The Red Notebook

By Ian Alforrez

What if madness wasn't in us, but in the world around us? Amid the frenzy of city life, a lonely and tormented man, who considers himself the only lucid person in a world of "crazy people", embarks on a journey in search of meaning. Tormented by outlandish conspiracy theories and hallucinatory visions, he interacts with projections of his own mind, which makes him even more unbalanced. As he plunges deeper and deeper into this psychological labyrinth, surrounded by imaginary companions, he undergoes a transformation and discovers the simple beauty of life, while continuing to believe that the "normal" world around him is the real insane asylum.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AHZURIA PUBLISHING
• Release date: Oct 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223523536

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Logic of Madness

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That day I woke up with the deafening noise of traffic on the street. Cars honking nonstop, like it makes any difference to morning traffic. Hurried beings walked like zombies to work, hypnotized by routine. And I, the only one, are in this open-air madhouse.

I drank the coffee looking out the window on the fifteenth floor. Downstairs, the mass of people moved at the usual frantic pace. For me, however, it was the picture of insanity, automobiles honking, sirens in the distance, the smell of food from restaurants.

I went down looking at the numbers of the floors that appeared on the elevator window, and then I plunged into this river of bodies and alienated minds. I walked to the bus stop, already crowded with catatonic people who squeezed themselves without changing a word. Absorbed on their phones, they didn't even notice my presence.

Along the way, I saw several people talking on their own in the street, some smiling, others gesticulating vehemently. They had probably lost the ability to filter out thoughts, exposing their inner madness to the world around them.

On my way to work, I greeted colleagues who were wearing fancy clothes and accessories. My boss walked by and I pictured him dressed in a hot pink jacket, lemon green shoes, smiles at myself

At the managers' meeting, I suggested abolishing the wearing of ties, an idiotic habit. I was ignored. Trivial matters were debated with incomprehensible jargon, in an empty intellectual masturbation, a real waste of time.

At lunchtime, I went to the park to observe the ritual of the freaks in a suit, frantically dancing for the doves who watched that clunky ballet without understanding anything. Some held the jacket as a pair, others spun until dizzy on the grass, laughing. Public insanity.

At the diner, I saw people making extravagant requests. A fat man in a suit ordered a triple strawberry milkshake with chocolate bars, whipped cream and corn cake. Another lady demanded a burger without bread, just the meat puck, said she was on a diet.

At work in the afternoon, I signed so many papers that my hand tingled. It seems that the more paper they generate, the more productive they feel, they hardly know that 98% of these documents go to waste unread.

A colleague invited me to a happy hour after work, declined the invitation to drink and chatter banalities, preferred to go to the library to feed the mind with good literature. I was shocked by the size of the self-help section, the one that gets in the way of the help section, and it seems like everybody knows the perfect solution to somebody else's problem.

On the train back home, a woman wore sunglasses and chatted nonstop on her cellphone about her recent breakup, exposing her intimate life to strangers hysterically. I wanted to scream to keep quiet, but I kept myself.

The wagon was full of people with headphones, isolated in sound bubbles, each in their own personal world, ignoring everyone around, it's an intriguing collective loneliness, are these speakers a new religion?

At the station, colorful advertisements bombarded everyone with tempting images, inciting unnecessary desires. Consumerism without purpose, fruit of fragile minds. It is regrettable to see the power that advertisements exert on these sheep.

Walking home, a woman nearly ran me over with her bicycle. I asked her to be more careful, and she gesticulated obscenities. Distraught minds will find any reason to release their aggressiveness, so I decided to be resilient and not fight back.

At the corner, a child cried inconsolably, while his mother yelled on the phone unconnected to his tears. Poor boy, doomed to a loveless childhood in this cruel world. I offered him the lollipop he was carrying in his pocket, he had taken it as change earlier in a bakery since the owner claimed he had no coins, of course this was just a subterfuge to sell one more product, in this case the lollipop. But the bakery owner's maneuver turned out to be beneficial, I gave the lollipop to the boy and he paid me with a smile, which coin doesn't buy. Mom, on the phone, didn't even notice.

At the restaurant, after choosing a cozy and secluded corner, I saw a couple sitting at the table next door, soon began to argue heatedly. They were shouting out in vain at each other, oblivious to the people around them. How can adults not solve conflicts without this hysteria?

I left the restaurant, decided to walk away. On the street there was a beggar asking for coins, people passing by pretending not to notice him. I decided to give him the money I was taking to the movies, and the glow of gratitude in his eyes lightened my heartache.

On arriving home, my dog barked frantically and jumped at me, almost knocking me down. What a genuine joy, no filters! The unconditional love of an animal is purer than human madness.

I showered and lay down, but before I went to sleep, I heard my neighbors fighting and throwing objects. Screams, cries, glass breaking, I don't know how they can live like this, I wondered as I held the pillow in my ears.

Lying in bed I prayed thanking him for another day. Despite the madness around, there are signs of sanity, good hearts behind appearances. I dreamt of a world in which differences were no cause for discord, where we shared bread with the needy.

The next morning, a new day began, bringing hope. I had breakfast listening to the birds in the window, in harmony with nature. I remembered to take care of my plants, be quiet and resilient. I watered them fondly while whistling a soft melody.

On the street, horns and sirens echoed. But I noticed the flowers on the parapets, cats sunbathing in the windows. Beauty persevers among the city cacophony. I smiled at a gentleman sweeping the sidewalk and wished him good morning.

On the crowded bus, I gave my seat to a lady. She kindly thanked me and started talking to me. He talked about the granddaughter he was going to visit, showed photos on his cell phone. Little acts of true connection between strangers.

At lunchtime, I bought a sandwich and shared it with a homeless man. We sat on the bench in the square to eat and talk. He spoke of the ups and downs that life imposed on him, without self-pity. He thanked the meal with his eyes watered.

At work this afternoon, a colleague told me about her autistic son. He described the difficulties and prejudices they face, but also the small victories. We don't judge books by their cover, and we judge people by their appearance. In each one there is an unexplored universe.

Another colleague complained about the lack of funds for public education. Another criticized projects that deforest the Amazon Region. I saw that he wasn't the only one who didn't conform to the course of the world. Indignation can move mountains when constructive.

Coming off work, I bought a rose from a florist. She wrapped the flower in paper gently, as if wrapping a precious gift. I offered the rose to a lady sitting at the bus stop, and her smile lit up the falling night.

I went to the grocery store, the cashier talked to all the customers while he was shopping. He played with a kid, advised a lady about rice marks, told a joke to the boy behind me. It radiated humanity behind the gray uniform.

I got home, I rewatered the plants, like in a Zen ritual. Then I watched an uplifting film about respect for differences. A morally complex story exploring humanity in each of us, was the description. I dreamt that all temples and nations became schools and libraries.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of singing birds, a morning choir of urban sparrows. I went to the window and breathed in the night breeze. The sky was tinged with gold and lilac, promising a radiant day. Coffee water and homemade bread. Gratitude.

Walking to the bus stop, I was pondering my nocturnal thoughts. In my solitary crusade against insanity, do I also sometimes lose my sense? Maybe there's candor in somebody else's madness, and madness in my supposed candor.

At the bus stop, a girl offered me a wildflower. I accepted smiling and she came out bouncing, her crystalline laugh echoing. I put the flower in my lapel and felt that the day would flow well.

On the bus a musician played the violin, enchanting everyone. Sweet and melodious notes transformed the monotonous vehicle into a capsule of beauty and sensitivity. Flowing art, sowing enchantment in the harsh everyday. Souls connected through music.

Before I went to work, I went to the library and chose a book of subtle tales. Simple but profound stories that nourish the hungry soul. We are all pilgrims seeking meaning in this ephemeral existence. Is my quest for sanity vain?

On the street, a group of children played jumping rope and singing. I watched their smiling faces and forgot my worries for a moment. Childhood, scarecrow of melancholy. How can we keep this playful, curious, light-hearted facet alive?

I bought a bottle of water from a traveling salesman. The day was hot, and the kindness, refreshing. He told jokes as I laughed. Each meeting can quench our thirst for connection, as long as we are open to it.

I walked to the park, feeling the breeze playing with my hair. The sun penetrated between the leaves, bathing all in liquid gold. The pristine beauty of nature rested my heart agitated. I remembered that inside us also live secret gardens waiting for light.

In the work, I suggested a dynamic of integration between my colleagues. To my surprise, the proposal was accepted. For a moment, we dropped our masks and talked human to human. After the rain, the joy of seeing the rainbow.

Chapter 2

The Sheep Breakfast

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I woke up to the sound of birds with gratitude in my heart. Looking out the window, however, I came across an intriguing scene in the neighboring house: my neighbors having breakfast dressed in sheep’s clothing.

I rubbed my eyes, thinking I was delirious. But no, there they were, stacked around the table with wigs and gloves and sheep-like stuffed boots, pinching and glossy chewing the pancakes in an insane morning ritual.

I tried to think rationally about that. Was it some forgotten regional holiday? Eccentric theme anniversary? But I couldn't find explanations for those sheep fantasies so early in the day. Is that what people consider normal?

I've analyzed your glazed expressions, mechanical movements. They seemed hypnotized as they ate, as if it were a tedious obligation. No talking, no laughing, just the ritualistic sound of chewing teeth. Definitely weird.

I began to suspect that it was some secret pagan cult. clandestine gatherings of sheep-worshippers disguised as common family. How many houses would be fronts for insane rituals like this?

I decided to investigate. I took my binoculars and started snooping through the window, taking notes. They traded the sheep costumes for formal clothes and left. They continued with the same apathetic expressions. Something sinister was going on.

Without wasting time, I went down by elevator, jumped the fence, and broke into the neighboring house to get clues. I searched the trash, searched for altars, dug the yard. Nothing much, apparently. Would they be hiding their paranoia better?

Before I went back to my observation post, I saw the son leaving for school with a backpack that looked too heavy for a child. What would I be carrying? Textbooks or ritual items? I followed him sneakily to find out.

On the way, the boy stopped to feed a stray cat. He took a sachet of food out of his backpack and put it on the floor, stroking the cat. I was touched and ashamed by my suspicion. No one should be judged hastily.

At school, I saw several children holding plastic eggs. Was it some eccentric educational project? I peeked out the window and saw that they were just playing, pretending to hatch their eggs. Laugh with innocence at his imaginative pranks.

I came home and prepared lunch when I heard a commotion on the street. I leaned over the window and saw my neighbor arguing heatedly with a stranger next to a red car.

He gestured and screamed as she defended herself vehemently. A typical case of urban insanity, I thought. Probably a banal traffic crash, but neither could control his primitive emotions.

To my surprise, the disagreement was resolved peacefully after a few minutes. Mutual apologies, handshakes, contact exchanges for repair. A rare display of civility, against my expectations.

In the afternoon, a whirlwind of children broke into the neighboring house, laughing and screaming. Neighbors' son's birthday party, I get it. I saw cake, candy, silly pranks, silly gifts. Why spend so much on ephemeral futility?

At the height of the uproar, the lights went