Finished Pattern Recognition. While the ending wasn't "satisfying" in terms of an orgasmic semiotic economy (ahahaha, Mama Anarchia), I don't think it's supposed to be. It's like everything rising to the surface, a little too quickly, after you trip some final aspect of your environment by poking around randomly, and the hidden structure of the world reveals itself while you stand there in a daze.
Since beginning Pattern Recognition, my experience of fleeting and yet strangely significant urban vignettes has been heightened. The other morning, the smell of silver aniseed gunshot mints as I got out of the train. A woman's maniacal, toothless cackle.
Was trying to sell the book in to people at work. "Uh, yeah, it's like, a thriller about, um, ambient marketing." Whatever.
I don't think William Gibson actually knows what a render farm is. No matter.
Yesterday, I was Photoshopping half-naked women for a living. Today, I am making pearls change colour.
