Common knowledge of psychology is the bane of my existence. I mean it’s not really but still, I get frustrated, with how every human today can scratch the surface of whatever they feel may or may not be someone’s problem. And it’s not just that, alone in of itself but that it’s done with an air of authority in the absence of authority. Because the words are so powerful. I mean Bane, existence, those are strong words sure, but hyperbole is fun. Being labeled a psychopath however, by a complete stranger, is not as fun. Oh wait, my mistake, that’s my paranoia talking. I must just be reflecting, errr, projecting, errr, deflecting, err I have vagina envy, or something. Freud once said, “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar,” said George Carlin, before shortly adding “Sometimes it’s a big brown dick.” I’m not sure what my point is. I had a professor in college, I don’t remember her name, but she said Freud is like pretty much cold coffee and yesterday’s paper–my wording, not her’s. I don’t remember her words verbatim. Her point was, though, that for as huge a figure as Freud was and remains, his greatest strength was his imagination. She taught anthropology, this woman and when she’d said this she was rambling, kind of like what I’m doing right now. The difference between her and I though is I have no authority. In anything. So, no one is taking notes.
Published by Luke Meyer
Author, blogger, painter, poet, schizophrenic, vitamin salesman. There's a shadow person living in my head is something I believe. Fiction. Digital art. Smalltime jobs. I do all these things. Bad biology is a lie. God is a robot.