The Doubt has crept in. shut up, john.
tomorrow i think i'll lay on the beach in labadee by myself. i think i need some alone time. maybe i'll burn a low mp3 disc, bring all tomorrow's parties, and fall asleep on the beach while listening to said disc and reading said book.
all tomorrow's parties turns out to be a sequel to idoru, which in turn is loosely connected to neuromancer, but all tomorrow's parties is more of a sequel to both than just one of them. it brings characters together from the first two (and am i forgetting virtual light? i think i am.), whereas idoru pretty much ignored all of the characters from neuromancer except for a brief mention of one of them. it's interesting to remember characters which i was so attached to years and years ago.
except: i'm still hopelessly in love with cayce pollard. she's the best character he's ever written. she is me, if i were female. she even dresses like me (ideally, and when i have complete control): all black and grey, no logos, plain, yet stylish. i want a rickson's jacket. do they exist?
i'm an analog otaku. i think this every time i do my foy inspections. i have to feel every inch of the foy rig, it is not enough to look at it. i feel every inch of cable, i caress the motors as if i experience lust in doing so. i have to... it's the only way to find defects. yet a i touch and rub, run my hands over, and gently massage every piece of metal in the foy rig. when i finish i'm covered in milspec black grease and flecks of shiny metallic shavings from the sheeves and cable. i smell like rigging and the foy rig. it's as if i've just made love to mecha and the residue of the act is all over my hands and forearms, smudges on my face.
and now it's time for sleep. this was a rambling one. tangents. too many thoughts in my head to quantify as a single, linear, coherent post.
from your place on sunset
it's like starting over