I want a giant keyboard for my computer. Huge, with each key the size of my palm and arranged around me like an early 80's synth pop keyboardist. Whilst I do love the latest in word processing technology, I get very little tactile satisfaction from the little tap-tap-tap. There are times when I'm over-full with searing passions, feral thoughts, and sulfurous plumes of uncertainty.

In times of such confusion, the only logical course is to proceed as if I know exactly what I am doing and all is going exactly as planned.

These modern keys do not reciprocate. Every touch, any touch, yields the same result on the page. As it should, I suppose. I shouldn't run around thinking my concerns are vastly different from everyone else's. Quantitatively, perhaps, but not qualitatively.

I've said this before. Somewhere. I don't remember when. Or perhaps I meant to say it and never got around to it. This happens often. I worry about repeating myself when I should worry about never putting something down in the first place. Unsettling, to say the least, to lose a thought. Thoughts are quick, yes. Fleeting, often. But they're not smoke rings. A quick pen can skewer them from the aether and pin them like an insect in a collection; fragile still but far more observable.

Perhaps I can rig up many small bongos and strike them for each symbol. I'll start collecting them now and worry about how to wire it when I have enough.

Until then, I shall have to type quietly on, and endure the pinprick torture of being left unsatisfied.