As someone who doesn't read poetry regularly, finding out that it's filed under "non-fiction" is quite jarring.

new notebook. new me. same crappy handwriting though.

taking notes on the revolution in nepal and marking the similarities to last year's revolution in bangladesh.

it is finally time for silksong.

my dreams have been very strange lately.

i have now read *roadside picnic* at ages 23, 28, and 31, incidentally, the ages that redrick schuhart is depicted at. what an absurd little coincidence.

it would appear that today is a day for sunshowers.

my sleep has gone to shit again, getting four hours a night if i'm lucky.

if there are any filipino translators reading this, could i please have a translation of *in the claws of brightness*? thanks.

i really do need to read more.

cheap chinese food on a rainy wednesday afternoon can light up a whole week.

finally catching up on some essays i've been meaning to read for quite a while.