Wrote this journal entry out of thin air while waiting for class. Must've had Naked Lunch in my mind:
"I once went to a spa to have my back hair removed. After a wax the consistency of honey melded hot to my flesh, I asked if I could keep the strips once they were torn away. I envisioned hanging them from my ceiling, reminding me of the fly strips of my youth. They even dangled, twisted, and spindled in my mind's eye; the multiple strands of hair waving in the breeze of the fan like the kicking legs of the caught flies, just going round and around and around."
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