Napoleon

I was all ready to leave my place this morning for my weekly appointment with Peter, and as I was leaving he called me. He had leprosy or something, the whole side of his face had blown up. "But what about me, Pete? Who's going to address my needs?", I didn't say. Actually, I was quite pleased, I think I'm running out of problems and I think he knows it. Much as I love having someone listen to me for 50 minutes even I can recognise that it doesn't have the burning-wagon-rolling-towards-the-cliff-edge urgency it had mid last year.

So I went downstairs to the lesbian cafe to get a coffee, and the charming young women there mentioned how unusual it was for me not to be in a frantic rush. "I was supposed to go see my shrink, but he cancelled", I told them, and it seemed to stop them in their tracks. "I hear voices, and I'm often convinced I'm really Napoleon, or Sammy Davis Jr", I most certainly did not say, although judging by their reaction I might as well have. I went upstairs to play piano for a while after that. Nice coffee though.