Thursday, November 18, 2004
first, do no harm. or: train-sobber, know thyself.
most of my knowledge of how people become doctors has been gleaned from ten years of watching ER. maybe not the most realistic picture. that said, if you are an ASSHOLE, maybe psychiatry is not your field. i saw this doctor fuckworth this morning, and he made me feel ten times worse than i did when i went in (at which point i already had no mascara on because of a surprise bout of train tears. eye makeup is such folly). his office was done in this very eighties sort of black and grey, and he radiated a smug tough-love like an offensive body odour. things he said to me include:
how are you feeling?
so what kind of actor are you?
well, that's the first positive thing i've heard out of you.
do you have an agent?
you should get one.
so who are you so mad at?
and his very most therapeutic offering:
"you need to your career in gear."
to which i said: pardon?
and he said: you really need to get an agent. and let me tell you, it's all about networking. you gotta have your antennae up all the time. you have to meet a lot of people. you really have to get it togther.
and i paused, and said: i'll . . . try to do that. more. than i already am.
which, frankly, is a lot. and worse than any one thing he said was this self-satisfied air about him, and how he'd ask me questions and then cut me off when i answered them as if he were delighted in catching me in a lie or an evasion or a self-delusion, when i was honestly trying to be really honest--which, and ask anyone, is something i'm not that bad at, even when telling the bare truth makes me look bad.
and then the pharmacy couldn't fill my prescription because they need seventeen kinds of preauthorization (the doctor has to call them and tell them it's "medically necessary"--as opposed to the psychotropic drugs psychiatrists hand out FOR FUN) and i don't think it's going to work anyway because i was on these pills before and they didn't do much of jack, and i waited and waited at the duane reed and then called the monkey, who slept two more hours than i did and didn't get talked down to by an assface physician and still got an slot for an audition i had really wanted to do this morning but couldn't because i had to get lectured by the show business doctor in his fucking silver cheetah black leather chair office.
maybe my envy of the monkey is problematic and worth examining, but that doesn't mean doctor fuckworth isn't a total jerkface.
how are you feeling?
so what kind of actor are you?
well, that's the first positive thing i've heard out of you.
do you have an agent?
you should get one.
so who are you so mad at?
and his very most therapeutic offering:
"you need to your career in gear."
to which i said: pardon?
and he said: you really need to get an agent. and let me tell you, it's all about networking. you gotta have your antennae up all the time. you have to meet a lot of people. you really have to get it togther.
and i paused, and said: i'll . . . try to do that. more. than i already am.
which, frankly, is a lot. and worse than any one thing he said was this self-satisfied air about him, and how he'd ask me questions and then cut me off when i answered them as if he were delighted in catching me in a lie or an evasion or a self-delusion, when i was honestly trying to be really honest--which, and ask anyone, is something i'm not that bad at, even when telling the bare truth makes me look bad.
and then the pharmacy couldn't fill my prescription because they need seventeen kinds of preauthorization (the doctor has to call them and tell them it's "medically necessary"--as opposed to the psychotropic drugs psychiatrists hand out FOR FUN) and i don't think it's going to work anyway because i was on these pills before and they didn't do much of jack, and i waited and waited at the duane reed and then called the monkey, who slept two more hours than i did and didn't get talked down to by an assface physician and still got an slot for an audition i had really wanted to do this morning but couldn't because i had to get lectured by the show business doctor in his fucking silver cheetah black leather chair office.
maybe my envy of the monkey is problematic and worth examining, but that doesn't mean doctor fuckworth isn't a total jerkface.
