I am Jack's complete wasteoid...

I am Jack's disease infested body...


I hate being sick. It blows. This all just goes without saying. Late nights and drinking have reduced my immune system to a lethargic sludge. Now viruses can breed like a pack of runaway rabbits unchecked by my hungover white blood cells.

Like a microcosmic mirror of my own life, my white blood cells decide to eventually stumble forward and kick some ass in a roundabout manner.

Despite my bedraggled state, I will still go to see Lou Barlow on Tuesday. I will still get very drunk there.

And I've decided to go to Europe... eventually...

Neo Citran beckons.