Last night while I was doing the bike riding portion of my workout, I grabbed the issue of Playboy that had the Chuck Palahniuk story "Guts" in it. And I can say without exageration that I almost threw up on the bike. I don't know if its from the bike rididng, or what. But I nearly formed an ocean of left over ziti, stomach bile and swedish fish on the floor of the man room. The images are burned in my head. The sounds. The feel. I am actually getting goosebumps thinking about it 14 hours later as I type this. I understand how peoople got sick on his last book tour, when he read this story.

Palahniuk went away from his near cliche supernatural/physchotic sode explanation. Which was refreshing, I can't wait till his non-fiction book comes out this summer.

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