I'm slowly but surely clawing my way back into the land of the living with the relentless determination and singular sense of purpose that can only be found in a recently reanimated corpse on a quest for brains. It's appropriate, because I feel very much like I'd imagine the recently-deceased would feel, and just last week my friend asked me via e-mail, "hey are you dead?"

This was the worst flu I've had in years, and the worst sickness I've had since I got mono (with bonus strep throat and bronchitis) about 5 or 6 years ago, but even knowing that, it's very weird to me to feel so tired and weak and groggy, four days after I last had a fever. My doctor says it's normal to feel this way, though, and I should just accept it and rest until my body says it's okay to go outside and play.

So while I'm not quite ready to go on the cart, I'm not exactly spoiling for a fight with the Black Knight, either. I would probably be able to make a trip to Castle Anthrax, though.

I seem to have come down with some kind of post-PAX flu. It's not the Swine Flu, but I am coughing so much even I have grown tired of saying "my god, it's full of stars."

I can't really focus long enough to write the PAX post I want to write (it's at about 30% completion, I guess) so please allow me to share the proclamation I made before the concert on Saturday night:

I'm not going to lie to you, Marge: it felt pretty awesome to do this, and I think my fellow PAXers had as much fun hearing it as I did delivering it. Woo!

Thanks to spectre4545 for recording and uploading.