29.01.06 - 5:38 p.m.
You are on an airplane as I write this, gliding over the mountain ranges, plains, states that separate my home from yours. While you travel, I stay put. I am in bed with Will Oldham and Leonard Cohen. Men, deliberate and sad. We are all three trying to make this environment of my body unsuitable, unpleasant to grow arms, legs, a brain in. Iíve switched off the female parts of me as a personal favor. Unasked for literally but wanted just the same. I hold my nose as I drink the tea; itís the only way my throat will open to it. I try not to think of the person I am flushing from my insides.