Berg

I made an attempt to go to work today. I aborted after being stuck ten feet from our house after my neighbor Lance pushed my truck free. I have been reading War and Peace; it is the death of Pierre's father and this scene made quite an impression on me during my first reading, all of Pierre's abstractions and esoterica become grounded, his new legitimacy flits about and decisions are to be made. First, though, he falls asleep.

Conversely, I was reading Victory in my truck as it warmed this a.m. Ricardo's confession to Schomberg crackles with a tropical imperative, a lawlessness steeped in the extremes of the natural. I bid my neighbor thanks and came inside, my thoughts leaned to posturing and I thought of Shalamov.