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2004-08-29 | 9:40 a.m.

OK. Apparently not everyone has Prince-on-the-brain to quite the same degree as I. My "lady caps writer" subject line reminded me, music and all, of the song "Lady Cab Driver." Don't you remember that one? If you do, go ahead and sing it. Doesn't it sound as if it could be "lady caps writer"?

There is another, possibly more interesting, yet grisly interpretation. Duff pointed it out to me. Since Mercury is still in retrograde (is it? I don't really know), I'll point it out. It hinges on the word "caps," which is slang for "kills." So now you can imagine the phrase as a headline in a Al Capone-era newspaper.

In other developments, I feel weird. Something happened, or didn't happen, involving lots of people, and I can't stop thinking about it and my role in it, even though none of it is terribly important. But I still feel weird and embarrassed. I wish I knew how to forget about it. Instantly, I mean. It'll all be forgotten in a day or two, with or without effort.

Actually, there were two separate things, and both of them are giving me the same sense of uneasiness. I suppose it's unnecessary to be so scrupulous, but getting it out (even in this vague, non-descript way) can help. I'm sort of superstitious about it. The scrupulosity.

Anyway today is a day of rest, I've decided. I'm not interested in seeing or talking to anyone who isn't a blood relation. I just need to regroup. I feel like a fishing boat; hauling in my nets and going home.

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