The Line, the Itch and the Rabbit Hole
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The Line, the Itch and the Rabbit Hole is the memoir of David Jester: a child with Tourette’s Syndrome, a young teenager with depression and an adolescent addicted to drugs and alcohol.
A humorous autobiography charting 11 difficult years, beginning with his first tic aged 7 and spanning an adolescence of addiction, illness and self destruction. A dark and funny memoir that chronicles a wide range of difficult experiences including Tourette's Syndrome, Borderline Personality Disorder, Dystonia, drugs (dealing and using) suicide attempts and a stay in a psychiatric hospital.
close, give me credit. ‘--Although that’s where I was heading before you interrupted me.’ Oh. That can’t be good. After one last baffled stare he turned to his notes to write a few things down. I tried to strain my neck to peek at what he was writing but it was all upside down scribbles from my position. He certainly writes like a doctor. ‘Do you want me to help you David?’ this time he spoke without looking up. ‘Sure.’ Why not. It can’t hurt to try. ‘Because I get the
I was shocked, my jaw dropped open. Sam was giggling. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I demanded to know. ‘They deserved it,’ he said, still laughing. ‘You don’t even know them!’ He shrugged and continued to search through MP3s as if nothing had happened. I felt my blood begin to boil. The anger inside me was increasing. Tilt head right. Left. Look ahead. Finish with a small grunt. Again. More. Right. Left. Right. Left. Grunt. Sam turned around to
this Jester?’ the officer accused. ‘Do with what? You don’t even know what the fuck’s going on,’ I spat; offended that she would single me out. ‘He was talking bullshit,’ I thrust my finger at the manager. ‘He was involved,’ the manager said, nodding ‘I’m sure of it. Both of them. See,’ he pointed to the sandwich I had discarded on the floor, now in sight. ‘Well, there you go,’ I said calmly. I’m going to be arrested for stealing a fucking sandwich. After another visit to the
politely to us. He wore a striped shirt, tucked into dark pants, and he cradled a large backpack. He parked the bike by the entrance and wandered inside. I could sense the words on my father’s lips before they came, ‘Who’s he? He looks like he’s just got out of school,’ he said, grinning. ‘CPN,’ I nodded. ‘And yeah, he does.’ I shared in his laugh as I finished my cigarette. ‘Come on,’ I threw the butt to the floor. ‘That's everyone, Doctor Foster is inside.’ The meeting room was just
orderly pushing an empty wheelchair. ‘How are you today?’ ‘I’m good, thanks,’ I put the book down and waited with my arms over my chest. She walked around to the side of the bed and looked down at me, ‘Do you want to turn over and lie on your side?’ Fuck. ‘Not this again,’ I pleaded, ‘I thought we’d already established--’ ‘Don’t worry,’ she interjected, laughing softly, clearly she found my probing ordeal humorous, although to be fair everyone else had as well, my brother had