#fuck freud

[selfidentifiednerdyprude]

I thought we all agreed that Freudian psychoanalysis was garbage and yet I see at least one post per day about how horniness is the sole engine of creativity and the thing that makes the world go round. Like. Y'all know that's literally Freud, right? You're doing Freud again. I would like you to stop.

#asexuality #fuck freud #or don't. he'd like that

[writingoneout]

Untilted Katamari Reflections

Preamble:

Content considerations for the following include:

Parental abuse

Bigotry

Worldly anxiety

You're welcome back another day if that's too much right now.

I.

It’s fall of 2015.

You and your virgin college friends drink shitty cocktails called the “Slutty Will Rodgers.” They’re just Pepsi rawdogged with indeterminate amounts of grenadine and Captain Morgan. When you bought the mixers a Wal-Mart stocker yodeled “OOOOoOoooOH, maKIN sOMe DRINKS?!?!” and you knew it was time to leave.

We Love Katamari is on the Telly. It’s a sweet, trippy game you first bought to cope with high school. On Dark Fridays at 1am, when your inbox was barren and your balls were full, you’d drive to the empty gym downtown and sprint six miles. Then you’d come home and replay the firefly level until you fell asleep with your pug.

Your college friends are bad at the game, so they pass the controller. You’re playing the underwater stage. A spaceman falls in the pond of people gunk and stacked crabs. It’s going really well if you’re honest. You point to the screen and say “this’ll be Florida if Trump wins.” See Fig. 1.

Figure 1: Rick Desantis has big plans for Disney.

Your friends don’t reply because they soon won’t be virgins and their tongues battle each other’s. It’s a different game they play, one with fuzzier rules, but greater industry respect. You wish the campus gym was open 24/7.

. . .

Your skills as the prince are not inherent. You first meet him in 2005, when your dyspraxic hands can barely tie a shoe. Your parents catch you lose shit for the Toonami review of Me and My Katamari. They buy it for Christmas, hoping to steady your nerves while your father’s in therapy.

Dr. Flam is a Neo-Freudian hitched to your mom’s guy, Dr. Flim. She’s deep in your dad’s dream journal and makes him watch movies like Cool Hand Luke to really reign in his ego. He gets the DVDs from the Netflix site, then through the mail. As a family you watch your dad’s therapy films and reruns of Inyuasha.

In the waiting room you barely navigate the sticky ball through Namco Bandai’s Satoshi Kon parade. See Fig. 2. You’ve only seen adults express anger verbally, so when you mess up you grunt a lot and let out those Leopold Butters Stotch swears like “crap,” “shoot,” and “gosh darn.” You’re not particularly self-aware, so you probably just say “god fucking damn it” a few times and don’t remember. Years later you realize there was probably a secretary behind the glass watching you do all this.

Figure 2: Bwahbwahwabhbawahbwaaaaah.

Sometimes there’s a girl in the room with you, just around your age. She’s stuck while Dr. Flim teaches her mom about what dream snakes mean for her fear of male puberty. That's what he did for your mom, anyway.

You think the waiting-room stranger is cute, but you won’t admit you like girls yet, especially not to yourself. To cope with the cognitive dissonance, you do your weird shit louder while refusing to make eye contact with her. If you get real stressed you crank up the main menu track and yell “ahhhhh that’s so relaxing” while the “nah nah nah nahs” play through your headphones.

At one point the girl stands against a wall and stares at you with her arms crossed. You bet she thinks you’re cool, but she’s probably just annoyed and hopes you’ll notice, or maybe just ask if she’s OK. It’s probably good you don’t talk with her. You might ask something stupid, like if she's seen the roach corpse in the stairwell. It’s been there for a year straight, isn’t that crazy?

For better and worse, you power through your little game alone. Every time you lose the King of All Cosmos beats, shoots, and belittles you. See Fig. 3. It reminds you of when your own dad shattered your Harry Potter wand over the kitchen counter because you dropped a mini pizza.

Figure 3: The King of All Cosmos offers little constructive advice, all things considered.

You fail quite frequently. Eventually you drop the game because it’s getting stressful and you have the power to relieve yourself of the situation—not the Freudian lobby, just your fake dad.

II.

It’s 2012. PlayStation Network uploads The Prince’s primeval outing: Katamari Damacy. Within, Padre Cosmotic flaps his gums over too much hooch then slams his dump truck ass through the better part of our solar system. He dislodges every recognized constellation and even the moon itself.

Cosmos sends Prince to Earth—the last brick left in the shitstorm—to make slop of our planet and bodies. With the slop space itself will be made anew. The Good Son does as he's told, and every living entity experiences euphoric ego death within the bulbous heaven of the Katamari.

As a Real Gamer Teen you lose a lot less in this one. You really go in and fix Fake Dad’s mistakes, no problem at all. This is why a year ago you hailed “gaming journalism” as your calling. You write clean and play tight; should keep the lights on. It’s the most concrete idea you’ve had since 7th grade when you outlined a YA novel called Tooth Pocket. Even you didn’t think Scholastic would buy that one, though. It was just too hot for the book fair.

One day you’re cranking through FFVI and your real dad swings by, mad you're young. He grills your ass and says “I bet you can’t even tell me the biggest thing happening right now.” It’s some real “What’s a gallon of milk cost?” shit, he could mean anything.

 Surprisingly, you can’t think of a good answer. You and your friends are actually pretty informed because John Stewart is still at the desk and y’all chime in every day. See Fig. 4. You also spend hours each week tearing through MSN slideshows in your Graphic Design class because the Photoshop takes five minutes. You’ve seen a staggering amount of the Syrian civil war.

Figure 4: Sometimes in Snapchat you draw glasses on your cat to make him look like Mitch McConnel. You wouldn't do that without this guy.

Still, you’re a little stumped. It’s the middle of a phenomenon native to moralist presidencies known as "a slow news week.” You actually ran out of war shit the other day and clicked through some slides about Pakistani wrestlers. The seniors who offered you Jack Daniels in the Whataburger lot saw it and laughed. They thought you were peeping dong in class. You really weren’t, but they didn’t believe you. They graduate certain you were bricked up in the Dell Lab over big guys in spandex.

“I don’t know,” you tell your dad.

He throws his hands behind his head, hard, like an orangutan chucking logs at a poacher.

“It’s the fucking carbon tax,” he yells. This comes as a surprise, you think, because that shit is last month’s news. It really didn’t go anywhere.

“Do you not pay attention because you don’t give a shit, or are you just a nihilist and think you can’t do anything?” You can tell in his eyes he thinks there’s a real answer. “Seriously, which is it?

You don’t remember what you said. You probably just stammered until he walked off.

A month later he picks you up from marching band. Your phone is dead, so he had to wait twenty minutes longer than anticipated while you found his car. He punches the rearview mirror until the windshield cracks then screams of how your birth kept him from New England.

III.

It’s 2016. A rockin’ MILF in the Psych department gets you really into Hamilton. See Fig. 5. Every day you wake up on the grind and blast “You Aaron Burr, sir?” through your shitty 7-11 cans. While cramming foreign language Quizlets and McGraw Hill Online you do this thing called “Hafilton.” It’s where rock up to “Nonstop” and quit listening just before Hamilton decides what he will stop is being a good husband.

Figure 5: Like Kojima, you know "MILF" is a mindset, not a factual inquiry.

It’s 2018. Your grades are notably better and you’ve snuck into the honors program. Like Hamilton himself, you really flourished at 19 and thought about running for office. You immediately abandoned this idea after remembering your allergy to recordings of your image or voice.

You cohabit with the Psych MILF, and she offers some advice: she’s really had her boots on the ground with this whole “clinical psych thing” and honestly, respectfully, she loves you, but dear God it might not be your scene. It’s taken a real toll on her and the friends, and she can’t imagine you going through that shit.

At 1am in your living room you boot up DOOM (2016) and listen through some Hamilton. Angelica is thirsty on main when you remember that you, yourself, could be a lawyer. You don’t have to run for Congress to fight the establishment. There’s just the common law, and it’s right there. You can just get your grubby little hands in that shit and work your magic.

. . .

It’s the last semester of undergrad. Your Western Thought professor says Hamilton wasn’t really a huge deal and really James Madison shat out the big parts of our faction-proof empire. Yes, there was, in fact, a civil war, but the caplock rifle worked it out. After the Federalist papers he has you read the Bill of Rights but no Supreme Court cases. There’s a lot of talk on negative liberties.

Just before finals, the learned doctor says your generation only has two things to worry about: the climate and the poverty. Yeah they’re big, he says, but they’re just two things. You’re crafty kids, smart as the framers, even.

. . .

The state decides law school is your jam and lets you come inside.

There’s the negative liberties but you actually read Supreme Court opinions when the big boys aren’t shaking fists for Valley Forge. They have you listen to Hamilton for context. You feel dirty. An LRW professor puts on the “I’m Just a Bill” video and your sectionmate with Ivy degrees gets really, really mad.

. . .

The Federalist Society has a comfy presence at your law school. Along with Big Oil they sling out free pizza to every Little Scalia with a rumbly tum tum.

On your way to class you hear what the pizza boys feel. They hate Europeans, those social democrats with the rotten armories and clumpy cash. The Euros, they think, give too much wiggle room for the mentally ill, and by that they mean they mean gay people and probably just women overall.

There are more than two things to fix, you think.

. . .

The pandemic hits. You and some pals start a Google Doc to stay afloat. It barely works. In the Zoom review for the property final your professor catches multiple people crying. "You don't have to be here," he tells them, “there are other jobs.”

. . .

A year passes. You’re in a niche public interest class you do all right with. The professor looks you and thirty-five others dead in the eye and says how sorry he is that law school is traumatic. You shed a single tear in your little window. You're pretty in the shit and haven’t worn pants to class in months.

Then public interest prof takes a big, big drag from his long, fat spliff. He spins his desk chair and baseball cap at the same time, never letting go of the joint.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s not your fault, really, but the world is fucked. It’s time to fix what your parents did.”

The next week he gives a practice exam where the best solution is to sell an old lady’s house to Nestlé.

IV.

It’s 2022. After throwing your whole gooch at it, you fail the bar exam.

You fall back hard into exercise. When you’re not slamming Barbri you’re at the gym binging curls and cranking the Chainsaw Man soundtrack. One night on the way to squats you finally hear “Black Parade.” Just like you, Mr. Gerry Wayland is stuck between global disrepair and the desire to write Funny Little Books.

You just started an FLB yourself, actually. It’s spin on a Story Break episode you love. In your version there’s a fucked up civil war horse that moves like a spider and is covered in bugs. Rich people kill the planet then the horse gets lost in space. It’s compelling, you promise. There’s body horror and pirates dressed like Gorton’s Fisherman. See Fig. 6 It’s about the horrors of the contemporary world state. It’ll be fun.

Figure 6: An untapped horror icon. Imagine blood contrasting that yellow.

Big problem, though: you remember rich people love hiking. There’s no grass on Mars, not that good shit anyway. Would they really fuck all of it?

You edit. In the last few years, the real breathless ones, the oligarchs cash their tab. A cartel, they think, could really muscle those stragglers, the tragically common. There’s one city left with both breathable air and refugees. They level it. The few survivors are spread amongst the stars, so their loves and languages may die.

. . .

It’s the middle of Bar Prep Round 2. You and the patient MILF see Hadestown in the Big City.

There’s a juke joint on stage flanked by devil trombones. A sad little guy slinks in from the janitor’s closet. His name is Orpheus and, just like you, he’s a sad, short writer who likes a lady so much it comes out weird. He has a vision, he says, for a little ditty. It’s compelling, he promises, and shit’s gonna change. His love is functional and realized, worth the investment of a hardened woman displaced by capital’s torture. She believes him.

You cry because you know where this goes.

It’s just a single tear.

Don’t worry.

Nobody sees.

. . .

There’s this game you like, by some corporate anarchists who hate themselves. They’re Scandinavian, from the spot in Tallin where you stopped for a cruise. Every gift shop there had swastikas and gas masks leftover from the bloody years.

In the game is a liberal yacht MILF. She thinks you’re stupid but someone’s helping with your gun, so you’ve got that on her. And yet, she pins you, re your whole writing thing. See Fig. 7.

Figure 7: She sucked, but it still hurt when she left.

Your favorite Supreme Court podcast says the ocean’s last hope is other countries. But those countries’ people cry to the Disco game, and their ministers also bought The End of History. You meet them on the subreddit. You're all geeked out, waiting for the tide.

. . .

It’s the era of desert cradles. God thinks you’re disgusting, so he sends his better kids with a memo: the flood was too much work on his end, it’s time for something different.

“Just keep walking,” he says.

Your skin bares his figure. So do the corpses. You little birds among billions, gassed out and screaming, move to clean.

V.

It’s 2023.

We Love Katamari is up on the PlayStation store. You sit with the cats and mow down some crabs. You don’t need it so much these days, but it’s nice.

There’s a Bar card in your wallet, just below your gym tag. There are two interviews in your Google Calendar. Good stuff might happen, hopefully soon. You crawl into bed and wrap an arm around your wife’s rib cage.

Everything matters and nothing is safe.

You are loved enough to sleep.

#gaming #actually mentally ill #disco elysium #fuck freud #writing #satoshi kon #2000s anime #law school #environment #hamilton musical #aaron burr #politics #marriage #philosophy #the daily show with jon stewart #bad parenting #my chemical romance #gerard way #existential despair #katamari damacy #we love katamari #succession

[ace-culture-is]

Ace culture is reading Freud for a class and asking why. Just why.

#ace culture is #ace culture #asexual #asexuality #actually ace #submission #mary-is-writing #fuck Freud

[cult-of-the-eye]

Freud would read my Tumblr posts and immediately attempt to diagnose me with wants to fuck my mother syndrome but what's this? I am shooting him in the chest over and over again because he doesn't deserve the effort of me laying my hands on him.

#sigmund freud #freud #shitpost #oedipus complex #fuck freud

[tilting-at-windmills]

Blackout poetry account I started when I had Covid, using Freud’s analysis of patient Dora

#Freud #fuck freud #Dora #blackout poem #blackout poetry #writing #mine #poetry #spilled ink #Instagram

[sophieinwonderland]

ah yes, a self identified experience relating to the self or selves and how one sees their internal monologue/dialogue and/or dissociation is totally comparable to ableists fearmongering about a government poisoning people and giving people *Autism (said in a scary bad tone)*. this is totally how things work.

(/sarcasm)

(also, endogenics just want to be themselves, whereas antivaxxers often suggest to ppl medical "advice" that will get them killed, they are not the same)

This!

But... I do actually want so offer a small defense of certain antivaxxers. Because I think you can break them into two groups. One are just conspiracy people who are just looking for conspiracies everywhere and want to find things to blame the government or illuminati or whatever for...

But another are parents who see their child develop a mental disorder, see how that affects their child's life, and are upset and looking for something to blame.

And in the past... the people they were expected to blame... were themselves.

As always, Freud breaks everything he touches. If you look back to the time before the hoax that vaccines caused autism, the popular theory thanks to Freud was that autism was caused by "refrigerator moms." If your child develops autism, then it must be because you're a bad mother and did something wrong.

So when someone pops up claiming autism is caused by vaccines, it gives all the women who were told that they caused their child's autism another explanation.

The theory is wrong, completely debunked and incredibly harmful.

But I guess... I do feel a measure of sympathy for mothers who were victims of sexism, made to feel responsible for their child developing a mental illness that was outside of anyone's hands, and later jumped to the first explanation they found that didn't involve blaming the parents.

And I can't help but feel that this monster was created by a long history of sexism in psychiatry. That if psychiatrists hadn't pushed for so long that autism was caused by the mothers, the mothers wouldn't have been so susceptible to this type of manipulation and the antivax movement wouldn't have become what it did today.

A lot of harmful ideologies don't exist in a vacuum, and I don't want to forget the environment that allowed this particular one to fester and grow into what it is today.

#antivaxers #anti vaxxers #antivaxxers #syscourse #psychiatry #freud #sigmund freud #fuck freud

[roachzila]

My Twitter has become a Sigmund Freud hate space since I started studying psychology…

#psychology #psychology memes #sigmund freud #fuck freud #freud meme #psychology student #twitter

[stimmingandstruggling]

listen i’ve heard things about freud but i just had to read about a bunch of his shit for class and yall were not exaggerating huh. the oedipus complex wasn’t even in like top 5 weird things he said. i have a new arch nemesis

#freud when i catch you freud. #oh i hate him. i hate him #already hated him bc the oedipus complex is a STUPID name #(oedipus very explicitly DID NOT WANT to fuck his mom) #but oh. oh he’s so much worse than i could have imagined #UGH. THESE ARENT THEORIES THERES NO EVIDENCE AND THEY ARENT FALSIFIABLE SHUT UP #i hate him i hate him i hate him #sigmund freud #fuck freud

[onethousand-moths-in-a-hoodie]

I need to go to hell so I can fight Sigmund Freud

#fuck freud #psychology #who would win

[lasierramorena]

an idea came to me at work today

#roman roy #succession #the roy siblings #logan roy #kendall roy #shiv roy #sigmund freud #psychology #hbo succession #gerri kellman #fuck freud

[runedscope]

Not sure how you can be both asexual and like the absolute hack freud considering freud thinks sex is the basis for all human behaviors and emotions.

#asexual #sigmund freud #fuck freud

[ace-culture-is]

Ace culture is being upset about having to read Freud for school because he doesn’t see you as a human and joking about not being human sounds funny but actually it feels kind of miserable

#dreamerking27 #fuck Freud #asexuality #asexual #ace culture #ace culture is #actually ace

[chucklepea-hotpot]

why is it called oedipus complex when you want to fuck your mom? that guy never wanted that to happen, something cringe happens and i want to stab my eyes out, now that's oedipus behavior and it's way more relatable if you ask me.

#psychology #oedipus #fuck freud #all my homies hate freud #if there are any psychology majors in the tags telling me that it wouldnt be a complex then #you are not funny #tw self harm

[eyluvu]

Psychology A Level is SO fucked icl

#like #thats #a #child??? #god #im probs being dramatic #anyway #FUCK FREUD #vienna rants

[shortgremlinman]

#sigmund freud #freud #fuck freud #shitpost #tiktok #meme #memes #shitposts

[who-wants-a-muffin-official]

by far the funniest thing about sigmund freud is that the only reason he's well known is because his theories were so batshit insane everyone that heard them was so immediately enraged and upset that they did years of research and theorizing just to prove him wrong

#and it worked #cuz his theories are FUCKING CRAZY #the oedipus and electra complexes get me every time #like... girl #stop projecting #and the lesbian thing was interesting to say the least #HAHKJSDFHG #his daughter was so real for that #sigmund freud #freud #fuck freud #i hate freud #anna freud