Thursday, September 22, 2005

Head like a hole...leg like a snausage

Listening: Imani Coppola, La Da Da
Reading: Libba Bray, Rebel Angels

Wow, doubling up on the muscle relaxers really...really makes me dopey. I exist in a fog. A foul-tasting one, as the muscle relaxers have a tendency to start dissolving as soon as you stick them in your mouth and they taste absolutely foul. Mouthwash, O my friend.

As Dr. Pain predicted, I am once again sore. He says that we'll need to do the shots every two weeks (!). I ask, "How long?" A reasonable question, eh? His answer..."Until you don't hurt any more." Ouch. Out, out, damn ligament.

It's always so strange to me that you have to cause yourself more pain to make other pain go away. Does that make sense? Who knows? I'm fuzzzzzzy. I've already had to go back and fix 3 spelling errors and who knows if I've let some creep in unknowing.

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