After a few straight days of sitting and watching videos, I finally stood up and tried to move around. Can you tell by the emptiness of it all that this is sad hooping? My friend died and I cannot begin to reconcile the definite physicality of her existence in the past with the evanescence of the patterns that represent her in my head. I am less, too, if there is one fewer place where some impression of me exists. I keep writing it in my head and while the words have meaning, the typing of them does not. My belief in connection with other people, tenuous as it has always been, is stretched further than usual today.

This is why I could only watch the movie Wall-e with continual horror. The loss of memory, of data, of the patterns that physically supply meaning, is the loss of... everything.