ABSTRACT
Ben, a man in his mid-thirties, describes himself at age four. “Idiot,” he says, “jumping and singing, thoughtlessly horsing around.” Then his father fell ill, and Father’s best friend would come visit them every day, and father died, and Father’s friend slept over for many days, perhaps years. “It sounds very confusing …” I begin saying, using that tone of mine, which in retrospect conveys that I sense more than mere confusion. “Stop that fucking feeling,” Ben interrupts me decisively in mid-sentence, then apologizes. “I can’t stand it when you suddenly sound moved. Don’t be offended, it has a physical effect on me, it’s uncomfortable, even disgusting.”
