I have gone into the data, and through the data, and I have emerged on the other side to find … more god damn data! 40k+ rows of dirty, non-normalized, infinite monkeys pounding away on infinite typewriters data. I am just about beat. I am punch-drunk. I am nostalgic. If you could see my playlist right now — oh boy! I call it Coma Pop and it is both awful and compelling, like eating all of the candy after a night of trick-or-treating. “The albatross and the whales … they are my brothers”. “And we’re sinking deeper and deeper in the chilly California sand…” There is truly reason for fear on that night of all nights. I think somebody forgot to x-ray my apples.
Now, back to the blurry names in their swirling little cells. If I’m not back in a few days, send in the dogs.
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