The Anti-Therapist. Keaton Albertson. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Keaton Albertson
Издательство: Ingram
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Жанр произведения: Биографии и Мемуары
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781619331242
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them… I just masturbate. And that’s not bad. Everyone masturbates…

      KEATON: Wait a minute. You’ve fantasized about stranger things than your brother having intercourse with your mother? Like what exactly?

      FAIRY: Pokemon characters… animals getting it on… dragons… aliens…

      KEATON: Aliens?

       FAIRY: I guess they’re aliens. They’re kind of half kangaroo, half alien.

      KEATON: [confused look creeps across face] You have masturbatory fantasies about alien-kangaroo sex?

       FAIRY: Yeah.

      KEATON: And Pokemon cartoon critters?

       FAIRY: Yep

      KEATON: Okay. But this goes along with my original point. Out of all of the potential things that you could think about, fantasize over, and masturbate to, you choose to imagine scenarios that you think are wrong in addition to things that are impossible. Unrealistic things. Why?

      FAIRY: I don’t know. It’s like these pictures just get into my head and I can’t get them out. I can be reading a book or something, trying to keep my mind off stuff, and I’ll read a certain line or something and they’ll just pop up. I try not to think about these things but they don’t go away. And I just wind up masturbating to them even though I don’t want to.

      KEATON: We’ve talked about this before. These disturbing fantasies will not go away so long as you continue to masturbate to them. Each time you do that, you are making the cognitive-behavior link stronger. You must give the fantasies time to fade away. You can also look at it in terms of orgasm being the ultimate behavioral goal here. All the fantasies do is serve to get you aroused so that you can eventually reach climax.

       FAIRY: Yeah… I was going to tell you about that too. I’ve been doing that a lot more lately.

      KEATON: Doing what? Masturbating?

       FAIRY: Yeah—but not as much as when I started treatment though.

      KEATON: Have you been using objects again?

       FAIRY: I’ve started using different things.

      KEATON: Like what?

       FAIRY: Like my socks. …And I fucked a sandal.

      KEATON: [furrows brow] How do you fuck a sandal?

       FAIRY:[makes jerking movements with hands against crotch] You know, just slam into the sandal back and forth while I’m holding it!

      KEATON: [stares blankly forward]

       FAIRY: What? I know, it’s warped but, hey, I ran out of shampoo. I fucked a sandal.

      KEATON: And this was pleasurable to you?

       FAIRY: Well, yeah, but it’s not like I have a sandal craving now or anything. I don’t go around thinking, “Mmmmm, give me that Jesus shoe!” [pants like a dog]

      KEATON: That’s good. Okay, so other than the sandal escapade, have you been using any other objects?

       FAIRY: I’m not sure.

      KEATON: I don’t see how there could be any confusion involved. Either you are masturbating with your hand, which is part of your body, or not. If it’s not part of your body then it’s an object.

       FAIRY: Well… what if it came out of my body?

      KEATON: You mean semen or urine? We’ve talked about that before. You’ve been using your own bodily fluids for lubrication for quite some time.

       FAIRY: Okay. But what if it’s not a bodily fluid?

      KEATON: What are you talking about exactly? Be clear.

       FAIRY: This is just gross. I feel like such a freak.

      KEATON: You’re here for treatment. There are no value judgments here. Although your self-perception should definitely be explored later. What are you masturbating with now, other than your socks and the helpless sandal?

       FAIRY: My own shit.

      KEATON: [pauses] Your own shit.

       FAIRY: Yeah. See! I knew you would think it was gross.

      KEATON: It’s not something that I haven’t heard before. It just seems odd to me that you would consider your feces as an object.

       FAIRY: Well, it is! At least how I use it, it is.

      KEATON: How do you use it then?

       FAIRY: I stick my turds up my ass.

      KEATON: Say again. You what?

       FAIRY:[pantomimes movement while speaking] I reach down into the toilet, grab my turd, and shove it back up my ass like this.

      KEATON: [raises eyebrow and clinches mouth in disgust]

       FAIRY: So wouldn’t that be an object?

      KEATON: Sure. [clears throat] So, uh, how many times have you done this?

       FAIRY: I just tried it a couple times. It didn’t work out too well.

      KEATON: Why is that?

       FAIRY: Because the poo was all squishy. It fell apart. It wouldn’t go back up my ass the same way it came out.

      KEATON: [glances at watch] Okay. That is quite enough for today. We’ll resume discussion for next session. But in the meantime I want you to put forth some effort in avoiding masturbation, any form of masturbation, to your inappropriate sexual fantasies. Alright? And keep the journal going. I want these fantasies documented.

       FAIRY: If you say so. So I’ll see you next week then? [extends hand for a shake]

      KEATON: [looks down at patient’s hand, moves aside, and opens office door instead] Yes. Same time next week. The secretary will have your appointment card.

       FAIRY: [withdraws hand] Alright. Have a good day then. I’ll talk to you later.

      KEATON: Yeah. You too. See you next week. [reaches for bottle of hand sanitizer]

      ~*~*~*~*~*~

      I woke up to the sounds of the early morning news emanating from a weathered television set at daybreak. Fleas had already taken a shower and was getting ready for the upcoming workshops. He had turned the television on inside our shared hotel room, opened the window blinds, and allowed the early morning sun to bake through my ruffled bedspread. We had traveled to Kansas City the night before by van, along with several other of my colleagues. Although Fleas had clearly recovered from the scenically abhorrent journey from our home, I was more content with lying in the hotel bed for a few more hours, despite the questionable integrity of the sheets wrapped around my body. After several moments of yanking the bedspread over my head to block out the sun’s rays and cursing at Fleas for getting up so early, I finally decided to rise.

      After much self-prodding, I finally gathered up my toiletries and a fresh set of clothes and hobbled into the bathroom for a quick shower. I looked around the sink area for a clear place to set down my garments and shaving bag. Not finding sufficient room on the vanity to arrange my things, I turned toward the commode. It was there that I saw a meaty turd staring back at me, floating adrift on the