Quotes by Michael Thomas Ford

I didnt realize there was a ranking. I said. Sadie frowned. What do you mean? A ranking, I said. You know, whats crazier than what. Oh, sure there is, Sadie said. She sat back in her chair. First you have your generic depressives. Theyre a dime a dozen and usually pretty boring. Then youve got the bulimics and the anorexics. Theyre slightly more interesting, although usually theyre just girls with nothing better to do. Then you start getting into the good stuff: the arsonists, the schizophrenics, the manic-depressives. You can never quite tell what those will do. And then youve got the junkies. Theyre completely tragic, because chances are theyre just going to go right back on the stuff when theyre out of here. So junkies are at the top of the crazy chain, I said. Sadie shook her head. Uh-uh, she said. Suicides are. I looked at her. Why? Anyone can be crazy, she answered. Thats usually just because theres something screwed up in your wiring, you know? But suicide is a whole different thing. I mean, how much do you have to hate yourself to want to just wipe yourself out?

I believe that God—if he exists at all—is what we want him to be. The true God is unknowable, and so we dress him up in costumes that make him visible to us. Then we come up with a lot of very silly rules that we attribute to him and tell everyone if they dont follow those rules, they cant be part of the gang.

Just because your life isnt as awful as someone elses that doesnt mean it doesnt suck. You cant compare how you feel to the way other people feel. It just doesnt work.What might look like the perfect life - or even an okay life - to you might not be so okay for the person living it.

Faith, he had learned that night in front of the flickering television, was most glorious when it was most untouched by reason.

I knew people were talking, but I wasnt listening. I wasnt interested in anything anyone had to say.

I think he just loved being with the bears because they didnt make him feel bad. I get it too. When he was with the bears, they didnt care that he was kind of weird, or that hed gotten into trouble for drinking too much and using drugs(which apparently he did a lot of). They didnt ask him a bunch of stupid questions about how he felt, or why he did what he did. They just let him be who he was.

When I was a kid, I used to watch that show, sitting on the couch in my pajamas and wishing more than anything that one day Id just change into this other person. I thought that would explain everything. You know, about why I felt so different. Then Id find out that my mother was really an alien or that Id been bitten by a radioactive spider as a baby and it would all be okay because Id be able to fly and see through walls.. But it never happened. I just went on being me my whole life, until one day I realized that all those superheroes were doing was fighting themselves, and that getting to breathe underwater or shoot fire from your fingers didnt really make up for being screwed up in the first place. It was just the consolation prize - you got the great costume and the invisible jet for being a loser in everything else.

So thats it. Thats the big secret. I tried to kill myself on New Years eve. Just like Sadie did last night. Only she really did it. I dont know all the detatils, just the basics. She took a bunch of pills. I dont know what they were or where she got them. Id like to think they were Wonder Drug. Then at least she could have gone thinking she was flying.

He lifted his shirt, and on his back was the White Rabbit, wearing his waistcoat and looking at his watch. It was just like the illustration from the book. Only standing next to him, back-to-back, was another White Rabbit wearing a leather motercycle jacket and boots and smoking a cigar.

i swear to God, that was the question. Sometimes, I think theres someone up there just sitting around thinking of ways to make me look like a complete moron. Seriously, I bet theres an angel or more likely a demon assigned just to me. And every day it gets up and asks itself what it can do to ruin my life. well, today it got an A plus

The whiskey was a good start. I got the idea from Dylan Thomas. Hes this poet who drank twenty-one straight whiskeys at the White Horse Tavern in New York and then died on the spot from alcohol poisoning. Ive always wanted to hear the bartenders side of the story. What was it like watching this guy drink himself out of here? How did it feel handing him number twenty-one and watching his face crumple up before the fall of the stool? And did he already have number twenty-two poured, waiting for this big fat tip, and then have to drink it himself after whoever came took the body away?

Seven little crazy kids chopping up sticks;One burnt her daddy up and then there were six.Six little crazy kids playing with a hive;One tattooed himself to death and then there were five.Five little crazy kids on a cellar door;One went all schizo and then there were four.Four little crazy kids going out to sea;One wouldnt say a word and then there were three.Three little crazy kids walking to the zoo;One jerked himself too much and then there were two.Two little crazy kids sitting in the sun;One a took a bunch of pills and then there was one.One little crazy kid left all alone;He went and slit his wrists, and then there were none.

Anyone can be crazy. Thats usually just because theres something screwed up in your wiring, you know? But suicide is a whole different thing. I mean, how much do you have to hate yourself to want to just wipe yourself out?

That sounds weird: kill yourself. It makes it sound like you tried to murder someone, only that someone is you.

He said that I have to remember that even though Ive changed a lot in here, Im going back to a world that hasnt changed

He had never been a religious person. Even as a child he had found the notion of an omnipotent creator who punished his crations inconsistently for minor infractions of a vaguely defined moral code to be unthinkable to anyone with an ounce of sense.

When she saw me, my mother stood up and started to come toward me, but then stopped. I think maybe Cat Poop had told her not to make any sudden movements because they might scare me, like I’m a wild animal or something, because she kept looking at him and then at me. Finally she just said, “Hello, Jeff,” and sat down again next to my father.

Boney the snowman, was a crazy, whacked-out guy, with tattooed skin and a goofy grin, and he liked to get real high. There must have been some acid in the soda that he had, cause when he went and drank it, it screwed him up real bad. He led them to the psycho ward, right to the dear old doc. And when they asked him what was wrong he told them suck my cock.

Then he asked me which one I thought was most likely to happen. I wish I knew. I really do. But I don’t. You’d think that after living with these people for fifteen years I’d know a little something about them. But right now I feel like I don’t know my parents at all. I guesswhen you get down to it, I’ve never really thought about them as people. They’ve always been my parents. Now I have to think about them as people with feelings. What a pain.The funny thing is, I bet they feel the same way.

In my opinion any activity during which you can enjoy a beverage is not a sport. It is a party.