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“I had a sinkful of dishes, and I’d put them out on the counter on a towel like I do when I’m getting ready to wash them … and I did that three days ago,” I said, laughing afterward. “You did what now?” “I did it three days ago. I was going to wash dishes, … Continue reading
“The WF thing,” I said, sounding disgusted, “that’s a fucking joke.” “What happened there?” “So we’ve been sending messages back and forth for months, right, and toward the end they were getting long and we were basically trading anecdotes, stories about our lives. It was pretty harmless, but she knew I liked her and I … Continue reading
“Yeah, and that’s the problem because—” “Whether they’ll respond positively or not, I don’t know. Maybe—” “—and, well, the entire idea of street photography is to catch people in a candid way.” “—hypersensitive to ‘stranger danger’ and—” “Yeah, well. Long story short: I don’t take pictures anymore. I write. And that’s pretty much the most … Continue reading
“… and this is cliché, but it’s kind of like clouds,” I said. “In what way?” “Sometimes the sky will be dark and full of them, you know, and those are the really bad times, the days when I’m in a really bad place and, and … that’s when I can’t stop thinking about it—dying. … Continue reading
In this bedroom-turned-office there was an open doorway in the far western wall, nestled in the corner—the entrance to a small walk-in closet, I guessed. The folding doors had been replaced by a canvas drape the color of Dijon mustard. It never seemed to stir, even when outside the air gathered into a breeze—always the … Continue reading
Once during our conversation I mentioned I’d been writing about our encounters. Doctor K seemed pleased by this. He wanted to know why, what purpose it served me. “I do it for a couple reasons,” I said. “One is that it’s kind of like flexing my muscles—keeping these journals helps me as a writer. I’m … Continue reading
Early on, our conversation centered around value. I told Doctor K I rarely felt valued these days. And though it was true, an honest assessment of how I felt, it wasn’t something I liked to openly admit. It always sounded bad, whiny—has, I think, a tendency to evoke groans and eye-rolling in other people. It’s … Continue reading
Another Friday session with Doctor K. It was only my third, and maybe I should have lowered my expectations of treatment, but from our talks I was beginning to get an awful feeling of being adrift, lost, without direction. There didn’t seem to be much of an agenda. Every session I entered the room and … Continue reading
Had an appointment with Doctor K again today. It didn’t start off too well, I don’t think. I sat waiting in the lobby until five after, trying hard to keep all the thoughts about how I felt I was being conned, scammed, out of my head. Then at 2:05 he strolls in, fresh off the … Continue reading
2:40 pm We’ll call him H, this doctor I met today. H for hot-shot, maybe—this doctor. I was referred to him. CF said he was the best, and anyway we had a history, H and me. Maybe that’s it—maybe the H is for history. These things are important. You have to have somebody out there … Continue reading
My Life with Lora Z 