clap clap blog: we have moved

Monday, January 10, 2005
This is going to be kind of vague, but nevertheless...

I just got a call from my former doctor, who is apparently doing some sort of presentation on people with my condition who are involved with music. I answered his questions politely, though it was somewhat awkward given that I am at work and, as should be obvious from this post, it's not something I'm entirely comfortable talking about in public. But I was helpful and reasonably friendly.

What I really wanted to say to him, though, was something more along the lines of, "Fuck you, asshole. You're supposed to be some sort of goddamn expert, and it came through in this conversation, in your tone of voice, in the way you asked me questions: you are a Very Important Person and Know Lots Of Things About This Subject. But you wouldn't listen to me back when I was actually your patient; you wouldn't take me seriously, and it wasn't until I got to New York and started seeing a doctor whose main clientele was cute old Chinese ladies in for PT that I got a medication that actually worked and didn't fuck me up. You refer to it as 'very unusual,' but I've met other people on it, and it works really well for them, too, and if you were a real doctor instead of an egotistical dickhead, you would be offering it, too. But I gather from the way you phrase the question that you are not. You asshole. You wanna ask me if my condition has impeded my career in music? It hasn't. But you know what impeded my life? Your treatment, motherfucker. I hope you get eaten by a marmet, and I don't even know how that would work."

This is not what I said, of course; but still.