Therapy isn't supposed to be easy (it certainly isn't if you take it seriously), but my general view is that it's one of the greatest luxuries out there. I haven't seen a therapist in years but a documentary about a famous patient and his therapist...? I'm not sure.
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Every so often I reflect on what the accumulation of time does to some people, and what it's done in particular to...well, friends and family, of course, but hotshots I've run into over the years and especially the occasional supernovas. I began thinking about Jack Nicholson a couple of days ago. William Faulkner's concept of eternity will always apply ("the past is never dead...it's not even past"), but the more it sinks in the more the present seems to concurrently intensify.
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I was terrified that Pennsylvania’s Democratic candidate for the U.S. Senate would make some sort of grammatical mistake or lose his train of thought or something. He stumbled once or twice but he did…well, okay. (Except for the fracking answer.) Anyone who would vote against John Fetterman because he isn’t fully recovered from his stroke has no heart or compassion for those who’ve had to cope with a serious but temnporary medical condition. Fetterman is a soul man and a much better human being than Mehmet Oz, who said last night that he would support Trump in the ’24 election if nominated.
I first interviewed Drew Barrymore in the summer of 1982, when she was seven. It was for an Us magazine cover story about E.T., The Extra-Terrestrial. I ran into her again in ’99 at that Sunset Marquis bar (Bar 1200) — she and Luke Wilson were parked at a table, and I sat down for a chat.
The Drew Barrymore Show has been happening since 9.14.20. I like the red-yellow-green flag game, and I enjoyed this session in particular because Stewart strikes me as a no-bullshit type who has her own opinions and holds her ground when challenged or prodded.
Unlike Barrymore, I should add. During a 5.17.21 interview with Dylan Farrow and during a discussion of Allen v. Farrow, Barrymore threw Woody Allen under the bus. In ’96 Allen cast Barrymore in Everyone Says I Love You, the second best film she made in her life.
I'm not talking about Jack Nicholson's Bobby Dupea abandoning Karen Black's Rayette Dipesto at a gas station in rural Washington. This I understand. Dupea comes from an eccentric musical family and, despite his job history as an oil worker, regards himself as an intellectual rebel artist. He'd rather slit his throat than submit to a conventional middle-class Bakersfield life as Rayette's husband (and perhaps as a father to their unborn child). And so, like a chickenshit junior high-school nihilist, he decides to escape.
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