A carnival of technology

I have finished. I will never again feel ashamed for any abuse of parentheses or dashes I commit in the future. Even in the final chapter, I found a tiny detail—the ghost shirt—a bit of trivia tossed into the prose that I only recognized by the words hitting a point in the moiré between myself and Pynchon that we both happen to share, this time because I’d just read a Vonnegut novel that used it as a symbol, yet I have no damn clue what it was supposed to mean.

I have finished.