My shrink runs our sessions in a very businesslike manner.
We meet at the same time each week. We work through the same agenda: ritual breathing to relax, recap of last visit, any new business, then on to the topics at hand.
She wears variations on the same outfits--1970's Mary Tyler Moore chic, loose slacks with matching vests, long-sleeved stretchy shirts, no prints.
Once a month we analyze where I'm at, with 3 separate measures.
And for gnarly problems, she busts out the white board.
It's a lot like work, only the project is me.
For so many of the situations I bring to her, the answers are the same, too.
You have little to no influence here.
You can choose understanding, acceptance.
I've been discovering the photos of Saul Leiter. Snapshots of mid-century NYC. I'm drawn to the layers, the filters--windows of a shop or a taxicab, rain or snow, half-glimpses of a face or a hat or a breast. He evokes such feelings of recognition and longing.
There's a shadow constantly hovering at my shoulder. For all my gallivanting into the social whirl, nevermind the positive social media...
Ever wondered what it takes to get a piece of fiction published? I'm not talking New Yorker type of prose. That's a rarefied world ...
Check out my new video, a brief reading from a story published this past spring in Opossum.
Welp, after a half-year experiment in social media, BSP has returned to its blogger roots. I hated Faceborkland, tbh. Sure, it was easier t...