My plans for spending today lazily reading, drawing, and idly sipping fine brown liquor while watching Hurricane Irene get its anticlimax on all over NYC were derailed at around 3:30 this morning when I woke up with sort of a roiling feeling in my stomach that quickly resolved into just a tremendous amount of puking that flared up at hourly intervals until about 1 p.m. A two-hour nap, half a liter of ginger ale, two Carr’s water crackers, and any number of ice chips later, I’m finally feeling less like death, but I also feel eminently cheated out of my Act Of God weekend.
One mild upside might have been the moment at around 4:15 when Irene was hurling with tremendous force outside the bathroom window while I, in concert, was hurling with tremendous force inside it. It was beautiful.
Every Day Forever 
“… Irene was hurling with tremendous force outside the bathroom window while I, in concert, was hurling with tremendous force inside it.”
Poetry.