Poets are bipolar-- musicians, OCD. I wonder if we’d have much art without insanity? Coleridge smoked *****, Poe preferred whisky. If not for their addictions would we have their poetry? Blake had manic visions; Hemingway was suicidal. The heights and depths of their emotions meant their minds were never idle. Garcia tripped on acid; Iommi did *******. Would they have played such blissful notes if they weren’t a bit insane? Yes, we must treat the ill, we want them with us still-- but if we lost all craziness there’d be genius that we’d miss.
When I posted this on Poetfreak a young woman was severely offended and demanded that I apologize. Apologize to...whom?