Pancreas.

"It was all a dream!" Said Biggie.

But it wasn't!

Which is odd.

So you stay up till 5 having hardcore actual human communication with newfangled technology. Then you get up at ten as a result of more human communication via slightly less newfangled technology, after lounging around in bed half asleep listening to Radio 3 for an hour or so. And you have a weak shower (but a shower nonetheless), the result of old technology, and coffee, with your laptop outside in the sun and the clouds, where you listen to a bunch of beats sent to you via electricity and the air, or something, from Scotland, whilst drawing with a plastic pen on a plastic board directly into said laptop, and doing more of the newfangled communicating.

You go, shit, future. But it is now. And you know that one day they'll take this all away. You know what the bad people are up to. You know social engineering exists, and that's why school was as it was, and that's why the funny boy got stomped and the pretty girl got sick. You know that nothing lasts forever, even cold November rain. But you don't care at all.

Sometimes I don't mind that they're going to turn this earth into wet rock, because I figure, whatever, we will survive, because we do. But that isn't fair on the little green bugs that won't exist. But then maybe we won't either.

But we had a go.

Life finds a way.