Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. My larynx is unaccustomed to so much spouting forth of noisy knowledge, especially recently, so I'm glad that sleep is finally within sight, offering a chance to rest my tired instruments of communication and transportation. Today I felt welcome here at UCLA, where tonight I gave a talk, hosted by Casey Reas, someone I admire very much. Talking about your work is easy, but talking about your ideas is always risky business. It's earnest stuff, and you expose yourself to ridicule, dismissal, scoffing, criticism and dissent. Finding new ideas is like finding buried treasure (but even more difficult), and those new ideas possess a certain personal energy that vibrates intensely inside your head and heart, but which can dissipate so quickly when those same ideas are spoken about too often. With each relaying of revelation, those same epiphanies seem less and less substantial. These days, new things become old things so quickly, and novelty so easily disintegrates into triviality. With new ideas (especially beautiful ones), you want to spread them far and wide like gospel, so all can share the joy, but at the same time you want to keep them private and preserve their beauty so you can do something with them before they become trite. When deciding what to say when I speak, I constantly battle between this dichotomy. Tonight was like opening the flood gates. I think now it's time to start rebuilding the dam.