Going for the cut today. Fucking terrified. Gabriel’s got a new cutter setup in his basement, painstakingly assembled from gomied landfill and parts bought off a Chinese ebay clone. I’m the guinea pig and I’m shitting it. I can take the pain (morphine analogues nicked from Mum – de nada) but the bit that terrifies me is the damage (de-gloving, shudder) and the nudity. Not just the bare surface exposure, but the denuded lack, the comfort blanket removal that filled me with a lunar dread. No more wazoo bandwidth netlink, no more Shiny Things(TM) one-click consumerism, no more toggle wanks. There’s an upside though: geoloc nixed and going dark, the rasp of newly laundered towel on my back, the snap of snaps, the heft of hand woven broadcloth on my shoulders, the first stubborn tug of denim over my hips. The real skin awaits.