Thoughts Upon Disregard

Feling rested I have approached this mixed day with hasty hands grabbing the horns from all three books. The Angus Wilson continues, though without the fervor of even Thursday. I have read another 50 pages of the Kinglsey bio. It is the Fisk which has witnessed a triumph of sorts, however mixed by the stain of its pressing reality. I absaorbed the Algeria section this afternoon, how mortifying this proved after a lengthy 90 minute discussion with Jewish proprieter of a local cafe about travel in Morocco. I have read a few of the genre novels by Khamed about Algeria and still hope to read Horne's definitive text: none of this could prepare me for the scope and scale of this wickeed landill.

That said I have thought a great deal about modernity, about Dreiser for heaven's sake, about the penultimate sequence of Sister Carrie, about whether I should read Middlemarch while abroad, about how excited I remain over this Powrys chap -- you figure I'll guess how to pronounce his name?