I figured out why I wasn’t able to sleep for two days: I was getting sick. Exit sleep, enter snot.
Sleep comes back as my body recovers. I’ve had time to dream, and my dreams are of Apples.
iPods are like scintillating, celestial cables to the 0,1 bitstream of the music of my life, like mainlining the soundtrack to my biography: David Bowie, Stan Bush, Tenacious D, They Might Be Giants. You can spot other users on the street instantly, a glimpse of white lucite here, a rope of pearly headphone cable there, like a secret, hardware handshake.
I wax less poetically but no less admiringly of the Macintosh OS, so simple and perfect and simple. Long live lucite! Long live Apple!
Can I have iPhoto, iCal and iMovie to go with my iTunes? I could have them if I had a Macintosh of my very own. As it is, I have my adequate, utilitarian PC to run my games and to process my words. I have a gray box, but I’d love a work of art.