A Time To Consider

I pushed through the first section of Death of Virgil this evening, lighting an Arturo as I have to stay up late to drive. I am whipped but I appreciated the pervasive theme of darkness in the Broch. The question of waste and regeneration reappears steadily but it was the becalmed dreams and the woolen silence which shields however ephemerally the tempests and privations of waking reality.

I just read in the Guardian that a recent Gallop poll suggests that most Americans don't read. Most who do, read shit and, again, not very often.

I am very indifferent to that at this moment. I am mad as hell that no one at Samizdat appears to give a shit.

The thought of taking Blue of Noon with me this evening is a curious one. There was a mention of it in the Godard (In Praise of Love) I watched Monday night.