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moby grape, a song

Posted by cockeyed on August 3, 2005, at 21:20:36

Yeah, okay, '60's b.s. Moby Grape sang a song:
I'm stuck with a burr up the...well, you know.
I can't shake extreme anger and rage toward a pdoc who is a member of my pdoc's group who treated me like a piece of offal.
I've become obsessed with confronting him over an incident which occurred in January. And I would prefer to do so sanely...BFD...the guy is in it for the money. Sorry, but I'm not rational when it comes to him.
I worry that I'll run into him by accident in
my pdocs office. I'll probably just avoid any b.s. The problem is that the b.s. keeps occupying my mind. My doc laffed when I told him about my encounter. And I probably should not be so obsessed, but I ain't nuts for nothing.
I think I'll write a creative essay for my T who wants me to write a letter to my old man who's been dead for forty plus years.
Think I'll write this one for Dr. K, for whom I've taken a not so irrational dislike.
However dislike, does not mean hatred...and I've focused my hates on him.

So what the hell do I do. I wrote him a quite civil letter, excoriating him for his arrogance and insensitivity. I would prefer to
use street American and get in his face, but do not wish to cause a scene. i.e. get busted.
So what the hell to do. Too whom does one complain. Especially when it's obvious that one is "not wrapped too tight".
Please, nutcases write letters. No matter how rational, one is still a nut. One has sought help. So kick 'em when they're down.
What truly bothers me is the state of anger I've maintained for most of this year. It does not bode well. I'm afraid that I'll act like a
jerk...hey, wait a minute, maybe I'll just say the hell with it. After all, I've become a mostly courteous driver. And it makes me feel better. Trouble is, deep down, I don't wanna feel better. I wanna get off on anger. Oh for a magic pill. Too old for boxing, maybe I should gt involved in local politics.
But this issue with the g.d. bastard is rotting me inside. And I realize it's me, not him, who's the problem. Cockeyed.




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