i pray for my uncle who is in hospital now. and for karen, kelvin, and ahyi. i know we can't foresee nor control the things happening around us, or whatever that might occur next. but if a man has the will to live, why should he be denied this right?

i've been pretty antisocial these days. threading on a mill which says increase speed each time i look at it. in the mirror, there's the desk of jerky awkward prose, stacks of papers, and an orange glow. above it tackboard of dutch milkmaid, moma identification, guanyin prayer, grande fete postcard, chinese calendar - my birthday, horizontal invitation, dog looking and listening to a gramophone, tacks. why get out of this? why push me? why suppress my hacking coughs?