There was a little desiring machine who had become addicted to love. Her mechanical body was fueled by meaning, which she tirelessly generated by playing out past and future scenarios in her mind. She would jam the repeat button on 80’s pop songs, getting caught in a loop of emotive outpouring and kitschy synth. The tunes were so sincere and absurd that they made all of her particles vibrate and jumble. She felt bodiless and dizzied by an affection on overdrive. She considered becoming a performing machine to give her condition a function, but she realized that her terrible stage fright would interfere with this plan. When she tried to think of alternatives, her mind came up blank. She started to tap her foot to fill the empty space. The tapping latched on to other parts of her body and before she knew it she was swinging, rotating and shaking. Some kind of rhythm had taken hold of her system and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Not that she wanted to. It felt good, being controlled, giving in, getting loose. grooving and being grooved.