oh, and uncle jack had a heart attack. 90 percent blockage of the heart. we kind of lost touch. he had a black bedroom, blacklight posters, a hole punched through the wall. but he got born again. i have no good idea what that means. i don't want to know. it makes me sad somehow. born again and a blocked heart. laura says and how are you, i'm good, well, melancholy good, no heart block. but who knows with the heart, it's a strange organ, it plays alone. my head is a little blocked, but it may just be the heavy cold, everything around seems slowed, it's the in between holiday slump, the cold slows even the tide, slurry, even the speech, we're in the cosmos speeding through space outward infinitely and we're so sedate, sitting in chairs in orbit with a sick as fuck system engineering the mindless collapse of everything we once knew and once took to heart.