Says Francois, "The next entry is October 15. Want me to read it?"
"Go ahead", I reply. I am aware that this is getting closer and closer to the date of Kenny's death, which would have occurred December 14.
"My first session with the psychiatrist. He seems okay, around fifty, easy going, not a bad sense of humour. I'm not sure about compassion and empathy, but he doesn't appear hard-hearted anyway. We dwelled a bit on my childhood. Nothing really unusual. Lived with my mom and younger brother from age ten after she kicked dad out of the house, then I got into drugs at sixteen and left school early, only to land in a foster home, then back to hotel Mom and school again, but then back to drugs and before I knew it I was turning tricks dressed up as Cassandra. He asked me questions about my masculine identity, then I told him to stop being an idiot, that I am both and neither. So, then he tried to probe into my lack of male role modelling and I replied that if he continued to go there then he should go to hell and I will look for another therapist. I told him about Lindstrom, just a little bit,about the night in Hotel Vancouver. Next session he wants us to try hypnosis.
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