Preview
A short excerpt:
THERAPIST: So, what kind of progress do you feel you've made during your time here?
MARCEL: I've finally learned that you can never trust other human beings.
T: Go on...
M: Well, it was like with my son, right? I was always visiting him with smiles and toys so that he'd grow up knowing I loved him even though I lived in another city, even though she was probably poisoning him against me at home. But now I know that real love is measured by actions, not empty sentimentalism. And by that token, I didn't love my son very much.
T: Are you sure of that?
M: I wasn't at first. It caused me a lot of sleepless nights. You know, I'd stare at the ceiling and cry silently. I'd ask God for help in strainghtening out my own shit, you know what I mean?
T: Yes. And did God answer?
M: No. It was just a ceiling.
T: Of course. So how do you feel about your son now?
M: I don't. It's all deadened.
T: Go on...
M: There's nothing to elaborate. It was an illusion. What was it called? The "self-serving bias"? You know, I want to play the part. I want to be... I don't know... loved? Rich? There's a tingly feeling when you're accepted, but all the means of gaining acceptance are horseshit.
T: So, if you can't trust anybody, why are you confiding all this to me?
M: I'm just going through the motions. I know you have a lot of questions on that paper of yours, so I'll play along so I can get out and walk down the street. All that is just going through the motions. Maybe I'll buy myself a nice halogen light for my apartment. Then later I'll go off and get drunk. That'd be nice. You know, occassionally, I'll have to attend a birthday party or a wedding or some shit like that. At least there's more stuff to keep my brain busy out there, you know? I'll do a rosary. I'll watch a comedy. I'll fuck a hooker. It's all putty.
T: Putty?
M: Um... whatever. Anyway: can't trust, don't try.
T: We never said not to try.
M: I'll save myself the effort. So, do I get a discharge, or what?
Consider: "to not talk about science seems to me perverse. When you're in love, you want to tell the world!"
THERAPIST: So, what kind of progress do you feel you've made during your time here?
MARCEL: I've finally learned that you can never trust other human beings.
T: Go on...
M: Well, it was like with my son, right? I was always visiting him with smiles and toys so that he'd grow up knowing I loved him even though I lived in another city, even though she was probably poisoning him against me at home. But now I know that real love is measured by actions, not empty sentimentalism. And by that token, I didn't love my son very much.
T: Are you sure of that?
M: I wasn't at first. It caused me a lot of sleepless nights. You know, I'd stare at the ceiling and cry silently. I'd ask God for help in strainghtening out my own shit, you know what I mean?
T: Yes. And did God answer?
M: No. It was just a ceiling.
T: Of course. So how do you feel about your son now?
M: I don't. It's all deadened.
T: Go on...
M: There's nothing to elaborate. It was an illusion. What was it called? The "self-serving bias"? You know, I want to play the part. I want to be... I don't know... loved? Rich? There's a tingly feeling when you're accepted, but all the means of gaining acceptance are horseshit.
T: So, if you can't trust anybody, why are you confiding all this to me?
M: I'm just going through the motions. I know you have a lot of questions on that paper of yours, so I'll play along so I can get out and walk down the street. All that is just going through the motions. Maybe I'll buy myself a nice halogen light for my apartment. Then later I'll go off and get drunk. That'd be nice. You know, occassionally, I'll have to attend a birthday party or a wedding or some shit like that. At least there's more stuff to keep my brain busy out there, you know? I'll do a rosary. I'll watch a comedy. I'll fuck a hooker. It's all putty.
T: Putty?
M: Um... whatever. Anyway: can't trust, don't try.
T: We never said not to try.
M: I'll save myself the effort. So, do I get a discharge, or what?
Consider: "to not talk about science seems to me perverse. When you're in love, you want to tell the world!"
posted by A. D. at 5:42 PM
2 Comments:
'Twas hilarious, and the article about the Sokal hoax was too! Richard Dawkins is the dude that wrote the Selfish Gene, right?
'tis so.
Honestly, who'd think to equate the male erectile organ to the square root of minus one? Unless he knew that all his students were math-phobic and would just take his word for it...
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