this is from an e-mail my grandpa wrote everyone to update them on his health, he has a brain tumor:

"That is where I stand currently and I will need a lot of luck in order not to croak prematurely."

sometimes i feel like a messenger pigeon. gathering and transporting experiences that will inevitably be pooled into a collection of our respective experiences that we have been separately collecting.


sometimes i feel not like that.

what day is it?
i think its the sixth... or the seventh?
i think its the eighth...
okay but like what day is it?
...oh..... i have no idea.