Shit I tell my Therapist: Berlin & The American Nuclear Family

Yeah Doc,

By the way it’s so cool to call you “Doc” It brings me back to watch looney tunes and Bugs Bunny, I just need a carrot

Yeah the American Nuclear family and how it was depicted on TV reminded me of the post WW2 Berlin.

epic silence….. should I continue ? …. uhm ok ?

yeah if you look at it on TV. Dad had a chair and a section of the living room was dad’s area and if Dad was lucky he had a special room a private study. The Dog brings him his slippers or newspaper and then retreats to the ~~fucking~~ shadows to die a slow and meaningless death even for an animal. The children had a place to play and they also had rooms.

They lived in a neighborhood where all the houses sort of looked the same.

Sounds like a militarized zone where every expense is made to produce the illusion of semblance of normalcy to drown out the suicides and the screams from domestic violence, and the beating of prisoners both innocent and non.

I kind of feel if the American dream was that great there would be no mid life crisis here.

I think it’s sort of important. A lot of the social ills we have a the current moment I believe are a magnifications of family crisis we have.

I feel kind of loss in American society really.

Why ?

Well for starters I dont hate black people, latinos and immigrants ? <chuckles> Sorry I forgot I should make those kind of comments

Yeah I am free to say whatever comes to mind, but I am talking to two people at once…. there is the objective role the therapist aka Doc, and there is the person. With the therapist there is a power dynamic there

I’m paying you money I owe you, because of that I have to really listen to what you say more, because each word costs me a few dollars…. that’s fine and all but I don’t know the person makes it hard to trust that you or anyone else perhaps will see that I am joking.

There is the person I can create from how you sit, how you make eye contact how you move your eyebrows when you talk or I say something weird and other things I can deduce but that’s no fun, everyone is in the process of creating themselves and there predecessors some people do a better jobs than others, some though unfortunately do not and there is nothing left of them whoever that was when they die like in this Bukowski poem I cannot fully remember. I like to tell myself that why they buried Avicenna and Averroes with all their book if memory serves me correctly, they had succeeded in construct such a vast personage they couldn’t really be buried or extirpated ……………….

———- Uhm right—————- [silence]

Supplemental Info

ashes

by Charles Bukowski

I got his ashes, she said, and I took them
out to sea and I scattered his ashes and
they didn’t even look like ashes
and
the urn was weighted with
green and blue pebbles …

he didn’t leave you any of his
millions?

nothing, she said.

after having to eat all those breakfasts
and lunches and dinners with him? after
listening to all his bullshit?

he was a brilliant man.

you know what I mean.

anyhow, I got the ashes. and you fucked
my sisters.

I never fucked your sisters.

yes, you did.

I fucked one of them.

which one?

the lesbian, I said, she bought me dinner and drinks,
I had very little choice.

I’m going, she said.

don’t forget your bottle.

she went in and got it.

there’s so little to you, she said, that when you die and
they burn you they’ll have to add almost all green and
blue pebbles.

all right, I said.

I’ll see you in 6 months! she screamed and slammed the door.

well, I thought, I guess in order to get rid of her I’ll have
to fuck her other sister. I walked into the bedroom and started
looking for phone numbers. all I remembered was that she
lived in San Mateo and had a very good
job.