02.08.01 - 11:47:45

I am the priestess most high of the networked copier, and when the gremlins strike, I invoke the ancient, weaving mysteries and demonstrate to the men of the world (or at least the floor) and to the women of the world (same caveat) the exact place to push upon, and the precise moment, and how - whether to take a light hand, or firm, the brush stroke, the pressure... ...whenever anything goes wrong.

In these small hands, the fate of millions rest. Or at least four, in this corner of the grande mystery of the demon-tech haunted world.

Kudos to anyone who knows the allusion in the last phrase of the last sentence of the last paragraph.

I would like to show you the space I inhabit, the air I breathe, the town spread out beneath me like a miniature in a model railroad, because I think that would say something about. Something about the quality of light, here, something about the tangible weight of this small town, the structure and the woven crossroads and the bowl of hills in the distance fading into the blue blue sky.

It is warm. I feel spring sidling beneath my skin, and teasing a smile from my lips. Somehow, however, I mourn for winter, in its passing. We have not had a -storm- from which we need to dig our way once more into the open, and there is something about the solidarity of such a crisis that makes me giddy and connected. When the weather goes mad, everyone shares some sort of secret, 'gainst the wind, if it's mad enough.

It takes a blizzard to shut us down, and in the pillowed silence everyone again has something in common, something to invoke against the vagaries of the sky, something to bind you together with the stranger on the corner, and the silences, of the silent streets, and the glittering sort of ineffable transformation that happens when our broken down streets and lives are suddenly blanketed in water made light and solid, in eiderdown, in snow like plantinum gilt, shimmering without necessity or concern, like the fallout from a shooting star, like wrapping paper around the world.