Prozac Nation Page #4

Springsteen' like

this garage-mechanic poet.

You can feel the sweat in his voice,

the grime in his guitar.

When he sings, I see steamy streets...

...lovers groping hands...

...busted fenders.

The dirt is under his nails

and the clairvoyance in his eyes.

Jesus, Lizzie,

you haven't slept in days.

I had it perfect before.

I know I can get it back.

His words twist and grind and

hammer out a story for the brain...

...but his guitar and voice go

straight for your heart.

Music bellows from his insides, and

out comes the struggles of the world.

Springsteen'

like this garage-mechanic poet.

Music bellows from his insides.

Out comes the struggles of the world,

of knowledge that comes with perfec...

It' like he feels with knowledge

that goes back through ages...

...to a single chord in our brains.

That beacon that can be touched...

He has the power of pure emotion.

Emotions so intense the body

literally must do something...

- Out comes the struggles...

- F***.

She still hasn't slept.

Lizzie.

Lizzie!

I don't know how to say this

to you, all right...

...but you are starting to smell.

This is important.

Lizzie, it's not as important as

your health. You gotta get some sleep.

Will you just f*** off?

I just have to finish this.

I can get you some downers, okay?

- Yeah?

- Yeah.

Noah? Noah, come on,

give it to me. Noah!

Lizzie, this is just scribbling.

What? What the f***? A**hole!

Stop it. Noah, put her down.

Put her...

Jesus, she turned

into the Harvard bag lady.

- What are you doing?

- She needs something.

- What?

- I don't know, some medical help.

Ruby!

It's okay. I got them, I got them.

It's all right.

Emotions so intense...

Bodies fly into air...

Lizzie. Lizzie, look.

You gotta calm down, okay?

That's not what you said when

I had your dick in my mouth.

You had any drugs

in the last 24 hours?

No.

Well, I guess I snorted some coke

and smoked some pot...

...but that was just to make

the Ecstasy last longer.

Sure you're not forgetting anything?

Maybe a few beers.

Did you ever think you might have

a substance-abuse problem?

The only substance problem I have

is I need you to give me some tranqs...

...so I can come down

off this f***ing coke.

And then what happens?

So you don't like coming here,

and you don't want to talk.

You don't have to.

You don't have to say anything...

...you don't want to say,

but if you don't say anything...

...if you don't talk to me...

...I can't help you.

You know, if you're

gonna suggest therapy, don't.

I'm living proof it doesn't work.

- So, what are you doing here?

- My friends brought me here.

Had nothing to do with you?

Are you gonna give

me something, doctor?

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