well, this isn't working. laying in this big stupid bed with a bellyfull of venom. & i guess it isn't any surprise that with jenny gone a grand total of two full days, my natural rhythms have reasserted themselves. tear & pull at flesh, vomit & swords, repeat. just one big fucking collision with how much i hate myself. or better said how much i hate being alive. i'm pretty great, i'm pretty much the best there is. all i can do is wander around talking about how much i hate everything! which sure is excitement & adventure, right? sheesh. at least in dnd tonight i was pretty cool. i was swallowed by the scyllian, which would have put the murder on me, except i burst it open with my quaal's feather token, the kind that turns into a tree. the encounters were pretty vicious...everyone in the party except me was dead at some point. anyhow, i'm inventing space orcs, so that fucking rules. but my barren fucking home yawned at me as soon as i stepped in, gaped like a chasm. i spelunked till i didn't feel safe any more, which was my signal that it was bedtime! come upon me oh dangerous angels! but when they do i turn & curl like iron rusting. i shiver to pieces & sit under the water from the shower until i'm warm again. wrists bruised from their feet, where they grasped. i keep thinking about how birds evolved from dinosaurs...but not that much.