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Sep. 15th, 2004 09:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phosfateWent to pshrink yesterday for annual GIVE ME DRUGS FUCKER! tweaking. Not a good day to go, as a hot wind was blowing at a steady 75 mph, the sort of thing Raymond Chandler describes in...some Raymond Chandler novel. You know. Burnt sienna. Santa Anita. Except not in California, so it doesn't get a name except for "That goddamn fucking wind already."
While we were chatting, I suddenly felt overwhelming and inexplicable desire to biff him about the head and shoulders with his plastic half-brain (that's not an insult -- he has a plastic half-brain on his credenza, next to the foot-high gozinta doll). Transference. Or he's really got to do something about that god-awful depressing decor.
Complained of chronic sleepiness and dopey can't find words to make sentence thing. He suggested cutting the dose by a quarter. This is my first day at 75% power, and yee argle barg woof zing.
Special note to ahli: The owls are still there.
So I get home and Mom says, "Did he ask you anything?"
"It was weird," I said. "He asked how I felt about my mother, and everything went all grey and there's this big empty space in my memory. Next thing I know I'm on the floor of his office, twitching, and he's bathing my forehead with a cool cloth and saying, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, God I'm sorry, I'll never mention it again.'"
She looked at me for a second, and then hit me on the head with the TV page.
While we were chatting, I suddenly felt overwhelming and inexplicable desire to biff him about the head and shoulders with his plastic half-brain (that's not an insult -- he has a plastic half-brain on his credenza, next to the foot-high gozinta doll). Transference. Or he's really got to do something about that god-awful depressing decor.
Complained of chronic sleepiness and dopey can't find words to make sentence thing. He suggested cutting the dose by a quarter. This is my first day at 75% power, and yee argle barg woof zing.
Special note to ahli: The owls are still there.
So I get home and Mom says, "Did he ask you anything?"
"It was weird," I said. "He asked how I felt about my mother, and everything went all grey and there's this big empty space in my memory. Next thing I know I'm on the floor of his office, twitching, and he's bathing my forehead with a cool cloth and saying, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, God I'm sorry, I'll never mention it again.'"
She looked at me for a second, and then hit me on the head with the TV page.