I bought a box of Nag Champa incense today at a local witchshop and threw it without thought into my bag, right next to my lunch. Five hours later, I unassumingly took a bite of P ‘n’ J saturated with vile—the powerfume soaked through the box and past the sandwich baggie making for one nasty, nasty flavor. The experience was almost as bad as last week when a guy at work gave me Pan Parag Paan Masala, which I thought was, uh, candy or something. I wanted to be polite and adventurous. Huh:

“Whoooooaaaaaaaa… this is… ughhhhh… whoa. Whoa.”
“You don’t have to swallow the juice.”
Swallowing the juice, “What is this?”
“It’s kinda like a mint. It’s not supposed to get you high.”
“What the hell did you give me?”
“Maybe you should spit it out.”
“Uh…”
“Just spit it out.”
“Does it start… tasting better?”
“Meg—spit it out.“

Yeaaaaaah. I got sick. From what I understand, it was basically like chewing tobacco (in spirit, not substance) imported from India. Whoops. Beware of “betelnuts, catechu, lime, cardamon, and flavours”—it’s bad news, trust me.

I’m finally done with my zombie project. It was for school. I go to a Big Ten University. I am a scholar of Dawn of the Dead. Come to me for all your living dead shopping mall Marxist needs. A girl from my group brought slaugherhouse pig brains to our presentation. In theory I should’ve objected to this, but it was either on a plate in front of the room or in the bottom of a trash barrel. I think it went quite well. Methinks I’m on my way.

I’m ill with the original deepsick. No, not the inspiration to write myself out of and into existence—it’s the bronchial infection that kicks the air from me and pumps my hollows full of thick, dripping filth every late autumn. Damn you, November! thus disjointed. I’m delirious coughing choking. Sometimes I stop breathing.

Music for the Infirm: check out Fila Brizillia’s remix of Radiohead’s “Climbing Up the Walls” currently available in mnVibe‘s Top 5 downloads section (scroll a bit—it’s on the righthand side). Very chill. It’s nice to truly hear Thom sing for once, too, and on such an excellent song. The rest of the five d/l’s are decent, as well. …Yes, even the Autechre song—I’ve listened to it several times, now, and I don’t want to break anything or set myself on fire. Wow.

Book News: through its distribution with Alibris.com, The Teaching Emotion is now available for purchase from Barnes & Noble’s Online Site, bn.com. The novel’s being sold from the “Out of Print”/Used section—the books, however, are shipped new. But in an expensive fashion. So I’m there! But it doesn’t matter. Buy from me, it’s cheaper. Consume. Have a look-see, taste of my insides, and be a zombie for your favorite hack(ing) writer.

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