En el año 1987, el famoso y díscolo escritor norteamericano Charles Bukowski (1920-1994) conversó con el actor Sean Penn sobre su opinión acerca de diversos y variopintos tópicos (entre ellos: los gatos, Shakespeare, la fama, la soledad, la violencia, el alcohol, etc.). Sus pareceres se pueden leer en Bukowski.net, de donde glosamos el respectivo parágrafo:
«What do psychiatric patients get? They get a bill.
I think the problem between the psychiatrist and the patient is that the psychiatrist goes by the book, while the patient arrives because of what life has done to him or her. And even though the book may have certain insights, the pages are always the same in the book, and, each patient is a little bit different. There are many more individual problems than pages. Get it? There are too many mad people to do it by saying, «dollars per hour, when this bell rings, you’re finished.» That alone will drive any near-mad person to madness. They’ve just started to open up and feel good, when the shrink says, «Nurse, make the next appointment,» and they’ve lost track of the price, which is also abnormal. It’s all too stinking worldly. The guy is out to take your ass. He’s not out to cure you. He wants his money. When the bell rings, bring in the next «nut.» Now the sensitive «nut» will realize when that bell rings, he’s being fucked. There’s no time limit to curing madness, and there’s no bills for it either. Most psychiatrists I’ve seen look a little close to the edge themselves. But they’re too comfortable…I think they’re all too comfortable. I think a patient wants to see a little madness, not too much. Ahhhh! (bored) PSYCHIATRISTS ARE TOTALLY USELESS! Next question? »
En unas líneas anteriores acerca del dolor físico, sobre el cual decía que podía soportarlo y adaptarse a él, Bukowski acotaba: «Mental pain can’t be adjusted to. Keep me away from it.»