the dread of playing this live show has metastasized from my brain to my
chest. when i think about it i feel like a bony hand is gripping my heart,
not allowing it to expand fully. i grow short of breath. I’M NOT A
MAGICIAN. I’M A FUCKING SURGEON. i’m suddenly full of anger. anger
directed inward that is bouncing off my waxy carapace towards other people
(like a cheap crossbow dart). it is, clearly, a maddening affair, from
which i’m trying to extricate myself. this is the third time this has
happened.
