Saturday 16 June 2012
Thom wants to visit Auschwitz.
It is a measure of his cunning that he even half pulled a Holocaust project from his school bag. In fact, Thom wants to go to Poland to see the European football. In fact, I have some rather intense business with Axel in Hamburg so maybe Auschwitz will serve as a ruse for the both of us.Of course, his mother will agree to this. Delegating her conscience is something I have observed her doing since she hooked up with Serena. Ah, yes. How could I, a mere therapist, have not known of my ex wife's lesbianism? Yes, me, who used to prowl past her house at 4 am to check out for any male friends. Have I ever been so blind? Frankly, I'd rather talk about Auschwitz. Yes, she will agree to this. She has batted nary an eyelid over our trips in search of the finest international erotica. In fact, she would agree to a fortnight in Afghanistan, or a weekend break in Syria, anything at all. What she will not accept, however,is for my son to stay with me in my house, half a mile down the road. What is it with the lesbian imagination? Is that a delegation too close to home?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Therapist, good to see you returned to us after too long an absence, and parting the unseen wavelengths with your delicate prism. Already the intrigues are afoot with the promise of horror tourism, appointments with Axel that Philbyesque hoarder or transgressions and the prospect of a maiesophilic fantasy explored, though who would wish to puncture such a long-cherished desire with gratification (as to professional boundaries of course, chicken-wire for chickens, I say!)
And what are we to make of X's fear of territories? Does it connote something deeper, this chariness of your homestead, or is there a scientific term for the phobia of domains, something to reassure us that it does indeed exist? And a lesbian no less - truly she was an undiscovered country (as I hear it), but sadly no America of yours.
What are we to make of it all...X a lesbian and R with child. Alas, you are ensnared in a labyrinth of hormones, a cornucopia of popping estrogen.
And who would have it any different?
And no America of mine...Christ, I feel a ballad coming on. Indeed, she is more like one of those rogue African states, forever changing their name. But no America...Of mine.
Your summation is acute, many thanks. I am mired in a cornucopia of estrogen, but who wants tetosterone? It's such a predictable hormone- and it does nothing for one's prose.
I hope to hear from you again! These are lonely corridors.
Post a Comment