I'm not dead; I merely encountered the most devastating disease known to humanity: Irukandji syndrome. I writhed in physical agony and moaned heinous expletives: "Sweet Condi Rice-John Maaaayer! I think Albert Camus described my condition in a novel.
On the same night as my plight Marissa Nadler was to invade Toronto and I was to absorb a gloomy hum outta El Mocambo. Turns out, Nadler cancelled the performance ages ago.
Nadler. Nadler. Nadler. Nader. Nader. Nader. Ralph.
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