There was a curious chasm between the land of the living and the feeling of complete unconsciousness. I fell into it. For two utterly insane, ehxilarating hours, I tossed back and forth in what appeared to be my rendition of the nodegel...like quicksand, only sweeter. Yes, I actually appeared to be noding in my sleep.

It was a good thing I was nowhere near a keyboard, because I lay E2 down and had my way with her. I was the perpetrator of utter chaos. I was editing other peoples' nodes. I was adding nodeshells by the dozen. I was called by what seemed to be a higher power to add links to OPEN SOURCE CONCEPT ATE MY BALLS on every writeup that I came across.

I made up words with bizarre definitions. I delved into them deeply, as if mirroring the irony of life in one simple word. The idea that a word could mean extravagant and posh in one context and mean dirty and disheveled in another seemed impossible, but I did it.

I made a defense mechanism metanode, cataloging everything from anger (expressed) to anger (repressed) to withdrawal to nuclear fucking warheads. I tried a little self-justification by noding it's not fat, it's substance that described how skinny people are easily breakable, proven by experiments involving waif-like supermodels and extremely heavy rocks. I showed a little penis envy in noding not only OPEN SOURCE CONCEPT ATE MY BALLS which we had previously mentioned, but also in Everything Assimilated My Balls. I noded the Lament of Ignorance in which I poetically described my frustration at never learning vi because it seemed like too much damn work to open another text editor and I already had a terminal window open.

I woke up at 3:45 in the morning to find myself touch-typing on my stomach as if it were a keyboard, with ideas for new nodes running through my head, trying desperately not to forget the many that I had come up with in my sleep. From now on, I will always keep a pad and pencil by the bed. I have come up with too many good ideas only to get lost in the haze that is semiconsciousness. The morning comes and all I can remember are the superficial nodes that stood out, like OPEN SOURCE CONCEPT ATE MY BALLS (not that I have any balls to eat, or any problems with open source at all) and made-up definitions. The discourses on the nature of humanity and the in-depth criticisms of just about anything are long gone, just a shadow of a memory remains.