This is one of the most difficult things i've had to write about to date.

Those of you who read carefully will be aware of my thoughts on being copied. So, imagine my surprise when an anonymous commenter on my Limewire dating post told me that someone has been copying my posts and passing them off as their own.
It was more than weird, reading my own words through someone else's site. I mean, i know our online selves are not our true selves. These fragments can never tell the whole story, and they're not meant to. Not for me anyway. As my title suggests - for me it's as much about what you don't say. I'm really interested in the stuff between the lines - the stuff you decide really doesn't need to be broadcast on the Internet (and conversely how the hell we choose the stuff that does). But I realised that as soon as i publish something, it's subject to change by it's readers. But i don't want to control that, i want it to be out there and become a developing, changing document.
However, this has been a reality check for me, i'm looking into intellectual copyright. I'm going to make sure that despite my desire to make links with people and put stuff out there, if anyone is going to get credit for my ideas and indeed if anyone is going to make money from my writing or from SOUNDTRACK or any associated projects, it will be me.
So Bloggers beware: it happens. And if you want see it with your own eyes -look for the post dated 19th May 2007 (at the bottom of the front page).

Can't sleep

My mum hugged me and said, "You're an immensely talented person. This is last minute nerves."

I installed SOUNDTRACK, my current story-telling project, in the bar seven days ago. The festival runs for another week but so far the project has exceeded my expectations (can't remember what my expectations were now). People have been coming out of the woodwork with all sorts of gems. I've been taking them away and editing them, and adding them in the next day. I can't leave the thing alone. I've been sitting there nearly every day to see how people are reacting to it, i've called everyone i know (who couldn't make it to the private view) and insisted that they come down for a listen. I couldn't go today or yesterday, and i've really missed it! Like a friend who might be having fun while i'm not there.
As boxes go, this one is good.

Truth is....

I want to run around a huge empty field screaming. I don't want anyone to be around to ask me what's wrong, or to look at me like i'm a mad woman.
When i've finished screaming i want to lay down in the sun and go to sleep.
When i wake up, i want my life to be different. I want to be a person who makes a living from something that she is good at and she loves. I want to come home to someone who loves me and looks after me and i want to have more time for other people because my life is running pretty smoothly.
I don't want to be sitting here obsessing about my storytelling project and wishing i'd never started it. I don't want to be a person who doubts everything thing they do to the point where nothing ever gets finished. I shouldn't be doing this.
I should be looking for a job- since i left the one that was making me miserable and now only have two weeks savings left.
I don't want to work for that woman i met yesterday who, when i bounced in all friendly and enthusiastic about teaching photography again, gave me a limp handshake and talked to me in that way that only bitter post-menopausal women can talk to younger women ( i could tell she thought i was younger than i am). "You haven't got much experience, have you?"
But am i going to do any of this? Or am i just going to send her my cv and show her some prints (as if she'd know fine art printing from a picture in the local fucking newspaper) and will i try and make her like me so she'll give me the job, and then make myself miserable all over again.
Or maybe i shouldn't do any of the above and try and start up a garden design business. Forget about being a fucking artist, take that risk of self-employment -maybe it'll be easier second time around......
I kind of thought i could do all of the above, but maybe that's where i'm going wrong.

What are we going to do when there are no more record shops?

Okay, iv'e just fallen in love with someone on Limewire.
I hardly ever use the 'browse host' button, but tonight i was downloading Mungo Jerry's 'In the Summertime' and i thought i'd see what kind of cat would have such a tune in his library.

I love this person! I mean this host has a virtually faultless music taste! He's got everything: all the obvious stuff like the Beatles, Beachboys, the few best Stones songs, Stevie Wonder etc. But then he's got Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson, Mamas and the Papas, Isley Brothers
without being ashamed to have a bit of Abba, ACE OF BASE!, the themes from Grease and Saturday Night Fever in there too. Then he's got 70's folk: Cat Stevens, Credence Clearwater Revival, America, Rod Stewart AND 70's disco- Sister Sledge, Jacksons etc.
Bit of Weezer, Fugees 'Ready or Not'; the (Dirty) version of 'Don Cha' by the Pussycat Dolls.
The only track that grated was a Shania Twain song, but i'm not above being won over if the right person had an argument for that being good.
He's also got TV themes including the theme tune from Charlie Brown and Snoopy, and Bart and Michael Jackson sing Happy Birthday Lisa!!!!! GSOH, no need to overstate it.
I expect by this point that the astute among you may be saying to yourselves " But how'd you even know this host is male? Huh? Eh?"
Lean over so i can whisper in your ear.

There were some WWF theme tunes in there.

But i can overlook that!

Anyway, how cool would it be if Limewire started a dating service? (Someone's going to nick this idea now, aren't they?) So you could contact those file sharers that wanted to be identified and what a great basis for a possible relationship... My idea that one! You heard it here first.

Boxes

I've scraped a MASSIVE dent in the side of my car.
I keep eating a whole packet of fig rolls in one go
and my storytelling project is due to be installed in eleven days time.
It's going to be an archive in progress, that is, it will be all the stories so far on a listening post (possibly with music). I'm expecting that more people will want to tell stories once they've heard the one's i've got so far. I want people to know that any story they want to tell is a good one. I'm interested in all of it, every seemingly trivial little bit, that for some reason lodges in your head. It's really frustrating sometimes when i ask people if they will contribute and they start telling me their story but they think it has to be something else or more, and i want to just whip out a mic and say, "thanks, that was it!"
It's a delicate process of negotiation you know: but it's a great feeling once you get it down on tape. It makes me feel high, like i've managed to slow down time or change it's pace. I'm an archivist. I need to put things in boxes. It's like blogging: it's the new photography.

32 days after ditching Prozac

and i feel okay, in fact, i'm basking in the glow of surviving without them. I realise this could be a false independence as my serotonin levels will remain elevated for a while yet, but who knows i may be able to keep them up all by myself! I'm thinking of taking up running, and if my external circumstances improve that may be enough to keep me going (this has happened before). I just need a few breaks in my creative-life/career/ love-life, or any one of those would do actually.
I am no longer twitching. I am not waking up in the middle of the night. I'm still having some of that numerical dyslexia. That dark colouring around my eyes has gone-other people have commented on this. I think i may have put my half a stone back on. i am not plagued by disproportionate fears about my health or my future in general. I am showing an incredible ability to think about today and maybe tomorrow but not much further than that. I have realised that i am most happy when i am NOT 'multi-tasking'. Does anyone have a word for just focusing on one thing at a time? For doing it and doing it well, and for feeling unequivocally satisfied with that activity, both for it's own sake and for the end or on-going product?
I think it's time that we start inventing our own words to replace that corporate bullshit that is invading the minds of ordinary people and distracting them from free thought.
Any more words or phrases that the world would be better without? Lets have a bonfire....

Paper

Have you missed me?
Or is that too much pressure on the relationship at this point?
Anyway.
Iv'e been decorating my beautiful house on Hysteria Lane. To describe my activities more correctly, i've been scraping, filling, sanding, stripping many layers of wallpaper, clearing up whole planets of plaster dust, putting on at least three coats of everything (danish oil, undercoat, emulsion, gloss) and generally grafting like a labourer. I no longer need sandpaper as the surface of my very own hands will now suffice for removing old varnish/paintwork. I've been so unsexy; when i sat down on the toilet, plaster fell out of my pants.
However, i said i wouldn't moan about 'getting work done' because it's middle class and boring to do so. I keep reminding myself that i am lucky, and a little surprised to be in this position. It is, after all, only eight years ago that i found myself unemployed, in a council house with neither dog nor man to protect me. But that's another story...
So yes, i have removed all the traces of the daily activity of the previous owner. All those scuff marks and kiddy scribbles have gone. Weird that isn't it? How we all make those tracks of our movements on our home. Like drawing the same thing over and over again.
There's lots of other stuff to catch up on (a backblog in fact). But i don't know if i've lost it for now so lets leave it at that.

Andy Goldsworthy

Went to see his latest installations at YSP.
Wow.
I'm already a big fan, so predisposed, but check this out it's really good.
Four rooms, each with a different sculpture, not so much in the room, but making the room. The first space is dominated by this ceiling high cairn made of logs, left in their natural shape but differing in length and width to make that classic Goldsworthy egg shape- and you can touch this one! I touched it carefully, not because it looks unstable (it looks incredibly solid), but with respect for the system and care that holds this shape together. We all know the thing about an egg being 'uncrushable' from top to bottom, well this piece takes that apprehensive application of imaginary force to another level.
The second space has walls of dried, cracked clay in this beautiful pattern that looks contrived almost in it's repetition of the fissures (although at the same time you know it can't be contrived). This is echoed nicely in the final space where hangs another motif of his: a curtain of leaf stalks that are held together by blackthorns. The curtain is suspended horizontally across the room from the ceiling to the floor and features the hole motif that appears so often in his work. He has put a hole in something that is hardly there already; a delicate curtain of something and nothing like a spiders web.
But finally, my favourite piece. It was almost too amazing to be around. I wanted everyone else to go away, it felt like a private moment as soon as i went in there. Goldsworthy has constructed a dome inside the room from inter-laced chestnut branches. The result is this incredible 'home' that is so warm and living (i'm resisting the description 'womb-like' here because it wasn't like that). The heat generated was totally unexpected for me; you can feel and smell the combination of sap and heat in a way that is almost like sex - or maybe that's just me. We all said, "I could live here." It was an odd sensation, and i like the way you can't see when you first enter, there is no light so you have to wait till your eyes get used to the dark before you can appreciate the intricacies of the top of the dome for instance.
Hats of Mr. Goldsworthy, hats off.

you know those cliches about 30-something women? They're all true (in my case)

Okay, I got really mad.
I stopped taking my anti-depressants on Friday (against my doctors advice). I figure if i start feeling like shite then i can always start taking them again. They work on a very slow-release basis, so nothing dramatic is going to happen. I've still got the twitching, the numerical dyslexia and the inability to concentrate/ believe that anything is of much consequence really. However i can feel my sex-drive creeping back. I didn't even notice it had gone to be honest (or didn't much care) until the last couple of days. It's really been making me laugh, i've been revelling in it. It's really funny.
Other shifts have taken place -mostly yesterday actually- both inside and outside my body. The mucus blockage in my head started to move on down (a little too much information perhaps?). I could hardly breath in the morning but then it all started to come out (gross!) and by the evening my voice had almost returned to normal. My eyeballs are no longer squeaking and if i take paracetamol i feel almost human. Fuck Prozac, paracetamol's where it's at. It's been relaxing me to a frightening degree. I have slept through the day for hours on end- i was too scared to do this before because i thought i was depressed.
Yoga helped too.
The other thing is that my old yoga teacher is coming back! It's ridiculous, but when she left i cried a river. I cried when someone told me she was leaving; i cried when she announced it in class; i cried all through her last class and when i read her goodbye letter. I'm crying now just thinking about it. At the time i thought that was perhaps an unhealthy attachment to someone who is not after all a friend. But her voice was encrypted in my mind, it gave instructions when she was not there and was one of the few constants in the previous seven years of my life.
Anyway.
Today i had a massive gorgeous sleep and when i woke up i did two things that have been eluding me - both technical and related to my story-telling project.
I feel like i'm unfolding and i know i am not depressed.

Mrs Angry

I'm so angry.
I'm so angry i could go around screaming and shouting and hitting things if there were anyone here to listen.
I'm angry with every fucking arsehole who's ever trampled all over my feelings; i'm angry for every job i didn't get that i know i could have done; i'm angry that i always blame myself and that any lack of achievement in my life is only really down to me; i'm angry that i'm taking drugs to make me deal with things more in the way that other people do; i'm angry that my head is full of snot, i feel like shit and i've felt like this intermittently over the last two years; i'm angry that i can't breath like every body else does and i have to breath into a fucking tube to check how badly my lungs are performing; i'm angry that there's no one to look after me when things get like this.
I sat here and i thought i wasn't even going to be able to cry. I sat here thinking that my eyes are dry and nothing's going to come out. My feelings have been plastered over, smoothed out so that they look nice, so they can be painted on, and no one will have to look at those cracks and lines any more.
You're not supposed to look into the cracks are you: because you might fall in.

"...if that makes a difference"

It was my friend's thirtieth birthday party and i had decided to get really dressed up.
I wore this fabulous dress that i got in Chinatown in Soho ages ago. It's a full length dark green satin Cheongsam with a thigh high split at each side and a peacock embroidered in red and white thread on the front. It's tail feathers are not on display but curve down the skirt of the dress behind the bird. I wore red heels and far more make-up than i normally do. I was looking hot.
First of all he asked one of my friends, "who's the fox in the green dress?
Now i've met this guy lots of times before over the years, so i wasn't impressed that he had only just noticed me after all that time. Then he came and sat next to me and said, "Can just say that you look absolutely gorgeous. You're so burlesque."
Never been called that before; but it was unmistakably a compliment.
But he didn't overdo it, which is always a point-scorer in my book, he just let me get on with my night.
At the end of the night the birthday girl thanked him for DJing. Within my earshot he said, "No problem, i'll DJ for you any time, as long as she's there," and pointed in my direction.
Now this particular friend has a way of convincing me to do things in my love-life that i would not normally do. (I don't know why she has that effect on me- i could give you other examples but perhaps another time.) A few days later she's telling me that i should phone him and go for a drink with him. She gives me the low-down on his personal history and it all seems fine. I argue and say that i don't ask other people, they ask me. She gives me his number and i convince myself i should do it because i never do things like this, and everybody else does it and thinks nothing of it, and that's possibly why i'm the only single person i know.
So, i text him and ask him if he wants to go out....
The next day i get a reply which says that, sure we can go for a drink, but he's been seeing someone since the start of the year (NB. it was February) if that makes a difference.

How utterly perfect a message is that? The ultimate in ambiguous textual intercourse.

So, could be read as "we can go for a drink if you want to be friends" or equally "we can go for a drink if you are happy to proceed knowing that i have a girlfriend".

Am i being too obvious by spelling this out?

OMG!

This is the first time ever that i have had to force myself to write a post.
What's going on?
I don't know what to write about. Nothing seems exciting enough to put down. This is really weird, i don't like it.
I've really been enjoying your comments recently, maybe you could help me out. I could tell you a tale about my love-life; or i could tell you what i got up to in London a couple of weeks ago; my experience of the recent lunar eclipse or erm, struggling here.....it's all me, me, me isn't it?

I've labelled all my posts! This is not because i would like to tell you exactly what each post is about- then you might not even feel the need to read it!! No, i just like labels and boxes, they make me feel organazised. In fact i love it when you get a comment and you don't really understand what it means because the person who wrote it was thinking about something entirely different (or related in their mind). It's great when that happens. For the love of ambiguity, i invented the label 'miscellaneous'. These are the posts which resist being pinned down. These can be about anything you want them to be about. Indeed they will be better for it.
So, i didn't plan this post. It's the nearest to free-association that i'm going to get. "Can you tell what it is yet?"

Dig this

There's a knock at the door.
"Flowers or something for you, love."
It's not flowers, not yet anyway.
It's a magnolia stellata that i ordered for myself on valentines day. It will be the second thing to flower in my new garden (after the crocus's).
I run some water into the sink (not too cold) and stand the pot there whilst i get my boots on. I'm going to plant it in the circular bed in front of the apple tree, but first i have to dig out all the clumps of grass that are in the bed, otherwise it just won't be right.
I love doing this. I love getting weeds out too. I love it when you have a patch of ground that needs clearing and you fork it over and pull out all those couch grass roots and green bits (with your fingers) so it's soil only. I love digging and breaking up great big lumps of clodding sods. I love the smell of soil and i love the way you can look back on your work and say, "I did that and it looks just how i wanted it to. Next year it will be beautiful, and for years after that if i look after it."

Scooters, vacation, fall

So, these are my symptoms at present. (that's what you want to know, isn't it?)
My memory and concentration have continued to get worse over the past few weeks. In November i felt out of it, but i needed to feel that. I needed to feel the opposite of that disproportionate amount of anxiety -which was verging on hypochondria and was full blown paranoia- to get through that time. But now: it's just massively inconvenient.
I can't remember more than one thing at once. So, if i've got three things to do upstairs, i'll go up, do one of them, come down and then remember the other two. Similarly when talking on the phone, i have a list of things i need to tell the person in question. I will tell them one thing and then consider myself done. Then i have to ring them back.
I've also got this weird kind of dyslexia. It's especially bad with numbers. I look at the number (time,date, amount, whatever) and when i look away from it, it's not that i've forgotten it, it's more that it's been replaced by some other bogus, random figure.
The reason i hate this, is that it is the polar opposite of my actual personality. I am not vague, inaccurate or inefficient. So, as the Doc pointed out, these are the symptoms of depression as well as the side-effects of anti-depressants. So i figure, to find out if i am depressed, i need to stop taking them. If the symptoms improve then i know that stopping is the right thing to do. If the symptoms continue i'm depressed and i'm fucked.
But on a more positive note. Two things: i've started dreaming again and i'm starving. [My mum would say, 'You're not starving. You don't know the meaning of the word.']
Ok, so i'm hungry. Really, really hungry. I'm hungry in between meals, i'm hungry before bed, i'm waking up before dawn feeling really, really hungry. But this is good, and i'm enjoying the dreams.
And finally- i had that thing again last night where i wake myself up running. This time it was a bit different. It was more like stopping myself from slipping down. It was more like scrabbling upwards (horizontally- if you know what i mean). And i'm still twitching, but it hasn't got any worse. So, there it is.

Twitching the night Away

I've had a slight twitch since January. I don't think anyone else can see it. It's just small muscular spasm, like the ones you get when you're just about to fall asleep. It only happens when i'm sitting or lying down. I asked the doctor if it's a side effect of the medication. She said it's more likely to be a side effect of the anxiety.
I haven't put my half a stone back on either.
Come on! Who's got my half a stone?? I need it back!
I also woke up running in the middle of the night last Sunday. I was peddling like mad. Like when you're at the bottom of a pool and you know you're running out of air.

Anyway, I'm finally going to London to see N and Dimitri. Back on Tuesday. Let you know if there's anything to report.

Clean

I was going to write about Skins (last night on E4) but i think i'll give it another chance and watch it again next week.
I've just come back from the Turkish Baths. It's two years since i last went- which is far too long. This time i went in the plunge pool twice. Normally i'm a complete wuss when it comes to being cold, but this time i loved the shock and the exhilaration of going from really hot to really cold. As i laid on a recliner in the first dry heat room, i felt the buzz my body reacting to the extremes. I found myself thinking that this was better than any buzz from alcohol, nicotine or other drugs (how thirty-something am I?)
When the buzz subsided i need the heat of the second dry heat room.
However liberated i like to think i am, i cannot help being disturbed by the nakedness of strangers. I kept my bikini on (until my final shower) but of course many women (mainly older women) are naturally naked. I wonder what the age is when you cease to give a fuck about other people seeing your snatch?
The next dry chamber is the hottest of all. I need to lay down on the stone which is covered by a towel. I put my head on the amazingly comfortable block of wood and give in to the heat below me. I remember the thing about living in the moment and i think about the intense heat located at the base of my spine and the relaxing effect it is having on my lower body. There's a similar but less intense feeling in the shoulders.
I repeated the whole process and drank lots of water.
For my final shower i used a lime and lavender body wash which smells fantastic. Then in the rest room, i used a complementary moisturiser which is pretty intoxicating. I reveled in the thought that i was almost certainly the best smelling woman in the room. Feeling heady with my own gorgeousness and the level of relaxation i don't move for about fifteen minutes (except to drink a smoothie).
I finally get dressed really, really slowly, toweling my hair and putting back each item of clothing carefully. I'm so clean, cleaner than i have been for the past two and a half years. I think about the last time i visited: November 2004.
I just bumped into him in the bar, it was my birthday celebration and i was enthusing drunkenly about how wonderful the Turkish Bath had been. Of course i said,
'You have to go, it's amazing'. To which he replied,
'Well someone would have to invite me, wouldn't they?'

I have steamed the last two and a half years out of my body and i'm ready to start again. Im clean, the cleanest i've been (Depeche Mode).
I drive home, and although i am all soft on the inside, i am bouncy and i do not feel the January cold, in fact i welcome it, and i listen to "The Second Coming" all the way home.

Latest news from Hysteria Lane

There is a bird stuck in my window frame.
I could hear some scrabbling and naturally thought it must be a mouse. I went over to the area where the sound was coming from to see if there was any 'evidence'. A hole in the floor boards.
As i put my head down towards the hole i realise that the scrabbling sound is not coming from down under the boards but is directly in my left ear.
Could a mouse be stuck in the window frame?
The scrabbling noise is quite frantic. I thought i heard something the other day, but it wasn't as insistent as this.
I try and work out how this could happen, but can't. Then i see some brick dust or something on the window sill. Aha! I go outside to look for a possible entry point and put my head towards the corner where the sound is coming from. I peer towards a small gap in between the frame and the sill and out pops a tiny frantic claw. I jump back thinking, 'What kind of creature is that??'
On second look i see a glimpse of blue and yellow stuff. It's a bird, and there's no way i can get it out of there. So i'm sitting here typing and listening to periodic attempts by the poor thing to get free. It keeps tapping (presumably with it's beak) as though there might be some way out through the PVC frame. I try and think of someone to call who might be able to do something but i can't think of anyone who might know what to do.
So i write this, and wonder if that will make me feel better.

Tumbleweed

Before the vote is cast......
Anyone who knows me would know that i am a massive fan of Big Brother.
At the moment it's got everything, including the tumbleweed moments with Davina on stage. It's such excellent theatre!!!!
And this stuff is really important. The innate racism of Britain exposed to the world. It's got tragedy- Danielle and Jo and the hapless Jack and Jade (like the couple who tumble down the hill with the pail of water)- when they get out they won't even understand the concept of 'innate racism', and in a way it's not even fair that they should be paraded as examples of this tendency.
At the moment Jade is crying and saying she wants to walk out to no-one (as opposed to a crowd baying for her 'racist blood'). She is writing her own story here. She's crying because she has been exposed. But it's also not fair to compare her words with the composure and grace that has been shown by Shilpa Shetti. Who's fault is this? The housemates have commented that Jade can't be a racist because she is 'mixed race'. She told Shilpa that she would never judge anyone on the colour of their skin- after all, we are all 'mixed race', are we not? Totally missing the fact that racism is about the misunderstanding between one culture and another.

Frankensteins Monster

I went to an all girls high school. When i was about thirteen, i created a fantasy boyfriend. I drew him in my exercise book and showed him off proudly to all my friends. He was made up of the different body parts of several different boys that i knew - so and so's hands; such and such's head etc.
It didn't occur to me that i had created a monster.
I have come to realise that i am still doing that now (twenty years or so on), cobbling together this weird creature that fits with all the different aspects of my life. I've got one who provides reliable sex; one who provides the kind of love and romance that i crave and one who kind of fits in with my domestic/social life.
I haven't done this consciously, and have hated it in the past when people have not been exclusive with me. They seem satisfied with the part that they've got, but i'm not. I do want exclusivity, so what am i doing?
I think i'm reflecting my own schizophrenia. My domestic, social, work and creative lives are four different countries.
What i really want is all that in one person. One person who can cope with all those things and bring something else to the party.
I even know now (just as i'm writing) what i need to do. It's high time all those parts joined back together-then my monster will become my soul mate.

20 Q

Anyway, 20 Q.
You think of something and 20 Q guesses what you are thinking of within 20 questions (plus another five if it gets it wrong first time). It uses a set of deductive questions- which in themselves are genius.
So i'm thinking "this is genius, but what's it going to say if i think of something rude". I really wanted to see if it would get all confused and come up with some random unrelated object like TORTILLA CHIP.
So of course i'm thinking - 'cock' , and laughing away at my own childishness whilst getting comfy on the sofa. The first questions are always
IS IT ANIMAL/VEGETABLE/MINERAL/OTHER?
You can only press buttons that answer Yes, No, Sometimes, Rarely or Unknown. We had already worked out that if you say animal vegetable or mineral, it's definitions within these categories are pretty narrow. So, i go for 'other' and make my way through the now more familiar list of eliminators, IS IT BROWN? DOES IT FIT IN AN ENVELOPE? ETC.
I answer with the affirmative when it asks DOES IT BRING PEOPLE JOY? And DO MOST PEOPLE USE IT EVERY DAY? (Well they do don't they?)
We're getting close to question 20 and i'm convinced it's not going to get it, "I'm going to beat 20 Q by thinking of something that not in it's vocabulary, i'm so smart !"
Question 20 is answered.
I'M THINKING....
YOU WERE THINKING OF A MUSCLE
I feel a mixture of disappointment and vague embarrassment. I sit there thinking, "Is a penis a muscle?" My Biology is as bad as my geography.
I decide to answer No.
I'LL TRY AGAIN
I'M GOING TO WIN
Five more questions. DOES IT CONTAIN LIQUID?
Well kind of.
YOU WERE THINKING OF A GLAND
Again, faint embarrassment. Is it a fucking gland?
I'm pissed off. This isn't funny.
It knows what i was thinking, it was just too polite to say it.