The rising sun was big and orange, divided horizontally into a brighter upper half and a darker lower half that shrank and melted into the brighter upper half as it rose over the hills until, finally, you couldn’t look at it straight-on anymore.
Four magpies flew across the bridge, and perched briefly on a streetlight before flying on. The streetlight flickered off as if the magpies had stolen its light.
At breakfast he said, that was the best five euro I ever spent. That fortune teller reminding me that I have a happy life did me more good than a month of therapy.
How would you know, she said, you’ve never had therapy.
No idea why she’s trying to get me to a therapist. I like my nightmares, insomnia and being depressed now and then. Part of me fears that if that suffering were to end, something really nasty would happen. I have a happy life, I don’t want to jinx it.
I have a happy life. I’m a happy guy.
They say, though, as long as you fear you’re crazy, you’re not crazy. So if you think you don’t need therapy, maybe you do.
Magpies were a Leitmotif in Parcival. The version I read, anyway.
I’m a big Parcival fan. Der reine Tor. The pure fool. Listen, I don’t recommend being a fool, not to anyone. The word does have a negative connotation, after all.
Still: maybe being a fool is not the same thing as being stupid. It’s just not being wise, or conventionally wise.
Maybe it’s stepping outside this big social construct and looking at things honestly. Court jesters were fools, after all. Their job was telling the truth, after all. Nothing funnier than the truth.
After all.
Man, I could use a fu*king cigarette.
It is foolish to look behind the curtain, at the man behind the curtain. It is foolish to look behind the mirror. It is foolish to look at things from the outside. It is foolish to trade your only cow to a stranger for magic beans. OTOH: gold! A giant woman (in one version)! Golden eggs! Singing harp!
It is foolish to make eye contact with someone from beyond the pale. OTOH: I don’t care about money. I am happy.
I am happy.
(And if I had a smoke, I’d be really f*cking happy.)
“(And if I had a smoke, I’d be really f*cking happy.)”
no…, you’d be SMOKING.
must. not. cave.
thinkaboutsex.
smoking stinks and smoking is unhealthy and smoking makes you look cool.
when i am cool enough to get by on my own, without my magic sticks of fire to prop me up, i will consider joining you on that side of the fence.
in the meantime, i’ll just say that if you are happy, it’s probably a damn good time to quit.
it also makes your gums recede, and when you’re old you sit around with an oxygen tube up your nose solving crossword puzzles while waiting for your dialysis treatment to finish.
There’s also this:
http://whiskeyriver.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_whiskeyriver_archive.html#108057903862849428
I’m sure therapy is a lot of fun. If it were cheaper, I’d sign right up, just so I could sit around talking about myself to someone interesting for an hour a week. I also enjoyed getting a massage once a week, back when I was doing that.
We could all use therapy, that makes sense. But I also think that a lot of people who aren’t crazy call themselves “crazy”, you know? “I’m so crazy,” or “my crazy life” and this sort of devalues it for people who are genuinely crazy, and for those who are sort of crazy and fighting it.
So, for the record, I am not crazy. I do not hear voices. I never contemplate slaughtering my family in their beds. Co-workers are also fairly safe. I am, however, quite blocked and inhibited in a lot of ways, or some ways; OTOH I do not like this emphasis on functioning well that a lot of therapy, or therapy customers, seems to have…