i'm pretty sure that, in heaven, after making the long journey up the tunnel with the light at the end, trudging through acres of knee-deep snow through the rolling hills of limbo, you are beckoned and finally greeted inside the pearly gates by the angels with hot milk and raspberry cookies.
(man-lo day memories, of frolicking drunk in the snow, drinking jd by the boat, and coming back inside to "hot milk" and cookies.)
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this is the subset of what goes on in my head that is fortunate enough to make the treacherous journey through the nerves in my neck, arms, and hands, down through my fingertips and onto the keyboard, through the wires, the computer, and the network, across the country on fiber optic lines, finding a permanent home in the electric memory of some server in san francisco.
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