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09-10-03 - 2:59 a.m.

My brain is like a poorly crafted pinball machine, thoughts getting stuck in corners flashing the "tilt" light, and it makes me want to take a sledgehammer to everthing and smash it all to pieces. Your brain doesn't do this. Mine does it all the time. Idiocy would be easier and happier. More sociable. More creative. More relaxed.

I need a plunger. I need drano. I need another metaphor for unclogging.

The sledgehammer can't bash itself. Imagine it trying. Imagine thoughts leaping from neuron to neuron, falling short, receptors firing over and over til they overheat. It's the same headache.

A wicker basket burrowing into sand. Strips of bark scratching at panes of glass. A marshmallow scraping drywall. Pushpins cracking concrete.

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Fiction: Ye Most Lamentable Comedy of Dr. John Doe Faustus

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