I'm at my best in all ways in two types of weather: rain and fog.

My city has been the lucky recipient of a few soul-quenching drenches this season of rain. I keep windows cracked a few centimeters during a downpour. A zen-breathing exchange of highly charged air occurs, reanimating me to the core, bringing with it heightened senses and a clear, focused awareness. Synthesizers sing, controllers manipulate, lcd panels present visions, audio monitors bathe the studio with sonic life inside a world of liquid motion.

Rain is a living entity. Water in movement is a kindred creature. Throw in domicile-shaking thunder, sky blasts of lightning... and I'm home.

02009 has rolled in on a sea of fog. The entirety of San Francisco is covered in dense clouds of vaporous white. Buildings wash away into nothingness, their spires hidden far above.

In fog, I literally feel within a state of creation. Enwrapped, all forms are mutable, all states are in flux.

People emerge from banks of mist, mere outlines of shifting possibility coalescing into someone solid in front of one's eyes. Without visual reference for the spatial cues our ears interpret to position events, sounds are strangely delocalized. Where, exactly, is the crow I hear flying overhead? Am I really within earshot of running water? To whom does that fetching laughter belong?

It's a beautiful way to begin what promises to be a beautiful year.