2002-07-01 - ?:?? PM

The polychromatic fabric dots danced and wavered and opened up into tunnels, tunnels which led to other dimensions and other worlds. Parallel universes in which I was looking upward out of their ground when I was looking straight towards my ceiling melted out from the yellow ones, and I cried because I could not squeeze through the fabric. The world was tainted yellow and had trees made out of chain link fences, and the other was blue-green and melted around me like a tunnel of thin wax walls on a very hot day. "It's not just a dot," I mumbled, and was imediately engulfed by this new preposition. Then, the dots began to speak.

The world was a television screen that somebody had spilled a liquid on, drops of magnified pixels exploding calmly on solid objects. Everything melted and the world looked like a Van Gough painting in the microwave.

Outside, a giant thumb stuck out of the ground. I decided to let it be.