I’ve spent fifteen minutes each hour for the last few hours rearranging clutter. Jesus on a jumping jack that’s a poorly crafted sentence. I’ve been trying to clean shit up in small bursts, and, whereas I’ve filled a few garbage bags, I’ve moved clutter to different areas of my cell more than I have moved things out and away. So, yeah, there’s less candy wrappers and used Kleenex around but it doesn’t look any cleaner. Only a chunk of that is for comic effect; I usually toss a Kleenex when I’m done with it, and only candy wrappers that fall from their perch to places unknown were … shit, I can not construct a sentence to save my life.
My life isn’t actually being threatened in regards to the relative cleanliness nor sentence construction of … shit. Again. Fuck me. The place still looks trashed and my brow is damp.
I’m seeing the shrink thing tomorrow. I think he’s a social worker of some kind. Yesterday I tried working up some anxiety about I just couldn’t muster any. It dawned on me a few minutes ago as I was sitting on the can hiding from my clutter (no, that’s not for comic effect, crazy sounding, but not trying to sound funny. Ok, I didn’t really think the clutter needed me to come up with an excuse, but I needed one.) I started thinking about the very obvious question “What brings you here Mr. Drools?”
Within the first thirty seconds I got all the silly out of my system, thirty more seconds and the blame projection was over and done with and I was left with an interesting thought; I was referred to this guy because he was available and took my insurance. Whereas that might work for a podiatrist (feet is feet, I mean, as far as I know there aren’t sub categories of podiatrist speciality, though, perhaps some are surgeons and others … do other foot things) I’m thinking for talk therapy that’s, at the very least, a half-assed cynical approach to referral. That and dude was second choice to a place with twenty staffers all with a different field of focus. The first place didn’t take my insurance.
Again, no anxiety, due, in a very large part, to this being voluntary and I’m equally willing and able to say no as I am yes. I wasn’t looking for a test of trust, I think that’s an ugly game to play and, honestly, it would take someone very very adept quite a long time to do any damage to my head, ego, sense of self and all that shit. But, if I ask the question (why do you suppose we were matched) I can honestly say there is a wrong answer. Several of them. In fact unless it’s very well thought out I think any answer other than I don’t know, maybe because I take your insurance (?) is probably the wrong answer.
I look at talk therapy like Pascals wager, that is … oh, shit, no, that’s it.
GF really has amazing timing. I’m about to be sarcastic, but it’s also true in the awe inspiring way. For the purpose of this entry though — I don’t think I’ve written more than fifty percent of this years entries without getting a phone call from her in the middle. I wouldn’t have a problem with saying “Hon, I’m right in the middle of something can I get back to you?” except this, what I’m writing now, is hardly “something” and I would rather talk to her. I mean this isn’t some gem coaxed from a deep visceral well of inspiration. This is alpha-numeric doodling. But if I had a train of thought it would have been derailed.
I guess I don’t have a problem with not answering the phone either, but, again, I’d rather talk to her than write a hypothetical semi-rant/semi-bored doo-hickey about a theoretical discussion with a pseudo-shrink that I can’t even manage to work up a drop of anxiety over.
Among her many many virtues she is an excellent audience. So just listening to her giggle is much better for me than writing an entry for the sake of keeping an entry streak going. In theory one writes in a journal daily for a limited number of reasons, each one has varying degrees of; to improve my writing through repetition/practice/whatever the kids are calling it these days.
This entry disproves that notion. This is worse than yesterday. I don’t mean content wise, though perhaps that too I haven’t really been paying attention to content, I mean the very basics of taking a noun or two, a pronoun, stated or implied, a dash of adverb, adjective, expletive and at least one verb, throwing in some punctuation in places where punctuation might go and rinse and repeat.
You don’t really need to rinse and repeat with shampoo or journal entries — wait, yes, you should probably rinse, you don’t need to repeat, it doesn’t make your hair cleaner or you scalp … whatever you want to do with your scalp was accomplished on the first pass. Repeating is like Valentine’s day or Easter, it’s just an excuse for greeting card companies to fuck bunny rabbits. Hmmmm, I might have mixed cliché rants with a joke. I like the joke.
I’ve made the mistake more than once … shit. I’ve assumed everyone knew a joke and so I’ve only left the punchline hanging, it’s a mistake. So, although I’m sure you all know this one and I feel a little silly giving it a build-up I’ll tell it anyhow.
Why does the Easter Bunny hide eggs?
So that no one finds out he’s been fucking chickens.
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