April 03, 2002 | 3:54 PM

7AB )### Thurston St.

Eating disorders are a personal drama in which the participant plays a dual role:

The Fascist Dictator and the Oppressed Victim.

The fascist dictator makes the rules, provides the barely livable conditions.

Ach. You will only eat between the hours of 6 and 7PM. Not a moment before or after. The punishment for breaking this rule is enforced vomiting. No exceptions. You are only allowed to eat one hamburg patti the size of your palm and one slice of low fat cheese per 24 hour period. These are the only two foods that may pass your lips. If you break this rule, the punishment is enforced vomiting. When you eat, you will cut your food into tiny bite-sized pieces. You will chew each tiny piece 100 times. You will weigh yourself every day. If you do not lose at least four lbs. every week, you will refrain from eating anything until you have lost another pound.

The Oppressed Victim cries out.

Oh I�m so fat and horrible looking. I know I deserve to be treated this way. But please, please can�t I PLEASE have some more food. Oh poor, poor oppressed little helpless me.

Sometimes, the Oppressed Victims steals the reigns and revolts. When this happens, there is a battle. Sometimes the battle rages for a day or two until the Fascist Dictator reseats himself on the throne. Sometimes, the Oppressed Victim ensures a state of total anarchy for weeks or months. During this time the Oppressed Victim can indulge in all of the sinful practices previously denied to her by The Fascist Dictator. The Oppressed Victim scarfs down ice cream and cake and pizza and candy in private where no one can see her. When her tummy is bursting with food, she throws it up and begins the process all over again.

Liberte! Egalitee! Fraternite!

Take that Fascist Dictator! I defy your inhumane laws and your tyrannical regime. You have no power over me, see?

When the Oppressed Victim overthrows the Fascist Dictator, it�s a free for all of decadence and defiance. It�s living in Nero�s Rome.

Bring in the lions!

For the eating disorder afflicted, the psyche is a war zone battled over by two corrupt and opposing factions. Both of which are false, narcissistic, and have absolutely nothing positive to contribute to personal development or to society as a whole. When you have an eating disorder, all you can think about is your weight, your food, and your body. It is the ultimate Me! Me! Me! onetrack mind trip.

In the summer of 2000, I lose down and down and down. I am still overweight but I grow slimmer and slimmer. I can feel the approval glowing from the eyes of my fiends and coworkers.

I think to myself,

See, I am in control. I have discipline. So Angus doesn�t love me anymore? So John cares more about saving his own ass in any situation than he does about me? So my crazy roommate Ronnie could go insane and kill all of us at any second? So I devote every waking second to the smooth functioning of The Stupid Company only to be passed over for promotions and condescended to because I�m a girl? So I am living at poverty level and all of my savings will be dumped in the lap of some rich bastard slum lord? So fucking what! �Don�t bother me none. I am bricks and mortar and steel. I will scrape off this layer of vulnerability, this goopy fatty tender tissue. I will recast myself as an iron beam. I will be invulnerable. FUCK ALL OF YOU.

It is too hard to care about my heart. It is too hard to care about my mind. It is much much easier and far more preferable to focus my laser beam intensity on this bag of bones and flesh. I will sculpt a brand new me . I will fashion art our of psychosis.

I am the ultimate futurist.

It�s all about form baby. Fuck function.

In the summer of 2000, the summer where I do not eat lunch, I spend my noon break sitting on a stoop around the corner from The Stupid Company. As I take baby sips from my diet coke and listen to the same song over and over again on my Walkmin, I ponder the hunger glimmering sharp and bright within me, illuminating my body, beaming from my eye sockets and out through my fingers and toes.

I am starving. I am invincible.

Both the Fascist Dictator and the Oppressed Victim want for nothing now.

Stay tuned for Part the Forty-Fifth...

Ice baby,

I saw your girlfriend and she was

eating her fingers like they're just another meal

but she waits there

in the levee washes

mixin' cocktails with a plastic-tipped cigar

My eyes stick to all the shiny roses

you wear on the protein delta strip

in an abandoned house but i will wait there

i'll be waiting forever...

i'll wait and wait and wait...

Minerals, ice deposits daily, dropped off

the first shiny robe

i've got a lot of things i want to sell, but

not here, babe�

torture...

every time i sit around i find i'm shot

you're my... summer babe

summer babe

Read THE SAGA from

THE VERY BEGINING!

time capsule from heaven - Sunday, Aug. 21, 2011
31 - Saturday, Mar. 15, 2008
Dead/Alive - Monday, Mar. 10, 2008
Do not trustTIAA-CREF-- they are fucking their customers - Friday, Jul. 28, 2006
Shilling - Tuesday, Jul. 11, 2006

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