him talk to God (I assumed as he called him father) as he tried to explain that it was not his fault that they (we) did not believe in him and he was afraid it was going to end badly as it did the last time he came. He went on about how he did not want to fail but it was not the right time and all. This went on for hours and was very enlightening. He finally said to whomever he was speaking to that he would do what he could with the whatever was presented to him. He dropped his head and asked for help to stand up, he reached up with on hand and went from his knees to his feet smoothly as if lifted by the hand he had raised. It was pretty spooky (it still makes my nipples hard to think about it) but I wondered about how crazy he actually was after that. Another thing, why are psycics ok when they hear voices and considered good channelers of spirits, but a person who, in any other context, hears voices is crazy. I think they could be the same voices but the channeler knows what is happening and is comfortable with it. Or maybe I am a kook as well : )

-- Anonymous, April 23, 2000

All I have to say is...What do you mean CRAZY?Everyone I know calls me crazy but I absolutely believe everything I believe.I don't think anyone is crazy really.Everyone just has their own personality,and I think those who are called crazy believe they're the normal ones and they think everyone else is crazy.I actually enjoy hanging around those everyone else calls crazy.They're alot more fun.The so called "norm" gets so monotonous and boring.Its great to see some people living in their own worlds;people who see things differently.Most crazy people have wonderful and fun personalities.I dunno about you,but I love crazy people myself.

-- Anonymous, July 13, 2001