Yeah, I was referred to a 'clinical psychologist'. Every Wednesday afternoon I'd be ushered into her room, shown the seat. She was a nice middle aged lady with pictures on the wall that her kids had drawn. Her advice to me was that all my thoughts were just 'clouds'....or maybe 'balloons'. Just let go......let the balloons go, the clouds pass ......'mindfulness'
I laughed. It was pathetic. I told her, you wouldn't want to close your eyes and see what I see. You just couldn't get it across to her that it wasn't all some kind of bad dream that can be forgotten......she didn't like me, I was an alcoholic failed father with a dead baby and she, like the rest of world, sides with the mother. You are treated as though its something you did.
Anyway.
Through all of this my father died and I walked in and out of lawyers offices, I signed papers and became a rich guy. This is how I wind up wandering around Tokyo at night with tired bar girls who didn't pull a punter tonight. Breakfast is coffee and anything covered in sugar. These girls don't eat food.
I do tho. I go to eat under the Shinjuku railway station. They do miso soup and pig offal on sticks. It's delicious.....washed down with Japan's dark black beer....the one they don't export.
Kampai
I