That was it. The last straw. I've been kicked out of my home. Where to live? Of course! The condemned apartments in that part of town where it always rains! There are only four of them, with a small open-air arboretum in the middle, requisite weeping willow included. Trent Reznor lives on the north side. I'm pretty sure he's alone in there with his various mad-scientist creations and musical instruments. To the south, random party-types smashing up the place all day and all night. On the east side of the building were all the members of A Perfect Circle. The apartment to the west was vacant, but just yucky, so I decided to move in with A Perfect Circle. My room was small, the floor being almost the length of my torso, but I was able to wedge myself in pretty comfortably. At night, during strokes of lightning, odd glowing writing would appear on the walls and ceiling. Though it made me laugh my ass off during the dream, I really can't remember what it said. I didn't sleep too much that night. I was too busy watching the security monitors in my bedroom. Paz is so cute when she's asleep. The next day, it was time for them to record their second album. I decided to grace them with my hot talent and played lead guitar in six of the eight tracks. Following that, we all went over to Trent's place and got drunk.

That's the last time I take the LD50 of caffiene right before bed.