Paul vomited beside the chair with his eyes closed. Yes, we have this what's the matter But he had known just the same, hadn't he?

He belched, covered his mouth, and looked guiltily at Annie, who went off into another gay gust of laughter. She moved out of his field of vision, heading toward the kitchen again. "AG! . Paul glanced from the newspaper photo to the portrait over the mantel. Geoffrey had been sitting by Ian, who was remembering in a broken, scarcely coherent way how he and Ian had rescued Misery from the palace dungeons of the mad French viscount Leroux, how they had escaped in a wagonload of hay, and how Misery distracted one of the viscounts guards at a critics moment by slipping one gorgeously unclad leg out of the hay and waving it delicately. A horrible moaning sound passed between his closed lips and his hands made light, haphazard drumming sounds on either side of the Royal, but that was all he could do, all the control of his destiny he could seem to take.

This was in white text on a white background (effectively invisible) under an image advertising easy-to-get diplomas.

  mood: Murderous
now playing: Some shitty song on the radio

I fell off the face of the planet. No, really!

While I was floating around in space, I ended up doing a lot of stuff, like having one of the lousiest weeks of the year, visiting Erin, and seeing another Nine Inch Nails show. It's weird how many things you can do in space. It's like... the final frontier! Who knew!

I got this a while ago, and I've finally taken a picture of it. Best fortune ever:

The haiku will probably start again soon. I may discover that I've been writing them all along, but upside-down and backwards in blood under the carpet whilst my other personality had control of me. The personality that doesn't know how to code web pages. In space.

  mood: Like some kind of anti-caesar
now playing: Slipknot - Wait and Bleed