I went for a pretty long walk yesterday (the sidewalks were so damn icy) and when I got home the snow looked like white-crystallized quicksand. It was flowing down down down into the ground and pumping to the rhythm of the winter birds. It kinda reminded me of the visualizations of music that come with something like Windows Media Player. Each grain of snow — snow as sand, now — was a byte in the frozen landscape of a digital outside. That big mound next to the spare parking spot: PhotoShop or PictureProject. The long, stretched out walls along the streets: Help and Support or maybe the Search function. Gigs worth of snow. I shook my head and looked into the ground underfoot again; it wouldn’t go away. I unlocked the door and got inside before I was swallowed whole into the program (or maybe it’s the “operating system”). I grabbed a half glass of ice water and sat down with 2666. The frost on the windows peered over my shoulder into “The Part About FATE”. Some writer from Detroit was going on at great length about 5 topics: danger, money, food, stars, and usefulness. He was addressing a congregation of Preachers and Believers, and something about it all didn’t feel right. Then again, I was looking from the outside in. The plant looked a whole lot better after a near death experience, but I still fed it some more water. I laid down to gather everything around me I felt good about, it helped. I couldn’t stop thinking of my family. Everything came to a head when I started day-dreaming of indescribable experiences and raw information. I drank more water and counted the minutes until my love came home. It was weird.