I am here in Clarence, NY, and it feels like I’ve been set adrift on an iceberg of chain stores, food and rest. I’ve only been here since 4pm but have already consumed much spaghetti sauce and ice cream, been to Target and lounged with Lisa in her comfy bedroom. She leaves the space heater on until she can’t stand it and then turns on the fan. I love the way she thinks. I’m typing on Christina’s laptop, and my fingers keep missing the keys — somehow these millimeters of key distance are messing with my mind. Zipper has been following me around the house; she’s an old lady golden retriever, with a white snout and big happy eyes, and she looks so optimistic despite her 12 people-years of life. I’m trying to remember myself at 15, when we got her, and I can’t even recall what I was like. I think I was just a prototype of a conscious human. Either that, or my memory is shot.