Back when I wrote this song, I identified with nuns since I was single, disconnected from the ways of the world, and practicing mortification of the flesh.
I had 2 books in my tiny apartment, 1. The Rules (Time Tested Secrets for Capturing the Heart of Mr. Right), and 2. Gandhi’s autobiography, which I used as a reference book for self-torture. I liked the idea that inflicting physical discomfort on myself causing could lead to inner strength and reduce emotional suffering. I was constantly inventing creative new forms of mortification, and kept Gandhi nearby for tips and inspiration.
Some forms were rather mild like substituting a vanilla Slim Fast shake, along with a couple bananas and some butter cookies, for lunch. I chose vanilla, bananas, and butter for their pure nature, but ultimately this form of self-torture was too expensive to keep up. Other ideas I have already written about, like submerging my self (head included) in ice cold baths every morning. Sometimes, I would add actual ice, to make the cold water colder, and it would create quite a pain in my head.
I considered draining the blood out of my big toe, which I read about in an Indian book, but in the end that was too scary. I did drink a bunch of Epsom salts, which are supposed to clean your stomach by making you throw up (another Indian idea). But after drinking them I couldn’t bring myself to throw up, so I just sat around feeling nauseated instead. Many of my greatest ideas seemed to come from Indian sources, like putting melted butter in your eyes to give them a sparkle. I don’t know if it made my eyes shinier, but it did make it harder to see.