081613 #worm While we're here, we might as well smoke. I love the sound of the train we're on. It goes, chuk!-ka-Chuck!, h-uk, h-ChuCK!, a, over and over again. It never gets tired of going that. And what's more, it throws in imperfections. Just when you subdermally start to flinch away from the repetition, it's suddenly non-Euclidean; it violates a principal; it's, as are all events and patterns perceptible and therefore musical to humans, more perfect than perfect; it flies in the face of the compass, the ledger, and the laborious pursuit. Relax.