In Session (7) Hunger
Hunger is as dependable as the Postal Service
It was hard to imagine why this proper Englishman was worried about getting fat, so my snap diagnosis was body image issues. He was looking in the mirror and seeing a fat man, even though, in reality, he was lean, and his handshake confirmed he had muscles like steel cable. You just never know about people.
I used to entertain women by having them touch a random point on my body, and I’d make the muscle jump right where they touched. It wasn’t instantaneous. I had to be in a body trance, imagine the point, and then move that imagined point over the physical location. I would focus all my attention into the merger. It’s all about attention. He was paying attention to the red leather chairs with an eye for their value as collectibles but sat in the yellow one. I mentioned that he’s English.
When he settled into the yellow chair the contrast with his black suit made him look like an exotic bird.
“I am intrigued,” he said, crossing his long legs and pressing his fingers together as if in prayer. “I don’t know any psychiatrists, personally, but I assume you begin by getting a license to practice medicine?”
