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2001-03-30

I�m so sorry y�all aren�t getting to read the goings-on behind sorethroat�s zenana walls, but I�m sure she won�t mind my sharing this morsel:

everything i've said is interconnected. my mind interfucks and the inbred toothless spawn it produces is this writing.

What a good way of putting it! Also, this morning I was relieved to discover that I no longer had that song Bjork performed at the Oscars running through my head. In its place was the phrase �BRAIN DRUGS! ME NEED BRAIN DRUGS!� From seinfeld.

The hideousness of the weather has my mind in a cage�can�t plan, can�t create anything, can�t function at all. What am I going to get, if I really try? The equivalent of those mini-sculptures people in jail make out of toilet paper. I once helped edit the catalogue for an exhibition of art by prisoners ("It's Collectible!"). The artists all had names like Joe "Papa" Smith and Vince "Vaca" Jones and Wayne "Fuck You AND Your Restraining Order BITCH" Witherbee. I implored the curators to list me in the credits as Liz �Blackie� Mackie, but they refused.

If I ever go to a doctor who raises the topic of anti-depressants, I think I�ll ask for the one that makes you stop wondering whether hating the Williams Sisters means you�re a racist.

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