Monday, October 02, 2006


Jonesing badly today.

Made the mistake of reading that withdrawal takes two weeks, and that cranberry juice helps, and that just as things are declining after Day 3, there is a spike on Day 10.

Well, today's Day 11. Went to Dr. Ming, my acupuncturist, today. I told her what I'd done and she laughed and said "You nervous?" She stuck needles all in my face (I could see them move with my pulse...) and in my ears and wrists and a bunch of places down my legs that I couldn't see.

Acupuncture always makes me a little wonky. Super relaxed or just weird feeling. Today I got a headache and that weird metallic taste in my mouth that I haven't had since Day 3.

Distraction is a good thing. So I've been retouching like a speed demon.

Still jonesing.

The aforementioned Mike Lupica is having another brilliant set tonight on WFMU (see link at right). We must be approximately the same age, 'cause his show reminds me of a show I might do. He just played Bowie's "Candidate (alt)," a demo recording of "Candidate" from the brilliant "Diamond Dogs" that has wildly different lyrics from the version that eventually ended up on the album.

1974. Nixon. In retrospect, I guess those were good times.
Here's the lyrics to the album version.
Photo is of Kimberly who stole this shirt from me.
Both song and shirt pretty much sum up what I think of most things...

“I'll make you a deal, like any other candidate
We'll pretend we're walking home 'cause your future's at stake
My set is amazing, it even smells like a street
There's a bar at the end where I can meet you and your friend
Someone scrawled on the wall "I smell the blood of les tricoteuses"
Who wrote up scandals in other bars
I'm having so much fun with the poisonous people
Spreading rumours and lies and stories they made up
Some make you sing and some make you scream
One makes you wish that you'd never been seen
But there's a shop on the corner that's selling papier mache
Making bullet-proof faces, Charlie Manson, Cassius Clay
If you want it, boys, get it here, thing
So you scream out of line
"I want you! I need you! Anyone out there? Any time?"
Tres butch little number whines "Hey dirty, I want you
When it's good, it's really good, and when it's bad I go to pieces"
If you want it, boys, get it here, thing
Well, on the street where you live I could not hold up my head
For I put all I have in another bed
On another floor, in the back of a car
In the cellar like a church with the door ajar
Well, I guess we must be looking for a different kind
But we can't stop trying 'til we break up our minds
Til the sun drips blood on the seedy young knights
Who press you on the ground while shaking in fright
I guess we could cruise down one more time
With you by my side, it should be fine
We'll buy some drugs and watch a band
Then jump in the river holding hands…”

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