April Fool.

I was feeling mellow and mildly humourous following a majesterial shit to an early, choral Stockhausen and yet even this equilibrium of the soul failed me as I lazily checked my electronic messages. One such was from a man called Buckminster. He was writing to seek my assistance in resolving the issues he had with his insane father. Oh, to be so certain. I deleted him and went to butter my toast. Only later did Thom call. Of course, I have my supervision with Buckley this morning and, as a good Freudian, he would insist on taking this joke very seriously. Dear Buckley, of course children think their parents insane. More pertinently, dearest Buckley, why are you so scared of them? He is, indeed, a symptom of a rather effete, somewhat feeble generation of men. Why in god's name do I keep him on? I'll give him notice today. Yes, it'll be fun. Freudian's are so crap at endings, it'll be marvellous fun.