"female jogger tragically drowns in a gigantic cosmopolitan"
"my cafeteria advances"
"big bird, what hast thou wrought?"
"the election-cycle decompression room has been closed due to lack of interest. sincerely, the management"
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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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