Feb 6 2005

Editing a small bird in flight.
Out on maneuvers, fast, mobile, but subject to sudden interruptions. It’s the glass – you could call it transparency. Best to place a mask in front to guard against the fatal kind of impact. If you feel like being kind.
On the other side of it, when you are exposed, a target for projectiles too. Project then, a line of flight.
Fight back the tears, sometimes tears in fabric must be mended later. No time for that right now, sometimes. The trajectory meets tragedy, but the lines have been kept open. Hitting a moving target. When you are hit, how then do you deal with it? Don’t stop, and don’t fall down.
Breathing fast can be OK. Science fiction means it’s magic. Because it’s all about the will and the device, and of course the measurement of use. Is it easy to imagine it? Is the management so difficult that it makes you feel the suspense? – that’s the sexuality of it, responding beating heart and dizziness and nervousness and wanting without thinking very clearly and being just a bit afraid enough to flirt with notions of disaster.
Some may want to stop you, some may wish to slow you down – others like to keep you going and some want you to go faster. There are nodes on the network – check point charlies – and the sound of breaking barriers. There is going into things and getting out of them.
Outer space, the machine marks a trail and takes a seat where none was meant to be before, but now it’s there it will be hard to do without it, and it will need an update soon – you can count on it. Numbers, the hidden thing, you have to get too close for it to work effectively.