Today, I went in for my MRI. Yes, I laid in a metal tube and chanted to keep myself from moving.

What did I chant?

Gyllenhaal. (Jill. En. Hall.) It worked with the rhythm of the machine. I started with Nom Yo Ho Ring Geay Ceow, but it didn't fit with the thumps and buzzes and the sound of, what at first I thought was, a drill, as well as Gyllenhaal did.

When I got out the tech asked me if the machine talked to me. Some people, he said, say that the machine talks to them. I was hurt for a moment, I mean, what did I ever do to that machine? Why isn't it talking to me?

Then I thought this is why I should be having an MRI; I'm clearly insane.

I bet the image of the inside of my skull will be a sign reading "Out of order, we appologize for any inconvience."