I had this poignant dream about being in a jungle-based boarding school where we had to sit and sweat through math classes and this must have been a metaphysical result of my self-enforced practice of sleeping with the windows shut in summer in spite of the heat, the sound of the garbage trucks at night is very horrifying to me.
Woke up and instantly thought of my first psychoanalysis session, wherein I casually talked allot, initially and within the first 8 or so minutes had diagnosed myself as a high-achieving anorexic ex-model with a penchant for Passive Aggression and a loathing for Confrontation. He kept saying You’re Calling Yourself A Passive Aggressive, How Interesting, and writing something down all furious on his pad. He was this young analyst with huge eyes and he was trying to conceal his thrill at discovering such a poster child was all I could figure by this weird half-smile he was semi-suppressing.
It’s so funny to me now, that I thought it would be a good idea to go to a place like that and say things to a person like that. He told me to keep a food journal.
p.s. Beautiful Women are Everywhere I Look