Having successfully confronted the past, I closed the laptop and handed it back to Bob, who sealed our deal by offering me a swig of the familiar brown juice in his hip flask. As the juice began to warm my brain I retrieved a cigarette from behind my ear and ignited it with a sulphur preparation (FZ, 'Dummy Up', 1974). Turning to view my reflection in the obsidian walls I was surprised to see the following image slowly appear on my forehead:
Tentatively, I touched it with my forefinger, whereupon it swung open like a door and the noise of 11 bit crows drifted into the room. As I walked through the opening my reflection winked, and whispered, "sonic narcotics, dude!"...
The Digital Diary