It appears that my sickness has gotten the best of me lately. Catatonic from a full-frontal assault by the renegade Snot army, crippled by the dehydrating-and-possibly-hallucination-inducing sinus medication, I remain but a pulse without any sense of coherent thought. However, this is not to say that my phlegm filled days have been for not, for I have dared venture outside the realm of this germ-infested hell hole to experience fresh air and the sweet smell of Sacramento. It is, to put it simply, vomit inducing. I was graced with the pleasure of seeing Henry Rollins at the Crest Theatre on his Provoked tour (thanks again Michelle), which was as funny as it was interesting. Rollins is a sort of a renaissance man who never seems to get the credit he so richly deserves. If you ever get the chance to see one of his spoken word performances, do indeed take it. You will not be disappointed. I apologize for the short post, as I am still battling my infection demons, armed only with amoxicillin, a cup of hot tea and a smile... OK, that's so not true, I never smile. But you get the idea.
covered in a cloak of silence, I hear you in my head