avatarDaniel Lee

Summary

A lay psychiatrist recounts a session with a client known as The Undertaker, who is characterized by his tendency to name-drop and recount encounters with celebrities, revealing the psychiatrist's internal reflections on the client's personality and the nature of their interactions.

Abstract

The narrative provides an insight into the professional life of a lay psychiatrist, detailing a session with a client who previously wrestled under the name The Undertaker. The client, who bores the psychiatrist with his constant name-dropping and stories of celebrity encounters, seems to use these anecdotes as a way to assert his own significance. Despite the psychiatrist's attempts to steer the conversation towards a more therapeutic direction, The Undertaker dominates the session with tales of his interactions with figures such as David Allen Coe, Steve Goodman, Father John Misty, and others. The psychiatrist, reflecting on the client's behavior and the dynamic of their relationship, likens The Undertaker to the mythological figure Charon, guiding conversations to a metaphorical "land of the dead." The session ends with The Undertaker abruptly leaving for another engagement, leaving the psychiatrist to ponder the superficiality of their interaction.

Opinions

  • The psychiatrist finds The Undertaker's social behavior, particularly his name-dropping, to be tiresome and superficial.
  • The psychiatrist perceives The Undertaker's ego as inflated, comparing him to a mythological figure, Charon, who transports souls to the underworld, suggesting that The Undertaker's conversations lead to unproductive, dead-end discussions.
  • The Undertaker seems to derive a sense of importance from his associations with celebrities, as indicated by his detailed accounts of these encounters.
  • The psychiatrist is somewhat dismissive of The Undertaker's anecdotes, viewing them as a form of bragging rather than meaningful content for their session.
  • Despite the psychiatrist's role, they struggle to direct the conversation in a way that would typically be considered therapeutic, highlighting a challenge in their professional practice.

In Session: 19

The Lay Psychiatrist and The Undertaker

(Girl With Red Hat on Unsplash)

It was dark out until I remembered I was wearing a sleeping mask. The light was blinding until I remembered my bedroom window faces west. I was disoriented. My first physical act of the day is to stand up using just my legs, go to the shower where I sink into deep meditation, then I turn on the cold water tap.

My first wife said I look like a bear except with more hair on my back. My second wife said I look like a refigerator. It’s funny how one person sees one thing and another person, something else. I didn’t understand the refrigerator thing other than that I have a light inside that comes on when you open the door.

My first client of the day is The Undertaker, or that was the name he wrestled under last time we were in the ring together. He bores the shit out of me socially, because he’s always name dropping.

“I walked into the bar and I hear, ‘Undertaker!’ and there’s David Allen Coe and Steve Goodman, both waving me over to their table like I was Cousin Fester.”

I welcome The Undertaker with open arms and we bounce around the office, playing, but also not playing. We are testing our strength. We turn loose by invisible agreement. I try to ask how I can help, but he cuts me off.

“You won’t believe who I ran into at the airport,” he begins, as soon as he sits down. I want to stop him but nothing can stop him. “Father John Misty,” he says. “I didn’t recognize him because he was dressed like a priest, but he knew me right away, and he says, ‘Nobody could miss you in that black cape, Undertaker. Let me buy you a …’ he thinks a second and then he snaps his fingers. ‘House red,’ he says. I was touched. I said, ‘You used to tend bar, Josh. You remembered my drink.’ And he admitted he was a tender.’”

He goes on like this for fifty minutes. He knows Frank Silva and they hang out while Silva’s designing sets. Evie Colbert likes to be tossed up into the air and caught, like a rag doll. At least that’s what he’s telling me.

“I was doing that as a sideline — tossing people — when I needed some cash flow, and pretty soon Stephen was wanting me to throw him up and catch him, too. I started getting referrals to a high end clientele. Say, I’ve got to meet Joe Saylor for coffee at eleven so I have to cut this short.”

He was The Undertaker, because if you get in the ring with him, you’re dead. That was how his ego cast itself, as the toughest guy in the game. But he has turned into Charon, a different kind of undertaker, transporting conversation to the land of the dead. I am at the window, looking down on the street, and this tosser is making sure I see him getting into the stretch.

It’s a rental.

Lay Psychiatrist
Shadowgnosis
Humor
Abstract
Open Kimono
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