Growing up in the ‘burbs, I knew from friends whose parents were pill poppers.

Birth control, antidepressants, antipsychotics, tranquilizers, you name it, kids would search their homes looking for all sorts of things including Christmas presents but also nefarious objects like cigarettes and yes…gasp! condoms.

Curiosity killed the cat. It also supplied kids with free supplies of goodies, turning whole neighborhoods into collective pharmacies.

The “dark side” of modern civilisation?

Perhaps.

So it is we are brought forward into the world of cinema, the latest flick, Side Effects, questioning the definition of reality, whether due to drug side effects or mental gymnastics.

You can see for yourself, or read this prereview that reveals a little.

A contemporaneous event ties together the suspension of reality in film and the suspended colloidalism of reality — the continuing saga of Ashleigh Brilliant, chronicled by the man himself:

Wits End
Dear Friends,

February 1, 2013. Greetings from the Loony Bin (or, if you prefer, the Booby Hatch.) You may remember my telling you that I was once (at the age of 20) a (voluntary) patient in a mental hospital for several weeks. Since then I’ve been happily able to stay clear of such resorts — until today, when I find myself, at the age of 79, once again (and I must emphasize, again voluntarily) a guest in one. The big, and to me very interesting, difference is that the first time, back in 1954, my problem was feeling too good — what the psychiatrists call being “manic.” I was in such an elated state that I couldn’t go on with my normal life as a college student, but wanted to talk all the time, in a way that was very unusual for me. This and other bizarre behaviors and feelings eventually made me realize that I needed help.

Now, however, the shoe is on the other psychiatric foot. Instead of being too happy, I have been abysmally depressed, and anxious, to the embarrassing point of really not wanting to go on living. As before, I know this is not normal, even for someone of my age, especially for a person in good physical shape, as I have kept myself, after making a good recovery from a serious accident two years ago.

But what’s REALLY interesting is that, despite the lapse of time, and despite the fact that I have never had even a second “manic” episode in my whole life, (though I have had many experiences of depression) that one single manic episode qualifies me as being “BI-POLAR” (and hence a victim of “bi-polar disorder”) with all the rights and privileges pertaiining thereto. I am still finding out just what these are, because it was only last night that I accepted the label, although my psychiatrist had been trying to pin it on me for months.

What made the difference was my following his suggestion to look it up for myself. And sure enough, if you type in “single manic episode,” you get a whole raft of references to bi-polar disorder, even if the single episode was years and years ago.

So this is all very new stuff to me, and so is the facility in which I now find myself — a sort of semi-secret closely-secured section of our main Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital. The unit itself, obviously not wishing to carry the stigma of a “Psycho Ward” is generally referred to simply as “5-E.”

I am still learning the ropes here — to say which, in this context, is an unforgivable faux pas, because ropes of any kind, together with a whole long list of other possibly helpful items to a would-be suicide, are strictly taboo in these precincts–and even the rooms are designed to provide minimal leverage or support for such attempts. For example, there are no hooks, towel-racks, or exposed piping.

But apart from making it harder to kill yourself while they have you here, what can they actually do for you? In my case, the main hope seems to be to find the pill or pills which will give me good sleep in the night, and a less miserable day to follow.

February 5, 2013. It’s now 4 days later, and I’m glad to say I’ve already been discharged from the Hospital. The answer in my case seems to have been a combination of 2 drugs, a “tranquillizer” called ATIVAN and a “mood-stabilizer” called LAMICTAL. They’ve been working fine so far — much better than any of my pre-5-E meds, and with any luck, I hope they will keep me from making any further forays into the Polar zones — though I still hate to admit that mere chemicals can have such crucial effects on how we think and feel.

In any case, we are all now happily out of January, which for me (and perhaps for many of you) has always been the most difficult month of the year.

All the best,
Ashleigh Brilliant

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ASHLEIGH BRILLIANT, 117 W. Valerio St. Santa Barbara CA 93101 USA. Phone (805) 682-0531 Orders:(800) 952-3879, Code #77. Creator of POT-SHOTS, syndicated author of I MAY NOT BE TOTALLY PERFECT, BUT PARTS OF ME ARE EXCELLENT. 10,000 copyrighted BRILLIANT THOUGHTS available as cards, books etc.World’s highest-paid writer (per word). Most-quoted author (per Reader’s Digest.) Free daily Pot-Shot cartoon: http://www.ashleighbrilliant.com CATALOGS:[h&m included]. Starter $2. Complete Printed Text version: $75. Electronic Text-Only (emailed $25, on CD $30). Electronic Illustrated Catalog/Database (CD only) $105 (includes shipping anywhere). Details: http://www.ashleighbrilliant.com/IllustratedCatalog.html