[b]Edward St. Aubyn
Old enough to remember the arrival of ‘Have a nice day’, Patrick could only look with alarm on the hyperinflation of ‘Have a great one’. Where would this Weimar of bullying cheerfulness end? ‘You have a profound and meaningful day now.’[/b]
Let’s keep that one going.
They had drifted apart, as people do when they promise to stay in touch; the ones who are going to stay in touch don’t need to promise.
Let’s not drift apart here, okay?
An editor sleeping with his writer was not as bad as a psychoanalyst sleeping with his patient, or even a professor sleeping with an undergraduate, let alone a president with an intern.
Two words: Don Trump.
Classically, the patient went into psychotherapy because she was neurotic from the suppression of her perverse desires, now she goes into psychotherapy because she is guilty about not enjoying her perverse desires.
Either way the shrinks get rich.
Something had happened and he, like almost everyone else, had got used to the habit of life. Perhaps that’s all life was: a habit that resisted the adventure of death.
How big a stretch is that? Point taken though.
If anything should take place behind closed doors, it was cruelty and betrayal.
Of course not everyone will agree.