NYC DSM

by Alan Hanson and Hallie Bateman

Recurring Arrival Delusion
An endless thought-loop, regardless of how many times it is proven incorrect, dedicated to the idea that each and every train in the city is running perfectly fine — -except for yours. Your train must be re-routed today. Broken. Driven into the sea. Where is it? It is definitely not here. There goes the F. And another. But your train will not be coming today. Why are you still standing there?

Umbrella Creation Disorder
Repeated ideation that the splayed, discarded umbrellas that litter the sidewalks from fall to spring are more than inanimate objects, more than bird-like carcasses scattered through the garbage veins of New York. No, these left-behind umbrellas certainly have souls! Are connected in some way, stitched to some cosmic fabric. Hallucinations include but are not limited to animation of said object and visual ascension/descent to heaven/hell. Sufferers of this condition are heavily prone to hoarding.

Gravitational Projections
The inescapable fear that any number of objects may plummet from the sky directly onto your skull. Sure, it starts with the air conditioners. Sidestepping fire escape ladders which undoubtedly come lose sometimes. Art, as well, as the city is constantly affixing interpretations of feelings to elevated facades. Yes, art can be the death of you in a new way. Somehow, defying all reason, a businessman hurls a Keurig from forty floors up and bulls-eye, your ticket’s punched. Empire State pennies. Heart-attack birds. Just some bullets, a handful of bullets. Why? Some nut tossed a handful of bullets off a skyscraper, I don’t know why. This is New York City, baby! This city is ALIVE! And you, only you, shall suffer the consequences.

Fartphobia
A deep, anxiety inducing belief that the wretched scent of the city is in fact a near-sentient cloud of fart, tooted up the street and snaked its way to you like some methane predator, attached itself to your face, submerging your entire head in its poisonous vapors, so pungent and thick that your tongue could serve as a fecal sample. This is the cloud you will die in.

Rat King Personification
Transcending the normal amount of distain and disgust at an entanglement of many rats, colloquially the “Rat King”, this disorder instills in you the hyperaware fear that not only is a Rat King perpetually in your immediate vicinity, but more often than not the Rat King is coming from inside the house — within you, transforming you. Defying logic and mirrors, you convince yourself of a new form, a more fitting form, as the vile amalgam of many city rodents. And it makes sense, doesn’t it? You tangled mess of wants and needs, scurrying around clawing at those around you, begging for connection, trapped and driven mad by your fate-less insertion into the dizzy lives of others, disgusted by your hunger for survival, your blind grasps at meaning, yearning to show your disgusting self openly and honestly, in your truest form, a Rat King of flaws and emotional disease.

Alan Hanson is a writer from California. @liuvbutts247 is his twitter handle.

Hallie Bateman is a freelance illustrator in Brooklyn and her twitter is @hallithbates.