I’m in love with Gabriel Byrne. I’ve loved him ever since Miller’s Crossing. Despite his various shitty roles, I’m in love with him. And then, In Treatment. I don’t have television, so I see these things after other people. I’m just watching season 2 now. Extraordinary. I feel like I was in that family. The one with the tender, deeply empathic and intuitive father, who nevertheless didn’t have a real relationship with his children. Who never let me have my feelings. Or voice my thoughts. A family systems counselor who didn’t hear me.
I went to a therapist for a while who father figured me. I’d sit in his office, and watch his hand on his beautiful old leather chair, or his ruddy animated little Santa Claus face, and enjoy his propensity to say fuck this and fuck that. He was so unlikely. He got mad at me in a session once and went all stern and commanding and I closed off. Why would I need another father to yell at me? The other half. That’s the part I miss. The tender part.
I’ve been thinking about that word betrayal. Is it empirical? Can you calculate betrayal into a provable equation? This situation met the criteria, and facts are facts. I can’t bury the living. I guess that’s the benefit of being ethical rather than moral. I love you in spite of everything.