October 11, 2001
An Open Letter To Neal Pollack


i prefer two cocks.
I'm writing this letter primarily because you've spent some time in New York and must be somehow wrapped up in the whole 'Literature By David' thing. And I didn't think it was fair to leave you out just because your name happens to not be David. Anyway, slam poetry, visceral poetry, poetry about cocks and so forth, is far better set to music than simply said out loud not loud very loud on stage by some guy. Soul Coughing, Neal, is going to be the band which makes you not want to do slam poetry anymore. Here I have left some samples for you, and will attempt to contact (all songs and lyrics by) M. Doughty to arrange a meeting. Until then, I hope I have not upset you more than only a little. I'm sure you will find other ways of expressing yourself, and that the giving up of the slam poetry will not be an end, but a new beginning.


November 10, 2003

I read this just now on Neal's Web Site. Of course, I had never actually read anything Neal had written when I decided to make a web page about his writing. I mean, why not? But now I've been to his site, read the first thing I saw there, and well, basically, I guess you could say I've found God, or at least, God on Earth, or at least, that's what he says. And as far as I can tell, why not? The following excerpt:
I am a drug addict.

Before the tour began, I went to see my doctor. I told him I was having trouble connecting to people, and also my knee hurt real bad. He gave me Vicodin for the knee, and capsules of Oxytocin for my connection problem. You may all laugh, because Oxytocin is best known as the hormone that stimulates labor in women. But it's also, these days, widely known to be the "hormone of love." On tour, I needed to give a lot of love.

The Vicodin was great for a few days, but gradually I found myself waking up in a puddle of drool, and it wasn't my own drool. Using every ounce of willpower I possessed, plus really strong coffee, I was able to over come the crushing Vicodin hangover that addicts refer to as "the jackhammer of Hades."

Oxytocin was another story.

My initial two pills a day became four after two days, and eight after four days. By the time I got to Philadelphia, I was refilling my prescription daily by FedEx, taking up to 32 pills before breakfast and nearly 100 every day. Oh, yes, I was feeling the love, but soon I was really just feeling the feeling about feeling the love, not the actual love itself. When my supply ran out in Chicago and I pitched myself from my hotel room window, I realized that I had a problem. Fortunately, I was staying on the second floor, but I wept as I squatted in that shrubbery. And I weep still.
So he's actually pretty funny. Who knew? How could I have? Both "feeling the feeling about feeling the love" and "and it wasn't my own drool" are great. The man is my hero. I needed one and he is going to be it. I think he knows it too. I emailed him and we became fast friends. He says he might let me move in with him someday. Is that cool or what? Isn't the internet great? So now everybody go to Neal Pollack's Web Site and buy his book and get a new friend. If you ask him, he'll send you a signed photograph of himself. Be sure and specify if you want non-naked.

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