...perhaps a moment in an unsatisfying dream but I can never remember what I dreamed anyway - don't you hate people who remember their dreams and bore you to tears with their recounting? That queer duck Sigmund Freud musta listened to a lot of them, and so too the shrinks of today. I would never tell anybody my deepest darkest thoughts. First off who cares and secondly, what business have I tormenting others with my sinister take on life?
...not to mention shrinks are a devious lot dressed in suits (to give them some sort of sartorial validation) with a leering voyeur's interest in the sleazy inner machinations of your addled head. A friend of mine once sought counseling from a shrink and when I saw her later she told me he had sat there throughout her several 55-minute-hour visits eating Twinkies and chain-smoking Camels.
Anyway at 3 thirty I wake and get up, re-heat yesterday's coffee, get the fire going, roll and smoke a bone and listen to this sweet sweet recorder I feel sure is being played by a darling litle girl who, when finished, will walk smiling out of the radio across the room and into my open arms...talk about needing a shrink, howz that?
Shrinks are like lawyers; they invented themselves, made their services necessary when actually things were going along 'okay' before they entered on the scene. Psychiatry made up all these wild tales to explain your wild tales and lawyers made up laws and wrote them up so confusingly that only they would be able to interpret them, thus insuring them a living, at your expense.
I can't imagine using a psychiatrist but I have to concede, like Albee the lawyer says, 'You can make all the jokes you want but when you get busted the first person you call is not your clergyman...'
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