Making the Matrix

The beat is on. The can hisses as I crack it open, foam dripping down the side. I take a sip, and then light up a cigarette. My fingers find the keys, and I let them move on their own, eyes on the screen.

Ideas form scripts, scripts decompose into lines. Lines become words and statements, conditions and questions, fleshing out the details. Details morph into ideas, and the process starts over. A circle with no end.

My fingers keep hitting the keys, each new stroke counting down the time until sleep will finally get the better of me. A new line, a new function, a new script. Just one more. And then one more. And then one more.

It runs and breaks and If ix it and it breaks and I fix it and tweak and it breaks and I fix it and it works and I tweak it again. I gets bigger and then I whittle it down and then it gets bigger again. New ideas appear and write themselves down and get streamlined and create new ideas.

Hours pass and the sun goes down and the sun comes up again and the eyes become tired and the fingers sluggish and the mind numb. The coffee makes my hands tremble and the sound plays over and over the same record. And still I keep on coding.