clearly i am quite mad. i wrote this before i had even seen the psychologist. it was just the implication that i had to see one at all that forced me into further madness. i was forced to see a psychologist in the infancy of my recovery from neuro-surgery and had to do a Rorschach test. i could not remember the name, what it was called, so looked up the ink spot test on Google. the first hit on Google was a link on how to beat the Rorschach test. even though all i wanted was the name i couldn’t help but look at such an interesting hit. the first thing my eyes scanned to was a line that said, don’t make all of your answers sexual even if you see sexual images. i don’t like anyone telling me what to do…

I was speaking to JT, the owner of Bondi Ink the other day. He’s a good bloke, has a handshake like putting your hand in a pneumatic vice. It’s like shaking hands with Andre the Giant. Still, that’s better than the other way. It’s better than shaking hands with a jellyfish. At least you know he’s all there. Anyway JT asked me how I was getting on so I told him? I told him I was still fighting my body and the corporation. I told him that they were making me see a psychologist. Yeah, he said, that’s their answer to everything isn’t it. Now you can say whatever you want but I didn’t contradict him, you don’t want to argue a man with hands that big. I didn’t tell him but he was wrong. It’s not their answer to everything… it’s their question

behind a card

He held the Rorschach card just below his nose and gently asked

-Now tell me what you see?

I saw the flickering fluorescent light shining off his balding head

-You hiding behind a card

-Very good but what do you see on the card?

-Um… I see Madonna holding two car tyres at arms length, she’s got her pointy breastplate on and she’s in labor giving birth to a crab with moth wings. You can see her uterus and she’s singing like a virgin

He sniffed and gave me a look that I cannot describe in words. He took the first one down. There was a large piece of wax paper between each. His finger tapped in the air at the next one

-Ahh… that’s a bat on its way home. It’s finished eating the berries and has shit all over my driveway

He winced and inhaled sharply. It looked like he didn’t believe me

He was right. I didn’t believe me either

He started pulling the card slowly and gently down to his lap. He suddenly stopped halfway as if he was going to pull it back up but didn’t. He had hands like a lady. His fingers only ever touched the sides. He was treating the cards with an almighty reverence. If he hadn’t put on such an act I may never have seen a new-age snake charmer

-And now this one, he inquired? The card looked a mangle and could have been any of four different things

-Uuum… that’s two pregnant Indian squaws with erect nipples. They’re on their knees and they’re kissing. 

He studied me silently with a look somewhere between lonely and sad and took the card down to reveal the next

-And what do you see here, he asked?

-That one’s two girls kissing

The room fell silent. I felt a cold trickle of sweat drip down from my left armpit. The clock on the wall ticked.

-No, I said, that’s two women kissing

He took the card down and there was another behind it

-No sorry, I said, that last one was two girl’s kissing

-And what’s this one, he said as he tapped at the corner of the picture with his pen?

His ladyfingers were long pink and thin and his fingernails were unclipped and pointy. I wondered if a man with fingernails that long was in a position to tell me anything about myself?

-That’s three girl’s kissing, I said. I folded my arms for a punctuation stop and smiled

-And what’s this one, he asked as he peeled the card down to his lap revealing another?

I studied his nose and the big blackhead in the middle it. I wondered why he hadn’t squeezed it. The blackhead was big and full of pus and I again wondered how someone in his position could walk around like that. I wondered why he couldn’t see it?

-That’s three girls kissing one girl…

He stared at me as though he hated me. Every second felt like an hour as he held my stare. He put the cards down on the table. His left leg was crossed over his right and he kept drawing it back. He saw me staring at his body language and uncrossed his legs. His shoulders hunched and both of his hands went to his knees as he asked what I meant? I told him again

-That’s three girl’s kissing one girl… although I can’t tell if she’s enjoying it or not…

-Enjoying what? He snapped back at me with a look of shock on his face

-Being kissed

-This is serious you know, he said as his back straightened. His legs spread and his arms folded for a punctuation stop. He knew I was full of shit

-Being kissed, I asked?

-No I mean what we’re doing here today. This method is based upon decades of clinical analysis

I smiled and said

-Anal suss-suss

-No I’m serious, he demanded, what are you doing here today?

I watched as his fingers turned pinker around the picture as he gripped it tightly. I looked at the three diplomas on his wall. I thought of all the years it took him to realise what he knows. I thought of how I’d been bullied and victimised into this situation. More than half the world is crazier than I am but yet I had to prove it. I thought of what I was doing there and told him the truth

-I don’t know what I’m doing here today. I wanted to know the same thing… and why are all those girls kissing?

-….

Andrew Stuart Buchanan