Linguistic Strip-Mining 2026

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Explanation:

So they basically mean to say that a whole book can feel so big when in reality, it’s those specific sentences, phrases, and words that really hit you in the head and get that imagination fired up and recalling it years later in an imagined scene. They’re just finally writing them down instead of relying on vague impressions from a long time ago that they would have to re-discover through re-reading everything, which wouldn’t really bring it back and be a whole new experience altogether, even as re-reading does ground those remembered impressions back again to those specific syntaxes.
That means even 1.5 million words of a long fantasy series can be turned into 100,000 words of those literary sentence minings. The brain does the rest of the work, but you gave yourself a incredibly precise and comprehensive map than if you had none of those minings in the first place. It’s why summaries don’t work. The brain never latches onto impressions. They latch onto hyper-specifics that stun them for life.

January 9, 2026
Note 1
Being and Time by Martin Heidegger (1927)
unity of analogy vs. multiplicity of the highest generic concepts applicable to things
Being as the most universal concept : remains darkest of all rather than clearest
"Being" being indefinable due to being "supreme universality" (the topmost thing of all?)?
traditional logic
Being of all concepts is self-evident
average kind of intelligibility which demonstrates that this is unintelligible
Being towards entities as entities—in which lies a priori as an enigma
Being-towards-death, Being towards Others, Being towards entities within-the-world
if indeed the "self-indeed" (Kant's "convert judgments of the common reason") is to become the sole explicit and abiding theme for one's analytic—[which is] 'the business of philosophers',
formulating Being
we keep an understanding of the "is" though we are unable to fix conceptually what that "is" signifies
We do not even know the horizon in terms of which that meaning is to be grasped and fixed. But this vague average understanding of Being is still a Fact.
its very indefiniteness is itself a positive phenomenon* which needs to be clarified
What we seek when we inquire into Being is not something entirely unfamiliar, even if at first we cannot grasp it at all.
the most natural and obvious experiences which we have at an uncritical and pre-philosophical level
"non-linguistic, pre-cognitive access" to the meaning of Being
the present as the nodal moment
Whereas Husserl conceived humans as constituted by consciousness, Heidegger countered that consciousness is peripheral to Dasein, which cannot be reduced to consciousness. Consciousness is thus an "effect" rather than a determinant of existence. By shifting the priority from consciousness (psychology) to existence (ontology), Heidegger altered the subsequent direction of phenomenology. 
Dasein as the inquiry as thus related to Being.????????????????????????
both the most basic and the most concrete (??????? how)
...real progress comes not from collecting results...as from inquiring into the ways in which each particular areas is constituted [Grundverfassungen]... by reacting against just such an increase of information.
real movement of the sciences... when their basic concepts undergo a more or less radical revision which is transparent to itself
how far it [science] is capable of a crisis in its basic concepts
"freshly awakened tendencies to put research on new foundations"
Mathematics... seemingly the most rigorous and most firmly constructed of the sciences...crisis in its foundations...controversy between the formalists and intuitionists...securing the primary way of access to what are supposedly the objects of this science.
every such area is itself obtained from the domain of entities themselves, this preliminary research, from which the basic concepts are drawn, signifies nothing else than an interpretation of those entities with regard to their basic state of Being
Such research must run ahead of the positive sciences, and it can. Here the work of Plato and Aristotle is evidence enough. Laying the foundations of the sciences in this way is different in principle from the kind of 'logic' which limps along after... in order to discover its "method". 
The word "method" reminds of Hegel's "anger" at people who spend so much time going crazy over the method.
Laying the foundations, as we have described it, is rather a productive logic—in the sense that it leaps ahead.
???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
Page 31 is the sin of man.
the ontological task of a genealogy of the different possible ways of Being (which is not to be constructed deductively)
derivation / deduction
pg. 33: Why "a" world?
???????
philosophical cognition
We are accustomed to contrasting the "timeless" meaning of propositions with the "temporal" course of propositional assertions. It is also held that there is a "cleavage" between "temporal" entities and the "supra-temporal" eternal, and efforts are made to bridge this over.
Here "temporal" always means simple being [seiend] 'in time'—a desigation, which, admittedly, is still pretty obscure.
 "strong poets", who perform "strong misreadings" of their precursors, and "weak poets"
methodological concept
object of empirical intuition
emanation of something which hides itself in that appearance—an emanation which announces
January 12, 2026
Note 1
# Kolb and Brodie's Medical Clinical Psychiatry (10th ed), first chapter, notes:
genetic inheritance, persistent stresses of life, deficiencies in certain theoretical explanations of behavior that come from a study of man in a particular culture during a given time span
affections, methods of treatments... in the framework of magical and religious practices, rudiments of psychotherapy, malignant invading force, 
the sources of illness within the biosocial organization and development of man
recommendations for kindness and suggestions for the use of physical and recreational activities
sense organs to the  brain, phrenites, the social attitudes of his day, the court appointed a guardian for the accused, 
Galen... rational soul as divided into external and internal parts, 
psychologic biography, 
tripartite soul composed of rational, libidinous, and "spirited" portions, the latter containing various animal qualities
Freud's structural concept of the personality, modern psychodynamic movement initiated by Freud
psychic epidemics, ecstatic visions, study of these epidemics led to some of the earliest conceptions of social factors as causation of mental derangement—the beginning of social psychiatry
Weyer (physician, first psychiatrist?) worked openly against the then current beliefs of supernational possession as the cause of mental *phenomena, gave explanations of the mass psychoses,  described many as arising from symptoms of melancholy arising from love
advised that one might find the pathogenesis of mental phenomena through developing detailed information about the sufferer
Bacon and 17th century philosophers: the functions of "mind" were of concern to the natural order of the universe
At this time, the philosophic interest of Descartes and others in the "mind" and its function established a dualistic explanation of human behavior
mind as "a collective designation for certain functional activities of the organism"
physiological v. integrated response of the organism to the complex physiological, psychological, and sociological forces that impinge upon it
mind is merely one aspect—the psychological aspect—of biological functioning of the organism and not a metaphysical entity having an existence parallel to the body. The dichotomy implied by "mind and body" does not exist in the organism.
modern era (18th and 19th century): revival of interest in the humanitarian care of the mentally ill, Pinel
this revolutionary climate also fostered the first demonstrations of hyponosis by Anton Mesmer
Benjamin Rush encouraged physicians to recognize the importance of their commanding social position, realized that antisocial acts had originated in emotional disturbances, recommended gentleness in contacts with the depressed, firmness with the manic, and attention-getting actions with the distracted. some instances threats were necessary to induce fear for the modification of antisocial behaviors
the modern psychotherapies are based upon a series of hypothetical prepositions and operational tenets lacking in the earlier "moral therapy"
open hospital movement in the 1950s
Kraepelin first comprehensive descriptions of what he believed were entities of mental disease. prior to his time, psychiatric attention had been directed to the symptom, which was regarded as the illness. He searched for physical origins of mental diseases, etiologic, symptomatology, course, and outcome, his classifications not based on an understanding of etiologic factors, including those of psychodynamic processes. little appreciation of the inner life of his patients,
New therapeutic and preventive approaches and hypotheses with powerful heurisitc potentials have emerged.
January 13, 2026
Note 1
# Foucault's The Order of Things, preface to the English translation, notes
in short, it describes the processes and products of the scientific consciousness. But on the other hand, it tries to restore what eluded that consciousness: the influences that affected it, the implicit philosophies that were subjacent to it, the unformulated thematics, the unseen obstacles; it describes the unconscious of science.
archaeological
anonymous body of knowledge
replace the traditional 'X thought that . . .' by a 'it was known that . . .'?
I do not wish to deny the validity of intellectual biographies
wonder... whether they do justice to the immense density of scientific discourse
from the point of view of the formal structures of what they are saying
the historical analysis of scientific discourse should, in the last resort, be subject, not to a theory of the knowing subject, but rather to a theory of discursive practice
# Merleau-Ponty's The Phenomenology of Perception
If the reality of my perception were based solely on the intrinsic coherence of ‘representations’, it ought to be for ever hesitant and, being wrapped up in my conjectures on probabilities.
misleading syntheses
The real is a closely woven fabric. It does not await our judgement before incorporating the most surprising phenomena, or before rejecting the most plausible figments of our imagination.
Perception is not a science of the world, it is not even an act, a deliberate taking up of a position; it is the background from which all acts stand out, and is presupposed by them. 
there is no inner man, man is in the world, and only in the world doeshe know himself.
a subject destined to the world
January 14, 2026
Note 1
Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche (1886)
Every great philosophy so far has been . . . the personal confession of its author and a kind of involuntary and unconscious memoir
psycho-physical
Moralities are . . . merely a sign language of the affects
Answers to the questions about the value of existence . . . may always be considered first of all as the symptoms of certain bodies
symptoms and sign languages which betray the process of physiological prosperity or failure
Our moral judgments and evaluations . . . are only images and fantasies based on a physiological process unknown to us
it is always necessary to draw forth . . . the physiological phenomenon behind the moral predispositions and prejudices
A morality of sympathy is just another expression of physiological overexcitability
Ressentiment — and the morality that grows out of it — he attributes to an “actual physiological cause [Ursache]”
Our thoughts, values, every ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ ‘if’ and ‘but’ grow from us with the same inevitability as fruits borne on the tree
= Absence of good, Wikipedia article
The theory is most closely associated with late antique and medieval Christian thought, especially Augustine of Hippo, who adapted Neoplatonic ideas (notably from Plotinus) and argued that evil is a privation of the goodness that God has created in all things. It was further developed by figures such as Boethius, Pseudo-Dionysius, John of Damascus, and Thomas Aquinas, and later taken up—often in modified forms—by early modern philosophers like Spinoza and Leibniz.
, privationist,
diseases and wounds are privations of bodily health; when health is restored, the evils "altogether cease to exist" rather than moving elsewhere
Boethius: evil is nothing
Todd Calder: pain has a distinctive phenomenology that appears intrinsically bad rather than merely not good
green capacities as conditioned by contemporary evolutions in the form and pace of capital accumulation
green state projects, overproduction
how states are scrambling to govern the intersecting crises of climate catastrophe, economic stagnation, and surplus humanity
trilemma 
the case of the solar photovoltaic boom
{Institute for Creation Research (???????):
robber barons
The Darwinian worldview was critical, not only in influencing the development of Nazism and communism(?)}
a narrow conception of nature perpetuates a capitalist “production bias” that inadequately accounts for the more-than-capitalist relations involved in reconfiguring natures for capitalist value production.
facultative
aesthetic health
Untimely Meditations. The essays shared the orientation of a cultural critique, challenging the developing German culture suggested by Schopenhauer and Wagner.
Nietzsche believed one’s geography dictated one’s philosophy.
He could walk alone for 6-8 hours a day.
sanitary zone for his intellect.
economic engine of his philosophy/ allowances?
pre-personal: Prior to the development of the individual ego.
woven stuff of phenomena
pain has lost its symbolic power
Philosophy is autobiographical
ideas are downstream from experience
Show me a philosopher, and I will show you the physical environment, trauma, or privilege that forced them to invent that philosophy.
January 15, 2026
Note 1
# Merleau-Ponty's Phenomenology of Perception, preface, notes
faculty psychologism    
The world is there before any possible analysis of mine
Thus reflection is carried off by itself and installs itself in an impregnable subjectivity, as yet untouched by being and time
In Idealism (Kant): The necessity of apperception is to prove that "I" control the world. The mind organizes the chaos of reality.
In Existentialism (Merleau-Ponty): The necessity of apperception is to realize that the world holds "me."
it is the ambition to make reflection emulate the unreflective life ofconsciousness.
He flips the traditional logic upside down. He argues that you cannot associate "yellow" and "sour" unless you already have the unity of the "Lemon" to hold them together.
pre-reflectively
Merleau-Ponty is noting a strange feature of human consciousness. When you look at an object, you do not experience it as something created by your brain in that second. You experience it as something that was already there waiting for you.
January 20, 2026
Note 1
The Fixer by Bernard Malamud (1966)
glassy brown river, pasty-faced, barred windows,
rattail hair, parchmented hand, groped his way on in the dark,
rolled his eyes. another bulged his
with his tool sack slung over his shoulder he trudged from street to street
The Jewish quarter swarmed and smelled
low-ceilinged cubicle, in a printer's assistant's flat
a bench covered with a burlap's sack.
smelly feather beds, greenish coppers,
at night in his cubible, a glass of hot tea cupped in his reddened hands, 
popeyed horror, half-starving, 
the gas lamps casting a greenish glow in the snow, 
the trodden snow, 
fattish, bald-headed Russian... his heavy face splotched a whitish red and blue, snow on his mustache
reeked of drink,
A girl wearing a green shawl over a green dress was running crookedly towards them.
with a crippled leg
knelt, brushed the snow from the fat man's face, shook him and said breathlessly 
cracking her knuckles against her breast 
half dragged, half carried 
three-story yellow brick house with a wrought-iron awning above the door
he and the fixer, she hobbling up after them, carried her father up the stairs into a large-roomed, well-furnished flat on the first floor
tile stove in the bathroom
The dog barked shrilly through the door,
her father opened his humid eyes
dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief
unbuttoning her father's overcoat
in a tight high voice from the top of the stairs, quickly hobbled down after him, holding to the banister
twenty-five, slightly built, her torso long, with thick honey-colored hair that she wore loose around the shoulders
not quite looking at him, her eyes lowered, then shifting to a direct glance. She stared at the sack of tools on his shoulder
sweated in his thoughts 
wearing an embroidered peasant blouse and skirt, with two green ribbons plaited into her hair and some strings of yellow glass beads at her throat
loose wadded robe with a fur collar
at a table by a curtained window, a huge book open before him
On the wall behind hung a large chart in the form of a tree showing by way of white printed slots on its thickest black branches the descent of Nicholas II from Adam.
The house was over-heated. dog snarled
rose slowly, an old man with wrinkled, red-rimmed, wet melancholy eyes, and welcomed Yakov without embarassment. 
His throat tightened.
the fat Russian said
offering his soft, pudgy hand
thick gold watchchain hung on his paunch, and his vest was dusty with snuff grains
busied herself with the samovar
indicated a chair for the fixer
said, resuming his seat
March 15, 2026
Fall on Your Knees by Ann-Marie Macdonald (1996)
a collar-and-tie job
sat cross-legged
He selected a volume and lifted its front cover; the spine crackled, sending a shower of red flakes into his lap
copper green, gun gray, seducing seaweed
wet with light
Past a stocky evergreen or two, their spiky scent, beaded sap struck with rain
long pale grasses keeled over in the damp
the rocks that sleep and peep out here and there
Startled by the scarlet mushroom, you might stop and stare. Or bend to feel the purity of the stream
rosewood jewelry box
long black braid, coiling it flat
rubies, diamonds, moonstones and pearls
big two-story white frame house
yellow-haired dog
swelled and peeled and leaked like drenched onion paper
pressed-back wooden chair
a long narrow man with leathery cheeks and black wavy hair
splintering brown eyes
raised his forefinger slightly
prying planks off windows
rose-hip wine, new linen sheets. and the mothbally tartan from his late mother's hope chest, and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
she reached up and stroked the back of his head
To the right of them sank the tepid sun, while to their left the blast furnaces of Dominion Iron and Steel erupted into a new day's work. A light orange snow began to fall.
a painted Roman arch with potted wax ferns
shared a dish of Neapolitann ice cream and melted their initials onto the window
said his name in her soft buzzy way
looked at the loose piano teeth scattered at his feet
girls spilled down the steps in giggling groups or private pairs
His lips brushed her cheek, her hair sweet and strange
salt mist coming off Sydney Harbour crystallized in the fuzz above his lip and alighted on his lashes; he was Aladdin in an orchard dripping diamonds
March 19, 2026
Fall on Your Knees by Ann-Marie Macdonald
cutaway cliffs that curve over narrow rock beaches below, where the silver sea rolls and rolls, flattering the moon
Not many trees, thin grass
colliery, iron tower against a slim pewter sky with cables and supports sloping at forty-five-degree angles to the ground
Railway tracks that stretch only a short distance from the base of a gorgeous high slant of glinting coal, toward an archway in the earth where the tracks slope in and down and disappear
spreading away from the collieries and coal heaps are the peaked roofs of the miners' houses built row on row by the coal company.
An avenue of packed dust and scattered stones that leads out past the edge of town to where the wide, keelong graveyard overlooks the ocean. That sighing sound is the sea.
White, wood frame with the covered veranda.
had her stockings rolled down for housework
armchair... the pale green wingback
a picture of Mercedes, holding her opal rosary, with one finger raised and pressed against her lips
the creek, flowing black and shiny between its narrow banks. And there's the garden on the other side.
creek trickling
a real live soaked and shivering girl rise up from the water and stare straight at us
April 10, 2026
^O^ <!!!!---NOTAS---!!!!> ^O^
Tolstoy's Childhood
Sanger's The history of prostitution
Eastern phoebe - Wikipedia
Massie's Nicholas and Alexandra
Bartram's Travels Through North and South Carolina, Georgia..
Tolstoy's Childhood
through a mist of tears—dim and blurred
but her general appearance escapes me altogether. 
lifting his cap above his head
one or two of the more privileged servants
little piles of coin ["piles" used for "coins"]
These movements always appeared to me an index of Jakoff’s secret thoughts
Not sure whether the movement was meant for a caress or a command, I kissed the large, sinewy hand which rested upon my shoulder.
Mamma [spelling]
Eastern phoebe - Wikipedia
dirty gray
a sharp chip
fee-bee -> phoebe
contrasting wing-bars
The nest is an open cup with a mud base and lined with moss and grass, built in crevice in a rock or man-made site; two to six eggs are laid. 
streamsides
brushy areas
fruits and berries in cooler weather
winter quarters
The increase in trees throughout the Great Plains during the past century due to fire suppression and tree planting facilitated a western range expansion of the eastern phoebe as well as range expansions of many other species of birds.
Adult removing fecal sac(?) of a fledgling
Sanger's The history of prostitution
The researches of science have been unheeded. They have traced the physical results of vice, and have foreshadowed its course. [Erm...!]
contumely
are there seen in legislation, which aims not to dam a wild torrent, but to lead it where its rage may be harmlessly spent. 
When a mighty river overflows its banks, the uncontrollable flood works wide-spread ruin and devastation along its course
puerile
Again: it must be conceded that the demands of propriety are universal. [sir wtf]
They are not restricted to any person or place, but press with equal force upon every member of the community in every possible situation. The common welfare is involved in their general application, and he well merits the good opinion of his fellow-men who points them to a case where propriety is outraged, and asks their aid to apply the remedy. In a word, propriety demands an exposure of all acts of impropriety, and the application of the needful cure. [a buncha prudes, fr?]
prurient
Massie's Nicholas and Alexandra
cortege
move off through streets filled with the slush of an early thaw
bier
hidden choir
Then he set the horses to flying under the walls and domes of the city and across the frozen white landscape.
blazing with diamonds [the use of the term "blazing" for anything other than something fiery or related to light]
Bartram's Travels Through North and South Carolina, Georgia..
magnolia
The islets are high shelly knolls, on the sides of creeks or branches of the river, which wind about and drain off the superabundant waters that cover these meadows during the winter season.
under the shelter of a large live oak
having good reason to dread the subtle attacks of the alligators, who were crowding about my harbour.
excellent haunts for trout
the laughing coots with wings half spread were tripping over the little coves, and hiding themselves in the tufts of grass
water becomes thick and discoloured
Again they rise, their jaws clap together, re-echoing through the deep surrounding forests.
hiding himself in the muddy turbulent waters and sedge on a distant shore
plaited tribes around, witnesses of the horrid combat
roaring terribly and belching floods of water over me
struck their jaws together so close to my ears, as almost to stun me
gunwale
I soon dispatched him by lodging the contents of my gun in his head
I hauled my bark upon the shore
the peninsula and grove, at the difference of about two hundred yards from my encampment, on the land side, were invested by a cypress swamp, covered with water, and above to the marshes surrounding the lagoon... but by either ascending one of the large oaks, or pushing off with my boat.
the clouds of vapour issuing from their wide nostrils
kettle of rice stewing... oil, pepper, and salt... oranges hanging in abundance over my head (a valueable substitute for vinegar)
rekindled my fire for light
the whooping of owls, screaming of bitterns, or the wood-rats running amongst the leaves
as running the gauntles betwixt two rows of Indians armed with knives and firebrands
hay-cocks [???]
the nostrils are large, inflated and prominent at the top, so that the head in the water resembles, at a distance, a great chunk of of wood floating about
He now swells himself by drawing in wind and water through his mouth, which causes a loud sonorous rattling in the throat for near a minute, but it is immediately forced out again through his mouth and nostrils, with a loud noise, brandishing his tail in the air, and the vapour ascending from his nostrils like smoke.
The swamps on the banks and islands of the river are generally three or four feet above the surface of the water, and very level; the timber large and growing thinly, more so than what is observed to be in the swamps below lake George... black rich earth... succulent tender grass, somewhat like young sugarcane... and so spreads itself, by creeping over its surface.
height of fifteen or twenty feet... perfectly straight tapering stem... resembling leaf silver... curiously inscribed with the footsteps of the fallen leaves; and these vestiges are placed in a very regular uniform imbricated order... as if the little column were elegantly carved all over.
perfectly spherical top is formed of very large lobe-sinuate leaves, supported on very long footstalks
sconce candlestick
the bill long, straight, and slender, tapering from its ball to a sharp point
black and glossy as a raven's, covered with feathers so firm and elastic, that they in some degree resemble fish-scales... feathers of a cream color... tail... very long... deep black... tipped with a silver white, and when spread, represents an unfurled fan.
They delight to sit in little peaceable communities, on the dry logs of trees, hanging over the still waters, with their wings and tails expanded... watery mirrour [sic].
page 168
April 11, 2026
16:00:02 – 16:14:00
Floral Life
cellular pasteboard boxes
each plant is securely fastened to the bottom of the box... a wire handle projects through the cover
well-rotted manure
flower-racemes
hanging-baskets
branches are drawn down over the sides of the basket... to cover it completely, the effect... a hanging great ball of bloom.
winds that smite its musical boughs of green
silvery foliage [like] priestly vestments, steel-blue lances, or vibrating cords
heavier, often grotesque scrub and pitch pines...
great whorled branches
smooth clean bark of the young trees
silken sheen
the wind tossed them about... the sun sparkled in many swift changes of silver and steel-blue light among them.
16:22:16 – 23:15:38
Bartram's Travels Through North and South Carolina, Georgia..
a narrow strip of high shelly bank, on the west side
spreading Oak
saved one or two barbecued trout
sultry heats of the day... by stewing them up afresh with the lively juice of Oranges
a brisk cool breeze sprang up
in dreadful peals vibrating through the dark extensive forests, meadows, and lakes
seizing my fusee well-loaded
cool morning dews [using plural dew?] and breezes
composed of varieties of climbing [quite literally, but climbing can also mean rising tall] vegetables, both shrubs and plants, forming perpendicular green walls, with projecting jambs, pilasters, and deep apartments, twenty or thirty feet high
near the insertion of the foot-stalk
lofty [lofty used for the limbs themselves?] limbs of the trees
fruit... pendant from the extremities of the limbs over the water
middling high bank
low sandy testaceous ridge along the river side was but narrow
There being no underwood to prevent the play of breezes from the river, it afforded a desirable retreat from the sun's heat.
spreading Cypress trees
sultry [sultry used for hours] hours of noon
The afternoon being cool and pleasant [in stark contrast to noon], and the trees very lofty on the higher western banks of the river, by keeping near that shore I passed under agreeable shades the remaining part of the day. 
During almost all this day's voyage, the banks of the river on both shores were middling, high, perpendicular, and washed by the brisk current: the shoes were not lined with the green lawns of floating aquatics, and consequently not very commodious resorts or harbours for crocodiles... saw but few, but those were very large.
did not like to lodge on those narrow ridges, infested [of a swamp??] by such dreary [of a swamp?] swamps 
and evening approaching [interesting], I began to be anxious for high land for a camping place... quite dark before I came up to a bluff, which I had in view a long time, over a very extensive point of meadows... landed however at last... at a magnificent forest of Orange groves, Oaks, and Palms.
collected... dry wood
pleasant vista of grass betwixt the grove and the edge of the river bank, which afforded a very convenient, open, airy encamping place, under the protection of some spreading Oaks
a high perpendicular bluff, fronting more than one hundred yards on the river, the earth black, loose, and fertile: it is a composition of river shells, sand, &c. At the back of it from the river, were open Pine forests and savannas.
the monuments of the ancients
strolling in the dark about the groves, I found the surface of the ground very uneven, by means of little mounds and ridges.
taken up my lodging on the border of an ancient burying-ground, containing sepulchres or tumuli of the Yamasees, who were here slain in the Creeks in the last decisive battle, the Creeks having driven them into this point, between the doubling of the river, where few of them escaped the fury of the conquerors.
graves occupied the whole grove, consisting of two or three acres of ground... near thirty of these cemeteries of the dead, nearly of an equal size and form, being oblong, twenty feet in length, ten or twelve feet in width, and three or four feet high, now overgrown with orange trees, live oaks, laurel magnolias, red bays, and other trees and shrubs, composing dark and solemn shades.
continues my voyage... After doubling the point, I passed by swamps and meadows on each side of me.
The river here is something more contracted within perpendicular banks; the land of an excellent quality, fertile, and producing prodigiously large timber and luxuriant herbage.
air continued sultry, and scarcely enough wind to flutter [active!] the leaves on [!] the trees 
amble plains... grassy marshes and green meadows, and affords a prospect almost unlimited, and extremely pleasing. The opposite shore exhibits a sublime contrast; a high bluff bearing magnifcent forests of grand magnolia, glorious palms, fruitful orange groves, live oaks, bays and other trees. This grand elevation continues four or five hundred yards, describing a gentle curve on the river, ornamented by a sublime grove of palms, consisting of many hundreds of trees together; they entirely shade the ground under them.
Above and below the bluff, the grounds gradually descend to the common level swamps on the river: at the back of this eminence open to view expansive green meadows or savannas, in which are to be seen glittering ponds of water, surrounded at a great distance of high open pine forests and hommocks, and islets of oaks and bays projecting into the savannas.
After ranging about these solitary groves and peaceful shades, I re-embarked and continued some miles up the river, between elevated banks [of swamps? though they were all quite low] of the swamps or low lands
when on the East shore, in a capacious cove or winding of the river, were pleasing floating fields of pistia; and in the bottom of the cove opened to view a large creek or branch of the river, which I knew to be the entrance of a beautiful lake, on the banks of which was the farm I was going to visit, and which I designed should be the last extent of my voyage up the river.
About noon the weather became extremely sultry, not a breath of wind stirring, hazy or cloudy, with very heavy distant thunder, which was answered by the crocodiles—sure presage of a storm !
Featherstonhaugh's Excursion Through the Slave States
Canvas-back duck
fine sunny [didn't think to use this to describe weather] weather
the teeth of a column of smoke loaded with sulphuretted hydrogen, proceeding from the pyritical coals of the furnace, which the wind frequently urged upon me
railroad is laid in a very interesting ravine, through which the river  Patapsco flows over its bed, consisting of granite and other primary beds
delighted at being wheeled with the velocity of a locomotive through a singularly picturesque road, where such a variety of primitive rocks presented themselves.
At Marriotsville, 13 miles from Ellicot's, the beds became more fissile, and clay slate occasionally appeared, but gneiss was the general rock; and at Sykesville, four times farther, where we stopped for a short time, I found it contained small but very transparent garnets
after which the country to Fredericton became less uneven, and we passed many well-cultivated farms, a band of limestone running through the district, of which the farmers are beginning to avail themselves as a manure
At Fredericton we got to a tolerably good inn, and here my first care was to overhaul my case of tests.
One large phial of refined alcohol was broken, as well as one flint-glass phial of nitric acid and one of muriatic acid.
The labels were obliterated from the other phials, and all the caoutchouc coverings to the ground stoppers eaten off.
rifle-manufactories... the wheels of which [United States government] were creaking at this early hour
the road passes over a natural terrace of blue compact limestone, with a base of about 200 feet wide at the bottom, tapering up to 20 feet in width at the top.
old uncle of his, who was worth 80,000 dollars, asked him, when he returned from college, what he had learnt there that he could not have learned at the German school. His nephew told him, that, amongst other things, he had learnt that the sun did not go round the world, but that it stood still, and the world went around it. Upon which the old man said, "You dink so, because de beobles at the college tell you so, but I doesn't dink so, pecause I knows petter, and I ought to know petter."
German cattle-feeder... worth 300,000 dolars... hoard their profits in hard money, entertain a great dislike to bank paper, and a still greater to the payment of taxes; and as their lands are continuously increasing in value, are becoming a very opulent community.
Having very little love for their countrymen, the English-talking Americans, they do not sympathize much with their politics; and where a German canditate is opposed to an American, are furious electioneerers.
have it in their power to put the government into the hands of Germans*
footnote: * The dishonourable conduct of the state of Pennsylvania, in relation to the non-payment of its debts, is fairly attributable to the Germans
From hence we proceeded to Mouth Crawford, eight miles, in the neighborhood of which there is a spring water which comes through the sandstone
We were called at half-past three A.M., preparatory to our crossing the Alleghany ridges, on our way to the Warm springs, distant from hence about 56 miles
Jennings' Gap—one of those defiles which penetrate these ridges—12 miles, we came to a clean tavern at the foot of the hills, where we got a comfortable breakfast.
We now left the limestone valley, which we had followed 130 miles, over a succession of beds of limestone and slate, dipping to the east
and passing the Little North Mountain—which is a short of advanced-guard of the sandstone ridge called North Mountain—where the landlord told me coal was found near some springs, we came to the main ridge, and entered it at a passage called Walker's Mountain, which was a mean elevation of about 900 feet.
This summit is perhaps two miles wide; and is divided again into smaller ridges, with depressions, or valleys and hummocks, imperfectly separating them.
The denseness of the woods, the pleasant air, the refreshing cheerfulness of the mountain streams, and the delight at finding myself once more in the Alleghanies, where I had so often wandered, made this a very pleasant day for me.
if I had not been already familiar with the structure of the Alleghany ridges immediately west of the Blue ridge, I should have regretted the limited opportunity now afforded me of forming accurate opinions. The general principles, however, of what was already known to me of the structure and direction of this remarkable elevated belt were confirmed by what I saw around.
The reddish and gray sandstones of the mountains, the slates and shales that alternate with them, the limestones in the valleys, and the general anticlinal structure of the ridges, with their strata dipping in contrary directions on each flank, and often rising again, with their imbedded minerals and fossils, on the opposite side of the valley , sufficiently bespeak the nature of the movement which has raised up these ridges, and left the valleys like furrows between them.
our average pace did not exceed three and a half miles an hour; and the stage-coach stopped so often to water and change horses, that we had an opportunity of walking wherever we pleased—a privilege we were all glad to avail ourselves of.
a young dandy of a rattlesnake, who seemed also to have a geological turn, for he was basking in the mouth of his habitat, a warm reddish sandstone, loaded with fine impressions of spirifers. His skin had a beautiful velvety appearance... so, after making some fight, he gave it up at lenth, and I bore away eight rattles from the gentleman's tail.
where the mountain springs came through freestone, as they call all sandstones
It is always well in the traveller to propound questions of this kind, for the explanations he gives to make them comprehend him set them thinking, and make them more intelligent sources of information to those who succeed him.
the haunch was so wretchedly parboiled, and then put into the oven, which they called roasting, that I was not tempted to take it, more especially as I saw it was a doe, and had not the least fat upon it
We were not alone at this venison feast; a carriage-full of American fashionables from one of the large towns assisted at it, and seemed to relish the wretched stuff surprisingly. They gobbled up and praised the tasteless meat, and the country that produced it, as if nothing better could be imagined: but it is one of the amiable weaknesses of the cockney part of this patriotic people, that when they have read in English books of the estimation in which anything is held in England, they invariably believe that what is good in the Mother Country, from civil liberty down to venison, must be better in America; and so contrive to make themselves as happy with the shadow of things, as English people do with the reality.
More than two-thirds of this distance being on the east side of the ridge, I walked up it at leisure, and certainly it is difficult to do justice, either with the pencil or language, to the magnificent objects that were continually presenting themselves.
Ascending the mountain, a succession of deep precipices and glens presented themselves, environed with dark blue woods and obscure bottoms that no eye could penetrate, the fit habitations of panthers and bears; whilst from the western edge of the summit there was a mighty landscape of the Alleghany ridges one succeeding to the other, almost without number, until the most distant was shadowed out upon the horizon by a pale and misty magnitude, that invested the whole picture with sublimity, and created an impression of grandeur too lofty to be scanned by aught living, save
"The lordly eagle when from craggy throne
He mounts the storm majestic and alone."
With one of the wheels locked, we commenced the descent of the mountain at speed; the driver dashed down as if he were mad.
They rise through the limestone in a marshy piece of ground, partly overflowed by the south fork of Jackson's River, which heads about three miles N.E. up the valley.
Over the main bath a rough octagonal building has been raised, open at the top: the diameter of the bath at the bottom is about thirty-five feet, and the average depth is about five feet.
greatest enjoyment in the world, to any one who, rising with the dawn, has been occupied until noon wading through a burning sun, climbing the rugged mountain's side, hammering rocks, poking his half-willing hand—doubtful of the rattle-snake—into holes after snail shells, and who has had to trudge back with his pockets and hands full of specimens, and with feet and arms equally tired.
where streams of gas go gently creeping over his body, as if little fishes were nibbling at him; where he has ample room to flounder about, and entertains no apprehensions of a cold shock when he jumps in, or of cold air when he jumps out.
Old sick men, young boys, husbands of charming wives, fathers of beautiful daughters, all in the same pickle together, mingling with the most extraordinary looking tobacco-chewing, expectorating, and villainous looking non-descripts
Where are the waters that could undefile a man after coming out of such a polluted liquid?
the albumen of a boiled egg
travertine
toll-house
Vide Frontispiece
helices... in a cleft of the white sandstone at the top of the ridge
pines are scrubby at these summits
and the few deer that remain alive in the vicinity are so worried by the dogs, that their meat is thin and not worth eating. Bears are very seldom seen.
we came to a gradual descent through a very romantic woodland ravine, which lasted eight miles, to Shoemates, where we breakfasted.
From this place to Callahan's, 13 miles, a sort of outlying mountain is crossed, formed of a decomposing sandstone, which is in some places very ferruginous; this rock coheres so little, that at the summit of the hill the sand is quite deep.
vertical ploughing is practised, which creates gulleys and chasms so broad as to lead in many instances to the abandonment of the land
At present, lands in a state of nature, not distant from the main roads, can be obtained at from three to five dollars an acre, when in accessible situations; at greater distances large tracts may be obtained for 50 cents, and even as low as sixpence sterling an acre, the parties in whom the title lies living at a distance, and wishing to sell it at any price rather than pay taxes for what they derive no benefit from.
For a long period the farmers of this part of the country will be obliged to pack all their agricultural productions into the shape of hogs and cattle capable of carrying themselves to market, but there are many things—if managed with prudence and skill—would repay the exertions of active men; fine wools, fat sheep, fat cattle, and even good tobacco, I am persuaded might be raised here.
Any little lawyer or storekeeper in Virginia, by rigging out a dirty old vehicle, and traveling with it at the rate of 25 miles a day, could, we were assured, get in; whilst those who came in the stage-coach only got out, for the sober truth was, that if they would not receive you, there was no other place to go to.
Persons, therefore, of the greatest worth, seeking relief from the waters, and who came in the stage-coach because they would not destroy a good equipage and horses in a long journey of five or six hundred miles, were said to be turned away without ceremony, or directed to farm-houses in the neighborhood, under strong promises to provide quarters for them the next day; and were thus kept de die in diem with renewed promises and lying excuses until their patience was exhausted.
This was a short thick-set fellow, with a filthy black hat hanging on one side of his head, at an angle of about 45°, his garments as unpromising as his beaver, his arms a-kimbo, and his whole appearance vivified with a fierce, cool, and brazen-faced strut, that made a perfect character of him.
In front there was an enchanting view of the Alleghany Mountains, the spurs of which, clothed with noble woods, sometimes projected into the valley, and sometimes ran parallel with the flanks of the mountains, whose beautiful and picturesque serrated summits, sometimes undulating in rounded hummocks, like the Resegone of the mountains of the Lake of Como in the Milanese, and at others presenting acute ridges and peaks, bore every where a rich velvety appearance, from the depth and luxuriance of their forests.
A respectable old lady, stout, and slow in her movements, who inhabited a cabin below us, hearing the tea-bell ring, and hurrying to obey the summons, thought she could get quicker down by going out at the eastern than at the western door; and the poor dear lady was not mistaken in her conjecture, for having reached the steps, she prudently thought she would take hold of the knob of the door and see if it was well-shut; but, unluckily, taking hold of the key instead of the knob, and giving it a jerk, it came out, and she made a regular somerset before she got to the bottom, happily without breaking any limb.
Compulsion Row, a line of cottages made with frames instead of squared logs, the roofs of which were not quite finished.
The parties followed their trunks, came to the buildings, which were ceiled tightly in, with clap boards, the doors were hung, and things looked quite nice outside.
On examining our premises a little more particularly, we were sorry to perceive that the partition-wall, which was common to us and the next cottage, was only carried up part of the way to the roof; all above the line where a ceiling was intended to be placed to divide the lower from the upper room, was entirely open space, except where the rough brick chimney reared itself up in a rather uncomely manner, so that if a quarrel had existed betwixt us and our neighbours, we could have carried on  the water by throwing missiles at each other, with almost as much facility as if there had been no wall at all.
heavy footsteps of several coarse men... by the loud, drawling, unceasing vulgar conversation they got into.
More stupid, disgusting stuff I never listened to, than that which came from these conceited, self-sanctified, canting jackasses, nor in my opinion can anything tend more to suppress true religious feeling than such contemptible trash as they uttered.
They were all democrats too, to a man, which made them quite perfect. 
In the morning were were awoke by their hawking and spitting, and beginning to talk as insipidly and disgustingly as ever.
During the next day, these farthing candles to lighten the Gentiles were exchanged for another set of a different kind, equally low and vulgar, but without their canting. This new company, four in number, with two very small beds to sleep in, were constantly engaged in disputes about bacon—not Bacon, the great philosopher of England, but salt bacon of Virginia. One of them maintained that in "the hull woorld there was no sich bacon as Virginia bacon."
drawn from the class of slave-dealers and land-speculators.
who can afford to leave their plantations, to fly to the salubrious air of the mountains, where they usually remain from July until the first frosts set in in October.
The expense of erecting each of these cabins, not exceeding 200 dollars, was to be defrayed by the person for whom it was built, the privilege being reserved to him and his family of occupying it whenever he or they came in preference to any body else, he being bound to leave the key with the proprietor when he went away, who had then the right to put other persons into it.
FoYK
descending in soft arcs to the sandy shore below
glorious sunlight pouring through the open window, bathing the crip in a dazzle of dust sprites.
a rabble of dolls
Buster Brown haircuts
Her skin is peaches and cream and honey, she looks to have been kissed by the sun even in winter She has lips like Rose Red, and an adorable little bump that appears in her forehead when she is perturbed. Frances has told her it is a horn that will soon grow out through the skin.
Today Lily is dolled up in a frilly knee-length dress of light green taffeta with a crinoline
a gleaming crown of french braids scraped so tight by Mercedes that the corners of her eyes are slightly stretched
"Honest, Lilym you were adopted. We just found you in the garbage one day. You had potato peelings stuck all over you."
Frances... wiry girl... white as a sheet... Except for the freckle on her Roman nose. And except for when she is laughing, or thinking up something really good. Then the bits of green glass in her hazel eyes light up, her nose goes pink and a little white stripe appears across its bridge. Lily watches Frances's nose as a sailor might watch for a lighthouse beam. When the stripe appears, it means Frances is about to go overboard.
dark blond curls
obliterated by a riot of rust and brassy browns
cruddy rag thing, and twines a finger round a stray coil of hair.
light brown braids are decently folded into a bun at the back of her neck.
blue serge skirt
slim girl who is scrupulous about her posture. Mercedes is twelve going on forty.
emerges into the hallway and dances the highland fling, the iron brace on her left leg swinging like a shilelagh
dances on, high kicking into Offenbach, singing in a Scottish accent
Lily has collapsed at the bottom of the attic stairs, beside herself with giggles, trying not to pee; Mercedes starts to succumb on spite of herself—-                   
Massie's Nicholas and Alexandra
two ribbons of troops
their curved sabers banging against their soft black boots
gold braid and crimson sashes with jeweled medals sparkling on their chests
red knee breeches and white silk stockings
bold-embroidered uniforms
reined his horse with his left hand only. His right hand was raised to his visor in a fixed salute.
clusters of horsemen, the Russian grand dukes and the foreign princes. Then came the sound of carriage wheels, mingled with the clatter of hoofs.
a wooden grandstand had been built to hold guests who could not squeeze inside the cathedral
a single strand of pink pearls
luminous frescoes
Romaic Beauties and Trojan Humbugs
another coat of dark mist-colour
tottering pedestals
Its rosy hand and entangling fingers are stretched out
a breezy day is overspread with the waving corn
growling to Chaneh-Kalessi, with a formidable bill for roast beef and Burton ales in his pocket, and a reticule stowed full of six-kreutzer pieces
he kissed their chubby cheeks in the cabin doorway when the parting bell for visitors rung
foam-white eyelids
a richly double-gilt saddlecloth
the whole collection of single-gilt saddlecloths at nine hundred piastres
fimbricated sashes and striped apparel
lamp-trimmers
hung down long tassels of golden threads or gilded tinsels, four or five feet long... melted her crown into long golden stalactites
heat-drooped flowers
garlicked and repugnantly dirty heads
whose oleaginous lips have been kissed by every ragamuffin within twenty miles round twice a week for the last twenty years
swarm of workers
buffet stools
pinching out his cigarette between his fingers, and snubbing unwittingly the proffered wine jug
peplos-robed vestals foot it
the piper slackens for very want of breath, and gradually follows a certain tune again
burnt-out sheet of newspaper
The barking of fierce dogs drowned the peculiar tones of the Oracle this time
a flask of fine gunpowder
four white-nosed sisters
floor-bedaubed hands
wide-trowsered
scented pipe
Fatmeh dropped from her chubbiest of fingers the white infidel sugar into the boiling beverage
until we had quaffed, or rather quietly engulfed, the fluid
palm-boughed
dismally thick and clotted ink
jargonelle-pear-shaped faces
half-filled sacks of lentils tied hirsutely round the middle
twenty feet of black deadened roots below
black morass
tarry, scabby, tail-knotted camels
a robed seat
long lashes pressed untwinedly together, and powdered over with fine gold dust richly glittering
takes his cross-legged seat upon an especially laid piece of carpet
the sun in transit
The taller youths struggle in their well-oiled skins.
In the city, too, are book bazaars
wareladen camels
In these ovens they bake their sandy bread, and simmer their unsieved goat's milk.
Busts of Hellenic heroes, but no two of the same name with similar features, presided over every library shelf.
revivified Gothics, Roman villas, Italian lodges, Chinese temples, and Alpine cottages.
homemade red scented wood
generally hangs a coloured tri-cornered shawl
grassy plot where the unkempt horses and asses can graze
Behind their camp are the high hills and the towering pines and firs and larches, and beneath again, just over their fenced goat-pens, lies always a hurrying streamlet of water, eternally acknowledging in its pretty murmurings, summer and winter, to the rewhispering bushes, how beautiful a scenery these children of Nature have chosen.
Bombazine bag-breeches, fierze jacket, woven fez, horizontally-ribbed stockings, and puckered omentum-like hide sandals
The dresses which they half-wear on the half-trail, are all home-spun, and wondrously complicated with see-saw ribbons of wool, and maudlin selvages of coloured worsteds
On, on they go, the by-and-by loosening hair dancing about in curls to the same tunes, like boats at anchor in a rough sea; a sea, too, ever and anon perplexingly displaying its gulfs and bays upon their jocund persons.
besprinkled with sawdust
besmeared with smithy soot
blear-eyed
short thickset grass of a curragh
wind-waved and flexible tops of a bank of divers growthed rushes
A hundred semi-draperied little children, chiefly girls, screaming, shouting and romping tumultuate, with the gesticulations of a troop of opera dancers round about a frigid youth, with a black board, or a Turkish hornbook in his hand, is a picture that will truthfully suggest an Osmanli village school.
Bartram's Travels Through North and South Carolina, Georgia..
shady oak
high forests behind me bent to the blast
deep swamps
the sturdy limbs of the trees cracked
their [great live oaks] limbs lying scattered over the ground
to dry my books and specimens of plants
This tepid water has a most disagreeable smell, much like bilge-water, or the washings of a gun-barrel, and is smelt at a great distance.
pearly clouds in the clear cerulean waters in the bason
this vast fountation [bason]
Spanish curlews driving to and fro, turning and tacking about, high up in the air,  when by their various evolutions in the different and opposite currents of the wind high in the clouds, their silvery white plumage gleams and sparkles like the brightest crystal, reflecting the sun-beams that dart upon them between the dark clouds.
ruff or tippet of long soft feathers, like a collar, bearing on his breast
sylvan pilgrimage
tuneful warblings of the nonpareil, with the more sprightly and elevated strains of the blue linnet and golden icterus
My situation high and airy: a brisk and cool breeze steadily and incessantly passing over the clear waters of the lake, and fluttering over me through the surrounding groves, wings its way to the moon-light savannas, while I repose on my sweet and healthy couch of the soft tillandsia usnea-adscites, and the latter gloomy and still hours of night pass rapidly away as it were in a moment.
how the dew-drops twinkle and play upon the sight, trembling on the tips of the lucid, green savanna, sparkling as the gem that flames on the turban of the eastern prince. See the pearly tears rolling off the buds of the expanding Granadilla; behold the azure fields of cerulean Ixca! what can equal the rich golden flowers of the Canna lutea, which ornament the banks of yon serpentine rivulet, meandering over the meadows; the almost endless varieties of the gay Phlox, that enamel the swelling green banks, associated with the purple Verbena corymbosa, Viola, pearly Gnaphalium, and silvery Perdicium?
blessed unviolated spot of earth, rising from the limpid waters of the lake: its fragrant groves and blooming lawns invested and protected by encircling ranks of the Yucca gloriosa
perspiring their mingled odours
A brisk wind arising from the lake drove away the clouds of mosquitoes into the thickets.
I hung the remainder of my broiled fish on the snags of some shrubs over my head.
When quite awake, I started at the heavy tread of some animal; the dry limbs of trees upon the ground crack under his feet, the close shrubby thickets part and bend under him as he rushes off.
I rekindle my sleepy fire; lay in contact the exfoliated smoking brands clamp with the dew of heaven.
The bright flame ascends and illuminates the ground and groves around me.
When looking up, I found my fish carried off, though I had thought them safe on the shrubs, just over my head; but their scent, carried to a great distance by the damp nocturnal breezes, I suppose were too powerful attractions to resist.
I entered this pellucid stream, sailing over the heads of innumerable squadrons of fish, which, although many feet deep in the water, were distinctly to be seen.
As I approached the distant high forest on the main, the river widened, floating fields of the green Pistia surrounded me, the rapid stream winding through them.
A vast bason or little lake of crystal waters, half encircled by swelling hills, clad with Orange and other odoriferous Illicium groves, the towering Magnolia, itself a grove, and the exalted Palm, as if conscious of their transcendent glories, tossed about their lofty heads, painting, with mutable shades, the green floating fields beneath.
The social prattling coot enrobed in blue, and the squeeing water-hen, with wings half expanded, tripped after each other, over the watery mirrour.
Featherstonhaugh's Excursion Through the Slave States
subterranean furnace, with dirt and offal of every sort thrown upon the floor, whilst human beings are obscurely seen, some of them standing at the great fires and others running about as if they were so many Cyclops
clinking of knives and forks, the rattling [never seen this used for plates] of plates
oyster-cellar
The ascent commenced by a very rough slope, and a small ridge leading to the base of the main peak: its inclination in many places was near 60°, and every part of the soil and herbage was so glossy and slippery, as well as the soles of our boots, that we were continually falling, and could never have got up without the aid of the branches and twigs that we held on by.
distance destroys the beauties of its details
dry brooks
deep gloomy dell beneath us
Afraid of getting entangled in the dell beneath us, we retraced part of our steps, until we reached a point from which we could process on a horizontal line along the mountain side, until we regained that by which we ascended.
The thorny Robinia pseudo-acacia abounded so much that my clothes were torn to tatters
I soon perceived an unusual dampness in the air, which bore the smell of water, and following a small dry brook some distance, we, to our great joy, found a spring of delicious water.
We had been incessantly in motion for 11 hours.
But the most active causes, which perhaps concur with the waters to the restoration of health, are the journey to the mountains, the exchange of a low infected atmosphere for the invigorating air of a salubrious region, the fine exercise enjoyed in the hills, and a relief from the cares of business.
I mounted the top, and my son wisely preferred walking the whole 18 miles, for a cold bleak fog covered the Alleghany mountain
This ample valley is most agreeably diversified with hummocks, spurs, and knobs jutting out from the mountains, all of them well wooded, and interspersed with numerous sequestered coves and wild-looking little vales which separate them.
we came to an enterprising settler's called Crow, who keeps a tolerably clean tavern, and here a small stream, in front of his house, runs on the limestone.
Three miles from this place, and four from the Sweet Springs, the country opens, the mountains recede, luxuriant crops of corn are seen growing on the fertile bottom-land, through which the stream flows that takes its rise at the Sweet Springs; indeed all the adjacent country possesses a great deal of beauty, which is increased by a lofty and very graceful knoll that rises immediately south of the springs.
The cabins of the establishment, though by no means as good as they might be, were rurally dispersed over the foot of the slope, and numerous single umbrageous oak-trees served as a shade from the hot beams of the sun
a cabin... old and rude... roomy and water-tight... no disagreeable neighbours.
petrified mosses, the fretted appearance of which is caused by the spray of the cascade
When this valley was formed, the stream probably passed over a gentle rapid, which, breaking the water, would cause the deposit
with innumerable weather-worn remains of old stalactites
whilst the body of the escarpment resembled in every particular the recent one at the cascade, abounding in large moulds of calcareous matter, which had formed enclosed logs and branches of trees
I have repeatedly found bouldered fragments of them on their tops
our feet, which were somewhat bruised and chafed
After breakfast we ascended Caldwell's Mountain, another eminence which separated us from the valley in which the town of Fincastle is built, and which is a continuation of the great limestone valley running west from Harper's-ferry: in the ferruginous slaty sandstones towards the top, we found large elliptical nodules of ironstone embedded in concentric circles, some of which were three feet long and twelve inches broad.
summer-leaved trees
plantation with a very respectable mansion-house, surrounded with a stout limestone wall.
in the early grey of the morning
April 12, 2026
23:56:00
Pronounced carefully, wrapping her lips around the word
Shimmery wares
Sun-baked tiles on the gabled roof
His top hat was silk
Soil under his feet and between her toes
Topped with a long, sloping roof
Broad, dark face
Sleeves on her long Calico summer dress were pushed up above her elbows
Old leathery burn marks on the brown skin of her mother's arms from her many years as a cool, from boiling kettles and the big smoky fireplace and sizzling skillets.
Prepare their evening meal of ground cornmeal and their ratio of bacon
Pinch of lard
Own patch garden
Coppery brown, small framed,
Wild mane of springy black hair
Swept into the cookhouse
The silk of her pale green visiting dress rustling
Heavily corseted build
Feet were nestled in black high-top shoes with leather-covered buttons.
Stood to her full height, the butter paddle still in her hands
Fly buzzed sluggishly toward the open doorway.
Slapped her hard with her green-gloved hand across the right side of her face, fingers spread wide
She said, her voice wavering slightly.
Wheeled around
A single plump year stood perched on the high ridge of Suzette's cheek
With her broad thumb pushed the wetness away, leaving a thin trace of white flour in its place
April 14, 2026
00:03:00
Lincoln by Gore Vidal (1984)
Puff of unresonated cold steam filled the space between the congressman and the Negro driver on his high seat
Unslaked fury
White teeth were quickly bared and unbared in the black, cold-puckered face
Buttoned up his overcoat and stepped carefully onto the frozen mud that was 
01:38:00
Lincoln by Gore Vidal (1984)
Fluffed up his beard
Porters were slouched near the sidings.
Huge carts stood ready to be filled with Northern merchandise to be exchanged - for Southern tobacco, raw cotton, food.  
15:06:35 – 15:10:10
Savage Grace by Natalie Robins & Steven M. L. Aronson
The squalor of Brixton is alleviated only by a colorful market where anything can be purchased, from exotic fruits and vegetables to such old cockney delicacies as jellied eels.
The van, turning down a narrow, two-lane road lined with soot-stained brick buildings, proceeded through an open gate.
a barbed-wire courtyard patrolled by guard dogs
four-story Victorian-style buildings that loomed in front ofs him looked like a cross between a factory and a low-income housing
a meeting room that you came into, with little booths
two little booths with plate-glass windows and a little telephone
huge gray rocks, the sea that glistened
wonderful rows of fishermen's houses going up and up, and a wonderful golden church with a wonderful light coming through
the madding crowd
enormous great semicircle of mountains where Barbara and Tony were living in Mallorca that's like an amphitheater
decollete
a violent Irish streak
the most ordinary termination of this wild life
people who are nervously upset or mentally upset can write with such clear writing, a very clear steady hand, and say such logical things
drew several pages of frankly psychotic content
shepharding a black painter by the name of Beaford Delaney, a very good painter—a friend of Georgia O'Keeffe and Henry Miller and Jimmy Baldwin
Beauford was so old that he sat down at Brook's table.
grande geste
a flash of tihs old Tony from Ansedonia—of happy days
And he brought a comb out of his pocket and he was bending the teeth of the comb
Then he gave me a fish, a painting of his... I like this fish very much—it has very good color.
esoteric facade
charted this big yacht
he wrote a novella that telescoped them into the future—he had the son kill the mother in the end!
bored rigid
a cold gray windy rainy day
has sent me books three times
was escorted into the courtroom by an an alderman and a sheriff of the City of London, both in violet robes. The judge's robe was red—indeed, he is known as the Red Judge and adorned with slate-colored skilk trimmings.
Over the robe he wore a black stole fastened with a wide, black belt; over the stole, slung across his right shoulder, he wore a scarlet band.
His neckwear consisted of a starched wing collar and two plain white bands hanging down in front.
On his head was the English judicial headdress—a wig, abbreviated from the reign of Charles II to one with a single vertical curl at the back and two short rows hanging down behind.
In his hands he carried white gloves and a folded square of black silk known as the Black Cap—a relic from the days when it was placed on his wig as he passed the death sentence.
Three sharp knocks on the door of the judge's dais signaled the black-robed usher to open the court with the proclamation
The counsel representing the Crown wore a long silk gown, long-cuffed black tailcoat, and a wastecoat with flaps to the pockets.
garbed in the traditional Tudor gown.
To the left of the barristers sat the wigged and gowned clerks of the court
trial... held during the summer months, according to ancient custom, sweet-smelling English garden flowers had been strewn [the use of strewn here not as "strewn with" but "had been strewn on] on the bench and the ledge of the dock.
barrister-writer
April 16, 2026
09:19:48
Bird-bolts: Shots on the Wing by Francis Tiffany (1882)
the late sluggish pool is a rippling, laughing sheet of water
18:51:08
Once I Was a Princess by Jacqueline Pascarl-Gillespie
dotted with lone ghost gum trees
April 18, 2026
13:47:54 – 17:31:38
Spelling? Might be useful for immersion.
The English Huswife
spelling shit:
dyet (diet)
cookt (cooked)
Neighbour-hood (Neighborhood)
Hous-wife (Housewife)
physicall (physical)
wholsome (wholesome)
evill (evil)
confesse (confess)
Countesse (countess)
goodnesse (goodness)
sicknesse (sickness)
feavers (plural: fevers), fever (singular: fever)
Agues
dayly (daily)
dayes (days)
receit (receipt)
painfull (painful)
surpasse (surpass)
figne (sign)
oyles (oils)
waft, wafte (waste)
stomack (stomach)
Spinnage (Spinach)
puffin (purslane)
lettice (lettuce)
julip (julep)
ague sore
pultic (poultice)
jaundies (jaundice)
cloaths (clothes)
succory (chicory)
syrop (syrup)
searst (searsed)
bice and chaw (bite and chew)
tasseld (tasseled)
wrapt (wrapped)
plaister (plaster)
fetherfew (feverfew)
maleflot (madeflot)
sabious (sabiosa)
tanste (tansy)
fteaine (stain)
smalledge (smallage)
burrage (borage)
Camomil (Chamomile)
juyce (juice)
palsie (palsy)
bettony (betony)
carraway (caraway)
coorsly (coarsely)
Licoras (Licorice)
Asterton (Aster)
feldome (seldom)
tooth-ach (tooth ache)
daisie (daisy)
calamus aromaticus (acorus calamus; sweet flag)
stiffe (stiff)
clouts (clothes)
imbroydery (embroidery)
housleek (Houseleek)
flats / pleagants (pledgets; an early form of a compress or poultice)
affodill (Asphodel, Asphodelus)
Mirrhe (Myrrh)
allom (alum)
hony (honey)
mous-ear
King's-evill (King's evil)
Red Dock (Rumex crispus)
rew (rue)
alablaster (alabaster)
Oyle Olive (olive oil)
megrim (migraine)
Roach-allome (Roche Alum, rock alum)
venome (venom)
thme (thyme)
Comine, cumine (cumin)
serrindge (syringe)
celladines (celandine)
annoynt (anoint)
Copperas (ferrous sulfate)
Gyneper (Juniper)
limbeck (alembic)
annise (anise)
pease (peas) [but apparently singular too?? ? ? ? ??? ?]
sandragon (sangdragon)
tussia (tussilago; coltsfoot)
hil-wort (hillwort)
euface (Eufraise, Eyebright)
isop, hysop (hyssop)
smoak (smoke)
rayfins (raisins)
gumme arabick (gum arabic)
cynamon (cinnamon)
Horse mint (horsemint, beebalms)
Calamint (Calamintha)
Sperma Cati (spermaceti)
brokelhemp (Hemp Agrimony, brookhemp)
regular notes:
let him try if he can force himself to sweat
the juice of Lemons well mixed and symbolized (blended/harmonized) together
woolen clothes
a Syringe squirted up into the patients nostrils, which will purge and clear his head exceedingly
make the passion of the Frenzy forsake him
very clean coarse cloth
mix all these together, and keep them in a paper in your pocket, and even in the day time when the cough offendeth you, take as much of this dredge as you can hold between your thumb and fingers, and eat it, and it will give you ease to your grief: and in the night when the cough taketh you, take of the juice of Lycoras, as much as two good barley corns, and let it melt in your mouth, and it will give you ease.
during the wane of the moon, or when she is in the sign Virgo, eat the berries of the herb Asterton, or bear the herbs about him next to his bare skin, it is likely he shall find much ease, and fall very seldom, though this medicine be somewhat doubtful.
For the falling evil; take, if it be a man, a female mole; if a woman, a male mole, and take them in March, or else April, when they go to the Buck; then dry it in an oven, and make powder of it whole as you take it out of the earth, then give the sick person of the powder to drink evening and morning for nine or ten days together
sweet earthen pot
dig a deep hole in a horse dunghill, and set it therein, and cover it with the dung, and so let it remain for a fortnight, and then take it out and clear out the oil which will come of it, and drop it into the imperfect ear, or both, if both be imperfect.
To stay the flux of the Rhume, take Sage and dry it before the fire, and rub it to powder, then take bay salt and dry it, and beat it to powder, and take a Nutmeg and grate it, and mix them altogether, and put them in a long linnen bag, then heat it upon a tile stone, and lay it to the nape of the neck.
For a stinking breath, take Oak buds when they are new budded out, and distill them, then let the party grieved nine mornings, and nine evenings, drink of it; then forbear a while, and after take it agian.
quantity of half a nut-shell full of bay-salt, and strew it amongst the roots, and then when they are very well beaten, strain them through a clean cloth; then grate some Calamus Aromaticus, and mix it good and stiff with the juice of the roots, and when you have done so, put it into a quill, and snuff it up into your nose, and you shall find ease.
of the bigness of your cheek
quilt it in a manner of a coarse embroidery
chafing dish of coals [?????]
pearle (cataract, or any opaque film or cloudiness)
sleight stone
if you would not be drunk, take the powder of Betony and Coleworts mixed together; and eat it every morning fasting, as much as will lie upon a sixe pence, and it will preserve a man from drunkenness.
To quicken a man's wits, spirit, and memory; let him take Landebeef, which is gatered in June or July
King's evil (scrofula)
Take the leaves of Agrimony, and boil them in hony, till it be thick like a plaster, and then apply it to the wound of the head warm.
Take a table-napkin, or any linen cloth, and wet it in cold water, and when you go to bed apply it to the swelling, and lie upright; thus do three or four times in a night, till this swelling waste [go the fuck away]
saucer of strong vinegar
rub them soundly [soundly?? tf is this]: but not to leed (correction: bleed)
to draw teeth without iron
Take some of the green of the elder-tree, or the apples of Oak trees, and with either of these rub thy teeth and gums, and it will loosen them so, as you may take them out.
Take the juice of Lovage, and drop it into the ear, and it will cure any venom, and kill any worm, ear-wig, or other vermin.
pottle
Take red nettles and burn them to powder; then add as much of the powder of Pepper, and mix them very well together and snuff; thereof up into the nose, and thus do divers times a day.
it will ease any canker or Ulcer, and cleanse any wound; it is best to be made at Midsummer.
bray ("(of a donkey or mule) utter a bray"; "speak or laugh loudly and harshly")
bray (grind/powder)
sovereign (sure/excellent)
scum off the filth
a sweet vessel
ingredients:
Dragon water
Vinegar
Egg
Rose-water
sorrel
Spinach
purslane
"cold herbs"
violet leaves
lettuce
almond milk
"wholsome" beer or ale
lemon slice, juice of lemons 
mithridate
posset-ale
"a few bruised" aniseeds ("and that will bring sweat upon him")
endive
chicory water
syrup of Violets
conserve of barberries
strawberry leaves
french mallows
"suppository made of" honey, boiled to the height of hardness, which you shall know by cooling a drop thereof
"hot spices"
ivory finely powdered and sifted through a sieve
yolk, honey, 
herb of grace chopt "exceeding small"
wheat flower
plaster of Milelot (aka sweet clover)
feverfew, madeflot, sabiosa, mugwort
yarrow
tansy
sage
rue
brier leaves
elder leaves
a quart of white wine
little Ginger
treacle
smallage
wormwood
olive
milk
borage
langdebeef (bristly oxtongue)
calamint
hart's-tongue
red mint
marigolds
saffron
sugar
linseed (flax)
Chamomile
"Womans milk"
wine vinegar
rose-cake
nutmegs, grated to powder
juice of beets
poppy seed (beaten also to powder, till it be a thick salve, and then bind it to the temples of the head, and it will soon cause the party to sleep, and let it lie on not above four hours)
agnus castus (chaste tree)
broom wort
dried camomile
ivy juice
rose oil
half a pint of the decoction of Lavender
powder of... mingled well with clarified honey
betony
Caraway seeds
Chervil dried
Hounds tongue
pepper finely beaten 
sugar candy coarsely beaten
ounce of Licorice finely pared and trimmed and cut into very little small slices
half an ounce of
aniseeds
coriander seeds
berries of the herb aster
gray Eel with a whitebelly
bay salt
Oak buds
marjoram
antimony
malmsey 
daisy roots
quantity of half a nut-shell full of bay-salt
houseleek
asphodel
myrrh
alum water
mouse-ear
coleworts (coles)
frankincense
Doves dung
oil of lillies
alabaster
olive oil
white salt [regular table salt, as differentiated from bay salt]
"some of the green of" the elder-tree, or the apples of Oak trees
Hartshorn
red pimpernel
lovage
cumin
burnt-powder red nettles
red Sage [haven't seen any other color mentioned, but here emplaced in case I find others]
celandine
a handful of honeysuckles
handful of woodbine leaves and flowers
pennyworth of grains made into fine powder, and boiled all very well together
life-honey (unclarified, unboiled honey)
flowers and roots of primroses
white copperas
fifteen seeds of juniper
seeds of gromwell
red snails
plantain
anise
sangdragon (amboyna)
tussilago (coltsfoot) 
red rose leaves
maidenhair
hillwort
eufraise
leaves of willow (boiled in oil, upon hair)
nine or ten eggs roasted very hard (with yolks put away), whites brayed very small
rind of hyssop
one ounce of small raisins
aquavitae ("a strong aqueous solution of ethanol")
a quartern of fine lycoras powder
two penny worth of gumme Arabick
"a little quantity of Barm"
horehound
the lungs of a fox
a little cinammon
powder of horsemint (beebalms)
powder of Calamintha
a little spermaceti
sheep's tallow
combined or processes:
handful of
Marigold plant
fennel, as much as May-weed
beat them together
strain them with a pint of beer
Wormwood beaten with the gall of a Bull
the white of an egg beaten to oil, as much Rose water... as much of the juice of Houseleek
fifteen seeds of juniper, and as many gromwell seeds, five branches of fennel, beat them together, then boil them in a pint of old ale, till three parts be wasted; then strain them into a glass, and drop thereof three drops into each eye at night, and wash your eyes every morning for the space of fifteen days with your own water, and it will clear any decayed sight whatsoever 
take red snails, and seethe them in fair water
Take the rind of hyssop, and boil or burn it, and let the fume or smoke go into the mouth, and it will stay any rhume falling from the head.
take the lungs of a fox, and lay it in rose water, or boil it in rose water, then take it out, and dry it in some hot place without the sun; then beat it to powder with sugar candy [?????], and eat of this powder morning and evening
take the herb brokelhemp, and frying it with sheeps tallow, lay it hot [poultice] on the grieved place, and it will take away the anguish
discoveries:
"bruised" to refer to anything other than physical harm on a person, here referring to ingredients; similar is happening with "grief" as in "grief in the head"
the use of different words to refer to the same thing like "linseed" being used earlier and "flax" being used latter
page 18
English Recusant Literature, Volume 203 (1566)
contayned (contained)
beleauing (believing)
spred (spread)
furder (further)
authour (author)
ferveth (serves)
triall (trial)
creditte (credit)
uttred (uttered)
booke (book)
fansie (fancy)
brayne (brain)
bretherne (brethren)
suffring (suffering)
triuphe (triumph)
wynkig (winking)
chardge (charge)
adiuged (adjudged)
maister (master)
be ware (be wary, beware)
presumptios (presumptuous)
ministred (ministered)
vnleffe (unless)
haue (have)
therfore (therefore)
Ghospell (Gospel)
soules (souls)
vs (us)
aduertifed (advertised)
juftifie (justify)
boke (book)
receaued (received)
approvued (approved)
newe (new)
yf (if)
refufe (refuse)
diftemperature (distemperature)
mone (moon)
othes (oaths)
aegerneffe (eagerness)
buſineſſe (business)
hauens (havens, ports or harbors)
zeale (zeal)
apease (appease)
amongeft (amongst)
brotherhoode (brotherhood)
weightie (weighty)
leyfure (leisure)
viewe (view)
worke (work)
drawe (draw)
certayne (certain)
margent (margin)
repete (repeat)
doe (do)
geue (give)
accompte
al that aske (all that ask)
yeres (years)
preched (preached)
ftraunge (strange)
meate (meat)
refufal (refusal)
marriadge (marriage)
ryfing (rising)
vowes (vows)
vp (up)
cloyster (cloister)
beggery
diuell (devil)
fynne (sin)
hym (him)
woorde (word)
bodie (body)
faied (said)
delyuered (delivered)
polycarpe (polycarp)
coniurers (connivers)
17:31:40 – 17:47:55
Dorothea's The Garland of Flora
youthful brow
the wilds of Araby
the accacia waves her yellow hair
a bridal train
a succession of narcissuses, hyacinths, anemonies, irises, violets of all sorts, roses of every kind, and every odoriferous plant
scatter them [odoriferous plants] on their tables and beds
blue skies of sunny Italy
lilies in full baskets
ambrosial sweets
To France does thy vagrant spirit guide thee?
their 'fields Elysian'—crowded with the most luxuriant plants; little suspecting that full oft beneath their fragrant shade repose the mortal relics of the dead.
Marble temples, costly pavilions will surround thee—thou mightest indeed believe it a true Elysium
primroses, cowslips, eglantines, woodbines, violets, the fragrant thyme, and every flower the lavish Spring bestows; and yet going still, a wild and sweet way to the land of Burns, there to gather 'unnumbered buds and flowers, delicious spoils,' not forgetting
'The purple heath, and golden broom,
Which scent the passing gale?'
Unwearied still, dost plume thy wings for a yet longer flight?
thou mayst with Persian maidens weave garlands of the violet, jasmine, or lotos flowers
odorous, night blooming nyctanthes, with the drooping mimosa; and cull rich blooms from the canna, the white arum, the yellow zanthium, and the classic hibiscus;
rest secure under the báta tree—or recline beneath the dark cupressus
Or seeing, does thou prefer 'yonder plain of various colors? It is crowned with groves and gardens, and flowing rivulets; it is a place belonging to the abodes of heroes.
The ground is perfect silk, and the air is scented with musk; you would say is it rose-water which glides between the banks?
The stalk of the lily bends under the weight of the flower;
and the whole grove is charmed with the fragrance of the rosebud
The pheasant walks gracefully among the flowers;
the dove and the nightingale warble from the branches of the cypress.
From the present time to the latest age, may these banks resemble the bowers of Paradise!'
the Persian of Ferdusi; trans. by Sir Wm. Jones.
the young child surrounded by troops of gay laughter loving nymphs
His favorite resorts are the plains of Agra
His bow is of sugar-cane twined with flowers; 
his string is of bees
his five arrows are pointed each with an Indian flower
pg. 3
20:43:01 – 21:07:49
Alice Walker's The Complete Stories
a jar of cold cream melting on a mirrored vanity shelf
scribbling down impressions of the South
travel broadened him
a hundred acres of peanuts
dirt-eating toad
of brick, with a Japanese bath
he smiled in that snake-eyed way he has
He settled his other hand deep in my hair.
writing in the grape arbor, on the ledge by the creek that is hidden from the house by trees
their glances slide off me in a peculiar way
Then I plugged in one of his chain saws and tried to slice off his head. This failed because of the noise. Ruel woke up right in the nick of time. [dafuck]
I can even whistle it, or drum it with my fingers.
The house still does not awaken to the pitter-patter of sweet little feet, because I religiously use the Pill.
Shoes that will go to mold and mildew in the cellar.
his gold mustang stickpin
The pockets of the jacket came softly outward from the lining like skinny milktoast rats.
pg. 26
21:12:06 – 22:01:40
Featherstonhaugh's Excursion Through the Slave States
it was a camp of... slave-drivers, just packing up to start; they had about three hundred slaves with them, who had bivouacked the preceding night in chains in the woods... to work upon the sugar plantations in Louisiana
coffles ("A group of animals, prisoners, or slaves chained together in a line.")
a caravan of nine waggons and single-horse carriages, for the purpose of conducting the white people, and any of the blacks that should fall lame, to which they were now putting their horses to pursue their march.
female slaves... sitting on logs of food, whilst others were standing, and a great many little black children were warming themselves at the fire of the bivouac.
stood, in double files, about two hundred male slaves, manacled and chained to each other
some of the principal white slave-drivers, who were tolerably well dressed, and had broad-brimmed white hats on, with black crape round them, were standing near, laughing and smoking cigars.
manumit
the... population amounts now to about two million... whether the white or the black race is to predominate
Hence... have risen greatly in price, from 500 to 1000 dollars, according to their capacity.
when they are pinched, are compelled to sell a... or two.
a "gang" had surprised their conductors when off their guard, and had killed some of them with axes.
lofty and fertile table-land covered with rich grass and well-watered
talcose, quartzose, hornblende, green altered epidotic rocks, ancient sandstones, and chlorite slates, exceedingly intersected with strong quartz veins: being also non-fossiliferous
Unaykay, which is the Cherokee term for "white;"
patches of chert of a blackish color
Anthracite coal is found in most of the little valleys about here, at the foot of the ridges, conforming to the flexure of the strata.
vein of galena in the limestone
Wythe Court House, at the shabby dirty tavern where the stage-coach puts up, and where they pretended to give us dinner, but everything was so filthy, it was impossible to eat.
The landlord, a noisy, ill-dressed, officious fellow, was eternally coming into the room with his mouth full of tobacco, plaguing us to eat his nasty pickles and trash along with the bread and milk we were contented to dine upon, and for which he charged us half a dollar each.
class of lazy, frowzy, tobacco-chewing country landlords who think nothing is right unless there is a good deal of dirt mixed up with it.
a pair of preposterously-fitting trowsers, covered with grease, a roundabout jacket to correspond, and a conceited, lantern-jawed, snuff-coloured visage, with an old ragged straw-hat stuck at the top of it
expectorating with such force and precision, that he could hit anything within a reasonable distance, and with a force before unknown to belong to that branch of projectiles
a flock of young ducklings
graceful knolls of limestone well wooded to the top, rich grazing-grounds, and a surprising fertility all around.
edges of the limestone strata, however, cross the road often, and make it very rough traveling.
passed many patches of red earth that bore a very luxuriant herbage: soils of this colour appear to be derived from two sources, a red argillaceous rock, of which I have observed some isolated patches, and a red ferruginous sandstone, which last, on decomposing, makes rather a barren surface, probably from the too great abundance of ferruginous oxide.
At the ford of the north fork of the Holston River—a main tributary of the Tennesse—there is a fine bottom land which is very productive, yielding eighty bushels of maize to the acre.
Abingdon, a straggling village
a very opulent landholder, and can count one hundred and sixty-two descendants
a couple of blood mares
his father's salt-works, sixteen miles distant
a ragged assemblage of wooden buildings where the salt is manufactured, and is situated in a small vale about a mile and a half long, and, perhaps, six hundred yards broad: it is evidently the site of an ancient lake; indeed, canoes were used when the white people first took possession of the place, and even now it is a low, flat, marshy bottom, imperfectly drained.
Plaster Banks, a deep quarry excavation from whence they take the gympsum in blocks, which is sold on the spot at four dollars and a half per ton.
contained between lofty hummocks or hills at the same mineral, round and conical at the top
sometimes hear fragments of gypseous clay splash into it, it is evident there is a vast reservoir of salt water at the depth of 220 feet
one bushel of salt of 50 lbs. to 24 gallons of water; but in the rainy seasons the atmospheric waters raise the wells, and make the brine weaker
subterranean stream of fresh water runs into the Preston Well at a certain depth from the surface, and from thence has an oblique passage downwards into the King Well, and thus reduces its strength.
pure beds of gymsum, or sulphate of lime... and the plaster is... capped by an incoherent sandstone.
graywacke slate
The name of cove is given in this part of the country to any crater-like basin or vale of land entirely surrounded by lofty hills, and there are many such in these mountains.
Some of them contain from 500 to 1000 acres of the most fertile soil.
The cove we went to see was difficult of access; after traveling about three miles up the ridge, we came suddenly upon it, and got into it by a difficult pass, just wide enough for one horse, where the mountain side sloped at an angle of about 65° among the loose sandstone rocks,which made it frequently necessary for us to dismount.
On our right was a deep ravine which separated us from some lofty mural escarpments at the top of which were strong ledges of naked sandstone hanging at an angle of about 55°. The scene was strikingly wild.
Charley Talbot... eyes that glanced incessantly from one object to another, without resting more than an instant upon anything
panther-hunter
wild-cat killer
a man that would drag a bear out of his den
bring down a deer
kill the fat hogs or beeves of the settlers
dabbler in literature
was provided with a grey stallion of great fleetness and bottom to bottom to go to Abingdon on a Sunday
used to boast that his nag [old horse] and himself cared nothing for Monday, because they knew every inch of the country as well by night as by day
the very summit of the mountain to the left was capped by red horizontal rocks, forming an escarpment
strong laurel thickets
This animals, so fond on sucking-pigs, is the spotted wild cat (Felis rufa?) [Featherstonhaugh's the one who put the question mark, very interesting], and is universally complained of in this part of the country as destructive to young pigs, for the sows are all permitted to run at large in the woods.
pg. 147
22:02:50 – 22:26:05
Bartram's Travels Through North and South Carolina, Georgia..
where I securely fastened my boat to a Live Oak, which overshadowed my port
a chain of shallow ponds
its head terminating in the form of a sharp cone [additional abstract shape language to help with drafting difficult structural vocabulary pre-internalization]
silvery whiteness of the leaves of this tree, had a striking and pleasing effect on the sight [filler language here in the latter part of the excerpt, but thought to include it at least once]
Its thick foliage, of a dark green colour, is flowered over with large milk-white fragrant blossoms, on long slender elastic peduncles
the ground beneath covered with the fallen flowers
from scarlet to crimson [didn't think there was a difference]
lastly to a brownish purple [wtf]
unfading lustre
low wet grounds on rivers, in a sandy soil, the nearest to the water of any other tree, so that in droughty seasons its long serpentine roots which run or upon the surface of the earth, may reach into the water
forming a pyramidal head [might be useful for more structural or architectural drafts]
wood of old trees when sawn into plank... in cabinet-work or furniture
a cinnamon coloured ground, marbled and veined with many colours
inner bark is used for dying a reddish or sorrel colour... imparts this colour to wool, cotton, linen, and dressed deer-skins, and is highly esteemed by tanners
large coral red fruit
deep green fern-like pinnated leaves
its prickly limbs stride and wreathe about
its spikes of crimson flowers... amidst the delicate foliage
22:03:59 – 22:18:01 Lots of Car Movement Verbs
Motherless Brooklyn
chuckleheads
tossed his cigarette behind him into the street, where it tumbled, sparks scattering
went in, sweeping the door wide
grown-ups in business suits shivering their way into gimmicky bars as the nightlife got under way, while my ears built a soundscape from the indoor echoes of Minna's movement up the stair
shoe leather chafing on wood, stairs squeaking, then a hesitation, a rustle of clothing perhaps, then two wooden clunks, and the footsteps resumed more quietly. Minna had taken off his shoes.
palmed another Castle out of the paper sack—six burgers to restore order in a senseless world
More muffled foostepse, a door closing. A clunk, possibly a bottle and glass, a poured drink.
triply distracted—the power window had seduced my magpie mind and now demanded purposeless raising and lowering
I craned my neck to see past him, but there was nobody visible in the doorway of his building
He held up his hands.
zipped down the powder window again, finally pried my fingers away.
supressed another dickweed into a high, chihuahuaesque barking sound, something like yipke!
I repeated my impulsive flapping motion with my hand, an expedient tic-and-gesture combo, trying to nudge this buffoon back to his doorway
Over the headset I heard Minna shut the bathroom door behind him, begin running water.
pulling the headphones down around my neck
touching my fingertip to his nose
He flinched me away like a fly.
We hustled into the car, and Coney revved the engine.
We sat facing forward, our car shrouded in its own steam, waiting, vibrating.
My jaw worked, chewing the words back down, keeping silent.
Gilbert's hands gripped the wheel, mine drummed quietly in my lap, tiny hummingbird motions.
I lifted one of the headphones to my right ear. No voices, nothing but clunking sounds, maybe the stairs.
clutching the tall man's shoulders like a human backpack
waited in a thicket [use for anything other than trees, leaves, and nature] of cabs and other traffic for the light to change
we lurched all together, a floating quilt of black- and dun-colored private cars and the bright-orange cabs, through the intersection
We remained stuck a car back. [the use of car as a measure of distance "a car back"]
he jockeyed for an open spot in the lane to the right
"Spare me," groused Convey as he got us directly behind the K-car at last.
we hit the end of the cycle of green lights
another car slipped in ahead of us [more movement verbs for anything other than people, cars being an area I have yet to immerse and indulge myself in]
wedged in, unable to follow and brave the stream of crosstown traffic
22:26:34 – 22:31:04
Dorothea's The Garland of Flora
green robes
balmy showers
many-plumed warbling throng
the streets were strowed (strewed) with flowers
While from the scaffolds, windows, tops of houses,
Are cast such gaudy showers of garlands down
prune their feathers in his golden beams
gaudy train
pendant branches
streets hung with tapestry 
fountaines were running with wine
a long white robe with a purple fringe; her face was covered with a red veil, and her head was crowned with flowers
pg. 6
April 19, 2026
13:54:31
My Threescore Years and Ten
literary chicken
20:21:42 – 20:53:27
Adventures During a Journey Overland to India Vol. 1 by Mayor Skinner, 31st Reg.
Its sandy neighbourhood, and the numerous olive-trees sprinkled about it
The mistrale blew for many days, and prevented the vessels leaving the harbour
hen-coop
three-decker
the wooden stars that are hung over shop-doors in England to receive the lamps on an illumination night.
a towering rage
huddled together a crowd of donkeys, their little ragged attendants "standing at ease."
I at length reached a turn in the long lane, and found on one side, near the sea, a coffee-house, in which were seated Turks and Arabs, and near which the business of justice seemed to be carried on
Veiled damsels and loaded porters, pompous Turks and dirty fellahs, with strings of donkeys pushing their way, indifferent of the kicks and curses that assailed them as they unceremoniously disturbed the lounging progress of the foot-passengers, were all around me.
the smell... tobacco bazaar
when in rushed a crowd of every description, as if pressed by some terribly enemy,—an avalanche could not have more confused the city.
Away it rattled with four horses and a proportion of outriders, as indifferently as if it had been flying over Salisbury Plain, bumping against the shops from side to side as it went.
an amber-headed pipe at his mouth
although such an advanced in civilization is highly commendable, I hope, when carriages become general, those who indulge in them may see the necessity of building towns to hold them.
a red cap with a long blue tassel, the uniform head-dress of the army, with a pair of scarlet Turkish slippers
coffee-houses and spirit-shops, from which came a most execrable smelll of aqua-vitae, the vilest of all possible decoctions, and with the odour of which every shop and every man in this part of the city is impregnated
reached the midst of an extensive area, on one side of which was a wide street running down to the borders of the old harbour, with a row of high white-washed houses on each side, while, on the other, was a heap of mud, and narrow lanes opening upon it, that would, I think, have done discredit to our St. Giles, my little guide stopped me and asked where we were to go.
alighted in front of a guard-room that stands at the entrance of the street
dressed in blue cloth, a la Turque, with a pair of European boots and large brass spurs: instead of a shawl round his waist, he had a girdle, and no turban graced his head.
wore the close red cap, with about half an inch of a neat white one peeping below it; he was compact, and, I may add, soldier-like enough, but shorn of everything that gives in my eyes dignity and grace to an Oriental.
round his wrist he wore a whip of hide
as I went towards the sea, were the arms of several nations,—among them those of my own,—hanging over the doors like sign-boards, very much tarnished and indifferently painted: the consular establishments have been for some time, I find, removed from Grand Cairo to this place, which has become, since the war with the Sultan, the most useful, if not the most populous, city of the Pasha.
April 20, 2026
2:00:00 Notas-u
Written on phone:
Travels in Tartary, Thibet, and China by Evariste Regis Huc (1928)
The coolness of the autumn was becoming somewhat biting.
lances, arrows, portions of farming implements, and urns filled with Corean money
rude grandeur
covered with fine forests
Mongol tents whitened the valleys, amid rich pasturages
All the trees were grubbed up
new cultivators set busily to work in exhausting the fecundity of the soil
Almost the entire region is now in the hands of the Chinese, and it is probably to their system of devastation that we must attribute the extreme irregularity of the seasons which now desolate this unhappy land.
the winds by degrees double their violence, and sometimes continue to blow far into the summer months
Then the dust rises in clouds, the atmosphere becomes thick and dark; and often, at midday, you are environed with the terrors of night, or rather, with an intense and almost palpable blackness, a thousand times more fearful than the most somber night.
Next after these hurricanes comes the rain... for it pours down in furious raging torrents.
Sometimes the heavens suddenly opening, pour forth in, as it were, an immense cascade, all the water with which they were charged in that quarter;
and immediately the fields and their crops disappear under a sea of mud, whose enormous waves follow the course of the valleys, and carry everything before them.
The torrent rushes on, and in a few hours the earth reappears; but the crops are gone, and worse even than that, the arable soil also has gone with them.
Nothing remains but a ramification of deep ruts, filled with gravel, and thenceforth incapable of being plowed.
Hail is of frequent occurence in these unhappy districts, and the dimensions of the hailstones are generally enormous.
some that weighed twelve pounds
One moment sometimes suffices to exterminate whole flocks.
In 1843, during one of these storms, there was heard in the air as of a rushing wind, and therewith fell, in a field near a house, a mass of ice larger than an ordinary millstone. It was broken to pieces with hatchets, yet, though the sun burned fiercely, three days elapsed before these pieces entirely melted.
Next year... there will be neither rich nor the poor; blood will cover the mountains; bones will fill the valleys (Ou fou, ou kioung; hue man chan, kou man tchouan.)
Thousands died upon the hills, whither they had crawled in search of grass; dead bodies filled the roads and houses; whole villages were depopulated to the last man.
our small trunks were packed and padlocked
The night was far advanced, when suddenly numerous voices were heard outside our abode, and the door was broken with loud and repeated knocks.
not in a car, but on camels, in true Tartar fashion
effecting the equipment of the caravan
procure the restitution of a mule which had been stolen from him
Some repaired our traveling-house, that is to day, mended or patched a great blue linen tent; others cut for us a supply of wooden tent pins;
others mended the holes in our copper kettle, and renovated the broken leg of a joint stool
others prepared cords, and put together the thousand and one pieces of a camel's pack
Tailors, carpenters, braziers, rope-makers, saddle-makers, people of all trades assembled in actice co-operation in the courtyard of our humble abode.
perforate the nostrils of the camels, and to insert in the aperture a wooden peg, to use as a sort of a bit
wild piercing cries of the poor animals
The crowd ranged themselves in a circle around him;
every one was curious to see how, by gently pulling the cord attached to the peg in its nose, our Lama could make the animal obey him, and kneel at his pleasure.
When the arrangements were completed, we drank a cup of tea, and proceeded to the chapel;
the Christians recited prayers for our safe journey;
we received their farewell, interrupted with tears, and proceeded on our way.
Samdadchiemba, our Lama cameleer gravely mounted on a black, stunted, meager mule, opened the march, leading two camels laden with our baggage
the former mounted on a tall camel, the latter on a white horse
for the first mile or two of our journey, we were escorted by our Chinese Christians, some on foot, and some on horseback, our first stage was to be an inn kept by the Grand Catechist of the Contiguous Defiles
novices in the art of saddling and girthing camels, so that every five minutes we had halt, either rearrange some cord or piece of wood that hurt and irritated the camels, or to consolidate upon their backs, as well as we could, the ill-packed baggage that threatened, ever and anon, to fall to the ground.
After journeying about thirty-five lis [the Chinese Li being a quarter of an English mile according to the footnote], we quitted the cultivated district and entered upon the Land of Grass. There we got on much better; the camels were more at their ease in the desert, and their pace became more rapid.
ascended a high mountain... camels evinced a devided tendency to compensate themselves for their trouble, by browsing, on either side, upon the tender stems of the elder tree or the green leaves of the wild rose.
The shouts... alarmed infinite foxes, who issued from their holes and rushed off in all directions.
On attaining the summit of the rugged hill we daw in the hollow beneath the Christian inn of Yan-Pa-Eul.
We proceeded towards it, our road constantly crossed by fresh and limpid streams, which, issuing from the sides of the mountain, reunite at its foot and form a rivulet which encircles the inn.
the landlord... the Comptroller of the Chest
Inns of this description occur at intervals in the deserts of Tartary, along the confines of China.
a large square enclosure, formed by high poles interlaced with brushwood
In the center of this enclosure is a mud house, never more than ten feet high.
With the exception of a few wretched rooms at each extremity, the entire structure consists of one large apartment, serving at once for cooking, eating, and sleeping; thoroughly dirty, and full of smoke and intolerable stench.
Into this pleasant place all travelers, without distinction, are ushered, the portion of space applied to their accommodation beinh a long, wide Kang, as it is called, a sort of furnace, occupying more than three-fourths of the apartment, about four feet high, and the flat, smooth surface of which is covered with a reed mat, which the richer guests cover again with a traveling carpet of felt, or with furs.
In front of it, three immense coppers, set in glazed earth, serve for the preparation of the traveler's milk-broth.
The apertures by which these monster boilers are heated communicate with the interior of the Kang, so that its temperature is constantly maintained at a high elevation, even in the terrible cold of winter.
Upon the arrival of guests, the Comptroller of the Chest invites them to ascend the Kang, where they seat themselves, their legs crossed tailor-fashion, round a large table, not more than six inches high.
The lower part of the room is reserved for the people of the inn, who there busy themselves with keeping up the fire under the caldrons, boiling tea, and pounding osts and buckwheat into flour for the repast of the travelers.
The Kang of these Tartar-Chinese inns is, till evening, a stage full of animation, where the guests eat, drink, smoke, gamble, dispute, and fight: with nightfall, the refectory, tavern, and gambling house of the day is suddenly converted into a dormitory.
The travelers who have any bed-clothes unroll and arrange them; those who have none, settle as best they may in their personal attire, and lie down, side by side, round the table.
When the guests are very numerous, they arrange themselves in two circles, feet to feet.
Thus reclined, those so disposed, sleep; others, awaiting sleep, smoke, drink tea, and gossip
The effect of this scene, dimly exhibited by an imperfect wick floating amid thick, dirty, stinking oil, whose receptable is ordinarily a broken tea-cup, is fantastic, and to the stranger, fearful.
When we had set up our tent and unrolled  on the ground our goatskin beds, we lighted a pile of brushwood, for the nightd were already growing cold.
Just as we were closing our eyes, the Inspector of Darkness startled us with beating the official night alarum, upon his brazen tam-tam, the sonorous sound of which, reverbersting through the adjacent valleys struck with terror the togers and wolves frequenting them, and drove them off.
We were on foot before daylight.
April 23, 2026
00:34:43 – 01:20:18
Jenny by Sigrid Undset (1911)
A plain of housetops lay beneath him in the valley, the roofs of houses new and old, of houses high and low—it looked as if they had been built anywhere and at any time, and of a size to suit the need of the moment.
a thin veil of white mist, which no busy pillar of smoke dared penetrate, for no factory chimney could be seen, and no smoke came from a single one of the funny little chimney pipes protruding from the houses
round, old, rust-brown tiles
greyish moss, grass and small plants
yellow blossoms
chambers hung in dead cascades from the cornices
Loggias stood out of the mist, looking like parts of an old watchtower, and small summerhouses of wood or corrugated iron were erected on the roofs
even to read the names carved in clear, Latin type on white marble slabs set in the corners of the houses.
The street he took ran into an open space near a bridge, on which two rows of lanterns burned with a sickly, greenish flame in the pale light pouring down from the restless sky.
A low parapet of stone ran along the waterline, bordered by a row of trees with faded leaves and trunks, dropping their bark in big white flakes.
On the opposite side of the river the street lamps were burning among the trees, and the houses stood out black against the sky, but on this side the twilight still flickered on the windowpanes.
The sky was almost clear now, and hung transparent and greenish blue over the hill with the pine avenue, with here and there a few reddish, threatening, slowly moving clouds.
How dull the water was! It flowed on rapidly, reflecting the colours of the evening skies, sweeping twigs and gravel and bits of wood on its way between the stone walls.
A small staircase on the side of the bridge led down to the water's edge.
Helge thought how easy it would be to walk down the steps one night, when one was tired of everything—had any ever done so? he wondered.
pointing up the river
A huge, dark stone erection stood out against the sky, a low, round tower with a jagged crest and the jet-black silhouette of an angel on top.
A History of Egypt from the 1st to the XVIth Dynasty by William Matthew Flinders Petrie (1920)
brick-lined pit
a large alabaster jar of the king
an ebony label and an ivory cylinder
vases of basalt, crystal, syenite, and ivory
an ivory lid of a kohl palette
The Four Feathers by A. E. W. Mason (1902)
the old redbrick house, lodged on a southern slope of the Surrey hills, was glowing from a dark forest depth of pines with the warmth of a rare jewel
From the terrace the ground fell steeply to a wide level plain of brown earth and emerald fields and dark clumps of trees.
Far away toward Horsham a coil of white smoke from a train snaked rapidly in and out amongst the trees; and on the horizon rose the Downs, patched with white chalk.
Betwixt the ling and the lowland, a book of country life, humour and sport by William Carter Platts (1901)
purling stream, where the mavis [song thrush] sings in the hawthorn bush and the water-voles plunge about the roots of the trailing willow
the crowded, dusty city, where, when jaded and depressed with the din and worry of an artificial life, the reader can turn to its ever-fresh pages for a glimpse of the rural scenes that are far away; and he can then hear the milkmaid's song, and a whiff of fresh woodland air comes into the room, and a whole legion of weary cares and blue-devils fly scurrying away through the keyhole, and tumble over each other on the steps?
green pastures and still waters
His soul clamours rebelliously for breadth of scene and atmosphere.
let the pining city prisoner
wholesome, literary, rural tonic
Let him smell the scent of the hay through the printing press.
air's too strong and the people are too common
But the people are not too common to be interesting, and the air is not too strong to be healthy and bracing.
rugged fell and mountain fastness, where the curlews scream and the red grouse call, it sweeps down upon us
pg. 1
08:46:43 – 08:50:32
War and Remembrance by Herman Wouk (1978)
iron-and-glass table
a large plateful of the very savory stew, asking for more onions and potatoes; more food than they had seen him put away at midday since his arrival in Pearl Harbor
carry out the footlockers
soaked halter
tall hard-faced young man
looked sidelong at him through cigarette smoke
The small smoky telephone exchange was crowded with waiting sailors and officers.
The chief operator, a buxom lady of forty or so with a heavy Southern accent, brightened when Pug mentioned Lacouture.
hoarsely chuckled
pg. 22
Nicholas and Alexandra by Robert K. Massie (1967)
nine-pound Imperial Crown.
Shaped like a bishop's miter, it was crested with a cross of diamonds surmounting an enormous uncut ruby. Below, set in an arch supporting the cross and in the band surround the head, were forty-four diamonds, each an inch across, surrounded by solid masses of smaller diamonds.
Thirty-eight perfect rosy pearls circled over the crown on either side of the central arch.
Nicholas let the gem-encrusted crown rest on his head for a moment.
walked from the church wearing brocaded mantles embroidered with the double-headed Imperial eagle. They climbed the Red Stairway, turned and bowed three times to the crowd.
From thousands of throats roared a mighty cheer.
From the muzzles of massed cannons, thunder rolled across the city.
Above everything, making it impossible for a man to speak into the ear of his neighbor, clanged the thousands of bells of Moscow.
From the towers and churches of the Kremlin the concentrated ringing of the bells obliterated all other sounds.
Among the thousand guests who dined at the coronation banquet, among the grand dukes and royal princes, the emirs and ambassadors, was one room filled with plenty Russian people in simple dress.
They were three by hereditary right, for they were the descendants of people who, at one point or another, had saved the life of a Russian tsar.
At hundreds of tables the guests sat down and found before them a roll of parchment tied with silken cords.
Inside, in illuminated medieval lettering, was the menu.
The meal consisted of borshch and pepper-pot soup, turnovers filled with meat, steamed fish, whole spring lamb, pheasants in cream sauce, salad, asparagus, sweet fruits in wine, and ice cream.
12:17:21 – 12:20:59
Cane River by Lalita Tademy (2001)
peed on the rosebushes
four-poster bed
pushed herself up from her straw pallet on the floor
made her way quickly down the narrow hall, beyond the wall altar, and past the polished mahogany grandfather clock in the front room, careful to sidestep the squeaky board by the front door
inched past the separate entrance to the stranger's room and around to the side of the big house where the prized bushes waited.
Barefoot into the darkness... aided only by the slightest remnant of the Louisiana summer moon... a sprawling rosebush with delicate pale yellow flowers and visible roots as long as her father's fiddling bow.
a thin, jagged scratch on her bare arm from a thorn she hadn't seen in the darkness
12:56:29 – 14:13:32
Travels and Adventures in Southern Africa by George Thompson (1827)
I have attempted to supply, in some degree, this desideratum: and I trust I may, without presumption, aspire to the approbation of my countrymen for the attempt, whatever may be the imperfections of the execution.
exportation of aloes, a branch of colonial traffic which had at that time begun to assume some importance
a long range [range used for buildings when I previously thought them only for mountains and the like] of buildings 
wished to ascertain by personal inspection the resources of those remote districts with the view of opening, if practicable, new and more profitable channels of mercantile enterprize.
enlargement of geographical science
I shall follow their example, by giving a list of my accoutrements; which, compared with those of my celebrated precursors, Vaillant, Sparrman, Burchell, and others, will at least afford an amusing contrast.
A strong saddle and bridle, with holsters, occupied by two brandy bottles instead of pistols
A double-barrelled gun, with a supply of powder and ball; flints, bullet-mould, and other shooting-gear.
A small portmanteau to fix behind my saddle, containing three changes of linen, small shaving apparatus, &c.
In the eight pockets of my shooting jacket were stowed the following articles:—
A map of South Africa; ditto of Albany; a compass, thermometer, and burning glass; four memorandum-books and a dozen black-lead pencils; three pocket knives, tinder-box, roll of twine, &c., a small bottle of Eau de Cologne, and a few other medicines; and four pocket volumes of English poetry for occasional recreation. These, with a few other necessaries, occupied the numerous pockets of my coat, and increased its weight to about twenty-five lbs., a burden which, in hot weather, I found sufficiently cumbersome to carry constantly upon me, but which I could yet neither dispense with, nor otherwise dispose of.
My other accoutrements were a seal-skin cap for wearing in cold weather, and a broad-brimmed straw hat for lightness and shade under the burning sun. The latter, when off duty, was tied on my back: the former was readily slipped into one of my side-pockets.
I had also a warm Flushing great-coat for wrapping myself in at night, and which I designed to be carried by the Hottentot guides who must necessarily accompany me from place to place, with the horses I expected to hire or purchase on my route.
Lastly, I had taken care to prepare myself with proper letters of introduction to the magistrates of the different districts through which I had to pass, in order to procure from them official orders to the inhabitants to supply me with horses and guides for hire, when I should require them.
pg. 7
April 24, 2026
Written physically with a 64-sleeve ruled notebook from April 24, 4:53 AM to April, 26, 6:14 PM during three days of environmental camp at —.
Nothing was erased, only crossed out, during the note-taking, even after I switched to an eraser-headed pencil and a pencil sharpener when the ballpen ink became faded.
meaning:
[/text]/ = brackets with forward slashes by the author, not by me
[text] = brackets by me during note-taking
[[text]] = double brackets by me transcribing manually by keyboard at home after the event
./././ or ././././ = ellipsis by the author in excerpting
... or .... = ellipsis by me during note-taking
<s>text</s> crossed-out by me during note-taking
<s>*</s> crossed-out asterisk by me during note-taking
<ins>text</ins> underline by me during note-taking to emphasize, with its own place, but one of its roles being to separate two words or phrases that both deserve to be given a bold emphasis, as in "two cars" where the emphasis on the whole and the separation of the two are both kept, while another role being to point out prepositions, like uses or forms or constructions that are novel to me
<sup>text</sup> written by me transcribing manually by keyboard at home after the event to indicate text inserted in between after line was already written
<sub>text</sub> written by me during note-taking to de-emphasize line
**text** written by me to emphasize at a bold level, essentially higher than italics, during note-taking, as in using actual asterisks
*text* written by me to emphasize at a italics level, essentially lower than bold, during note-taking, as in using actual asterisks
04:53:00 – 05:46:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
spicy soup dish of vegetables with legumes, leafy greens with roasted coconut, fried fish, tofu or eggs and a sambal
One dish could provide a
hearty feed for two
a generous spoonful to be eaten with a number of other dishes for up to six to eight people
dinner party for eight... three to five recipes with a sambal should be sufficient, plus rice of course
If... cooking just for one, halve the spices and ingredients in the recipe, or cook the whole dish and freeze the remainder
Leftovers are never a problem as the flavours of simmered spices are more exciting the next day
Spice pastes can be stored in the fridge for up to two weeks, with a smear of oil on top
Nowadays, the search for Asian ingredients does not have to compromise comprise an alle all-day trek to a remote suburb. Many supermarkets are stocking their shelves with exotic seasonings as more Australians embrace the cuisine of their closest neighbours.In my home city of Melbourne, Box Hills, Springvale, Abbots ford [[sic]] and the Victoria Market are a won-
[[Leaf 1, Page 2]]
derful source for the ingredients used in this book
05:51:00 – 06:38:00 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
populist muckraking
importunings
tightly set lips and direct gray eyes
the three of them in plush Victorian parlors, sharing a joke, quarreling, cajoling, encouraging one another
Phoebe in lavender dresses and tight corsets and George enjoying a whiskey served by his faithful black butler, Robert Turner
W. R. sets off a long string of fire crackers
Pretty Millicent Hearst flutters about her mother-in-law, in whose arms rest the twin babies (born in 1915). happy not to have to mingle too often with the
"hoi polloi"
deplored snobbery but basked in the company of royalty
refusal to knuckle under her thumb
deplore the lack of social graces today (thank-you letters were written promptly for the slightest favor in her time), but she would delight in the equality between men and women—if not, perhaps, the equality of garb, the faded blue jeans and sloppy shirts common to both sexes.
smart-aleck
exposés of corporate exploitation
[[Leaf 2, Page 3]]
[[the mother]] canceled subscriptions to magazines that published offensive articles about him and felt [[the critics felt]] that his political ambitions nullified his newspapers' worthiness because he was wrongly perceived as "buying" public office for his own ends
papers' losses of a million dollars a year
Govern him by letting him govern himself.
on the fringe of "old-guard" society, although Phoebe... as - She matriach [[sic]] of a "first family" of the West
She and Will, though, were intolerant of those supercilious or less bright than they, thus setting themselves apart.
Will's wise and down-to-earth father once told his son, when he was starting his newspaper career and complained of the number of fools in the world,
I would not be too hard on the fools if I were you, Willie. If everyone were very clever, you and I might have a pretty hard time getting along.
They lived in extraordinary pre-income-tax luxury
pg. 21
07:24:00 – 07:34:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Hayes [[sic]]
faded front porch and the green metal chair
passed Virginia Street with its tall trees, then on past Cedar Knot Avenue where a couple
[[Leaf 2, Page 4]]
of kids were rolling a ball out into the street.
A sea of early dock grew wid wild along the clay road, standing in waist-high clusters
And though he'd never noticed the wildflowers before June, he'd meet them since and been told more than once that their seeds, still white and hidden, would turn rust-colored once the weather cooled and the days shortened.
He'd been told a tea could be brewed from boiling out the yellow root; a tea good enough to cure the stomach and the gums and certain cases of jaundice.
08:23:00 – 08:41:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
watched the sleepy travelers depart disembark, he wished that he had brought with him at least a half-dozen E Federal guards
Since the guards were just coming off night duty, no one would think it odd if they should converge, in a casual sort of way, upon the depot.
But the other half of the semi-official Joint Congressional Committee of Two, Senator William H. Seward of New York, had said, "No, we don't want to draw any attention to our visitor. You and I will be enough."
Since the always-mysterious Seward had then chosen not to come to the depot, only the House of Representatives was represented in the stout person of Elihu P. Washburne, who was, suddenly, attracted
[[Leaf 3, Page 5]]
to a plainly criminal threesome
To the let left, a small-eyed sharp-eyed man with one hand plunged deep in his overcoat pocket where the outline of a derringer was visible
To the right, a large thickset man young man with both hands in his pockets—two pistols?
In the center, a tall thin man, wearing a soft slouch hat, pulled over his eyes like a burglar, and a short overcoat whose collar was turned up, so that nothing was visible between cap and collar but a prominent nose and high cheekbones covered with yellow skin, taut as a drum. In his left hand he clutched a leather grip-sack containg containing, no doubt, the tools of this trade sinister trade.
pg. 4
08:43:00 – 09:10:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
fresh galangal, Chinese greens or lime leaves
off to 'Vietnam'... grow up thinking that Vietnam is only a ten-minute drive from our house in East Kew.
carry the blessings with you into everyday life.
hundreds of sandwiches and rice meals and collected drinks and other necessities for victims and helpers.
car was loaded withe [[a frequent error of mine]] with people, food, refreshments, towels and other bits and pieces that had been gathered within an hour or two.
A 'Donations Needed' sign was placed on a table opposite the piles of freshly baked bread, chocolate
[[Leaf 3, Page 6]]
yoghurt cake and apple crumble.
helped organise a blood donors' unit at a nearby clinic and a handful of expatriate volunteers sat there with Indonesians to translate.
misty eyes
a large ceremony had taken place south of Kuta during which a giant old turtle had been slaughtered. The turtle had been used purely as an offering and the flesh had not been eaten.
On the Friday after the bombing, under a waxing moon, sprays of fragrant tears fell to the ground from the leaves of a huge shady tree within the inner courtyard of the Ubud palace.
Words spread throughout the town and by 10 p.m. the small area that had received the droplets of water was crowded with Balinese throwing their arms up to receive blessings.
The atmosphere within this royal sanctuary was charged with happiness and hope.
'Could this be a miracle?' I heard a Westerner ask
The following day the shower persisted. By midday the pre priests had arrived and began chanting sacred mantras to the anxious crowd
More Balinese arrived to gather water and take it home to their shrines. People lined up for blessings.
The holy men who channel the spirits
[[Leaf 4, Page 7]]
were called upon to communicate withe with God and ask for an explanation. The message finally spread around town that the ancestors of the palace were responsible for the water.
pg. 6
09:14:00 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
The carriage rolling and bumping up the road on an autumn day in Missouri i [[sic]] 1862 carried an uncommon couple: a great, gangling, bearded, soft-eyed man of forty-two years and his recent bride, about half his size and age
Her diminutive size and youth, nineteen years,
Cool, serious, gray eyes betrayed an intelligence and maturity beyond her age.
The pair were en route to a train that would carry take them to St. Louis and New York, out of the lush Meramec River Valley, away from the Civil War that was being fought in their neighborhood and town squares
the backwoods leaving the backwoods, a "miserable country."
there was an easier life way to live and cultured people outside the valley with its small farms and lead mines and God-fearing neighbors
The older man beside her, George Hearst, offered the promise of a better life
struck it rich with a little-known silver mine at a place they called Comstock in the Sierra Nevadas far to the west of St. Clair, Missouri, where Phoebe and George had
[[Leaf 4, Page 8]]
grown upon their family farms. He had made money after ten years in the gold fields. In her small purse Phoebe had a lengthy document, a contract withe with her husband that they had signed the day before they married. It gave Phoebe Elizabeth Epperson, as her name was spelled, fifty shares of George's mining stock if he should die before she died. She would be well cared for, but she did not know that one day she would be among the richest women in the world.
She had dreamed of richly furnished houses, servants, paintings by European masters, of stimulating conversation about books and philosophy, of concerts and plays, of Paris, London, and Rome.
The man beside her would make all these possible. He was kind and gentle if a bit rough-hewn around the social edges.
Perhaps she could refine him. Her plans included more than herself, for she was three months' pregnant and hoped for several other children as well
pretty in a solemn sort of way
pg. 22
09:45:00 – 09:51:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
He'd been told the leaves were fresher and better than the juice of a ripe lemon and that the seeds could be ground up as meal or coarse flour and baked as bread.
Thinking on it, he watched the curling leaves, caught up and moving in greenish blue waves.
A month ago, the hedge was just one more patch 
[[Leaf 5, Page 9]]
of fast-growing springing up wild on the side of the road he walked day in and day out.
Now that patch had a name and a purpose and a deep-seated sermon.
09:58:00 – 10:10:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
"The language of 'dock' is patience—you remember that, Even Grade, next time you see it growin' alongside the road or in a wasted place."
And while he hummed some nonsense song
Stretching his neck, hearing it pop in all directions, he hummed louder, his hands swinging free.
reached down and pulled off a dark-green, wavy leaf and rubbed it between his hands
Waxed and cool, it felt  soft and thin along its curl.
Folding it up accordionlike, he put the length of it in his mouth and chewed, feeling it unfold and open against his teeth like something still living.
He tasted similarity to lemons and something deeper in that spoke of well-seasoned fish and lemon meringue pie and all those tart, clean foods of summer.
he saw his street coming at him just a hundred steps away.
Knowing he'd turn in and see his porch with its single green metal chair.
pg. 7
10:13:00 – 10:24:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
[[Leaf 5, Page 10]]
- As the three men came abreast
hand half out of his overcoat pocket, revealing the derringer's barrel
"This is Ward Hill Lamon." Lincoln indicated the thickset man, who withdrew his right hand from his pocket to share the hand of Washburne, who stared dumbfoundedly dumbly at Lamon's hand, ablaze with what looked to be barbarous jewellry.
Lincoln laughed. "Hill, when you're in the big city you take your brass knuckle off."
"It's in this city that I better keep them on." And Washburne noticed that Lamon—who spoke with a Southern accent—did exactly that.
Meanwhile, Pinkerton had moved on ahead, studying the passers-by with such suspicion that he himself began to attract attention.
Lincoln said what Washburne was thinking. "Mr. Pinkerton is what they call a detective, and detectives always make quite a fuss, trying not to be noticed."
pg. 5
10:28:00 – 10:51:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
a total of 81 banjars representing more than 58,000 people
In the nearby village of Peliatan, thousands of people gathered under the shade of the banyan trees.
The gentle tinkle of the gamelan and chorus of bamboo flutes floated along the road, creating a magical feeling of warmth.
I looked at the faces of the people lining the 
[[Leaf 6, Page 11]]
street and saw shades of hope in every color.
Sunbeaten farmers and old grandmas
Moslems sit beside Balinese Hindus, chatting and laughing.
Children on bicycles decorated with white feathers streamed past like doves on wheels.
Balinese dancers wrapped in bright cloth, wearing their gold headdresses, weathered the intense heat with grace
Young girls drifted by carrying roses, others held peace signs and candles.
The world had come together in the little town of Ubud and I was a part of it.
The veil of sadness that had settled over Ubud dissolved in a shimmer of gold decorations, white banners, flowers and love. Would it be any other way in this tropical heaven haven?
But a week later, Ubud had become a ghost town.
The stark reality that our economy relies solely on tourism and the tourist dollar hit me full on.
lying in bed, tears falling on my pillow, as I thought of all the plans I had made for the coming months, plans I now had to abandon. And I was only one amongst thousands.
family compound
At sunset, we sat in a restaurant by the sea and I staed stared at the fringed palm trees alongside the road.
The next village along from Kuta, consisted of coconut groves and fishermen's huts.
step out of the hot laneway into this cool shady street.
pg. 11
[[Leaf 6, Page 12]]
10:53:00 – 11:17:00 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
[? 6:17 on broken/mismatched time on phone so likely 4 hours difference]
Her brown hair was pulled simply and sternly back, parted in the middle.
Her lips were full, her eyes clear and direct, her demeanor serious.
left a estate of rich farmland and small lead-mining interests
both came from Anglo-Scotch-Irish stock, although Phoebe had a strong German strain in her ancestry.
The Hearsts, though, were one of the few families in the area to have slaves and substantial land holdings.
Most of the people in the valley eked out a living out of the land and lead-filled rewards mines in the neighborhood.
It was a hard fife life for meager material rewards, it was the western frontier of young America. Everything eaten, worn, or used as tools was raised or made on the land.
live and survive off the land
Her fingers had sewn, carded, cooked, planted, hoed, and milked.
They had writtens [[sic]] lessons and sums and even poems
few books to read, but she devoured all she could lay her hands on, even those in French, which she studied avidly and longed to speak on the avenues and in the shops of Paris.
The image of Paris was fixed in her mind rfrom drawings in Harper's Weekly Magazine, where she read
[[Leaf 7, Page 13]]
such stories as Charles Dicken's serialized "Great Expectations" and gazed at the elegant gowns of worldly women.
Although in leaving Missouri her moreno dress was plain and her luggage meager, it one day would expand manyfold to trunks of shoes, dresses, gloves, and handsome jewelry.
Church wa sthe center of social fife life
St. Louis, forty-five miles north was a growing metropolis with opera, theater, and cultural enticements that Phoebe had sampled only briefly.
The rolling hills along the Meramec River were snow-covered in winter, verdant in summer.
In spring the woods blossomed with dogwood and the river ran high.
11:35:00 – 12:07:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
sit there at night, leaning back in study of the stars while his nearest neighbor, who was still back a ways reading yesterday's paper on the loading dock, yelled out his thoughts from the porch next door.
Under a hard noon sun the white water tower at the top of the hill had a way of looking like a stripped down widow woman, all flaked out and peeling, pale and ugly and sad, but with the sun falling and the sky near purple at the horizon, the tower seemed stately again, its weaknesses shored up and braced; covered over by the evening light.
Spitting out patience to the side of the his porch he climbed the steps with tired, aching feet, glad to see Saturday on its way, just behind tonight's moon sto [[not really sure about this, but something was crossed out resembling that]] now, with nothing mark-
[[Leaf 7, Page 14]]
ed down on that fresh page to do either, but whatever it was that happened to come to mind.
—I'm goin' Lo Lo to see Lo Lo, she so Lo Lo, she need Lo Lo./././ [[ellipsis I only marked as belonging in-text rather than by me now]]
At the beginning of August, Even Grade was still a happy man.
The house on Luvenia Korner on Hillcrest Loop had a bedroom at the end of its hall that had not always been a bedroom.
the room at the end had been what was called the peeling platform. [[wrote "should be sub-list" to the left of this because it wasn't, which I made a sub-list in transcription]]
Simple, a ten-by-ten porch squared off around the backdoor, it was a space where as a child Luvenia had been sent to do various jobs—peel potatoes, shell beans and peas, pluck a fresh-killed chicken, and on Saturdays, wash your clothes.
pg. 8 [[decided to continue after this even if this is likely the one occasion that stating the page didn't immediately spell the end of the session and the switch to a new book to take active notes of next]]
Her daddy, if it was Thanksgiving or Christmas and the air chilly, would build her a fire out in the backyard, far enough away from the old pecan tree and the house to be safe, about midways back into the field by the old tractor shed.
Luvenia said that she would fall asleep out on the peeling platform watching a red-orange pyramid of wood crash around itseff itself finally until it was left only a smolder—low and gray and blue—shaped like barely anything at all
"The tent wa always smelled like the ass-end of
[[Leaf 8, Page 15]]
the root cellar.
"and there was something [[spelled "samething"]] at moldy growing on top of the old canvas that had made my nose and eyes itch, but falling asleep on the peeling platform, watching a fire while the wind rustled the leaves of the old pecan tree, is one of the best memories I own.
closed it off around 1920 and we called it the dry porch then."
12:11:00 – 12:30:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal *
Lincoln had pushed down his collar, to reveal a short, glossy black beard that entirely changed the shape—and expression—of his face.
Washburne stared hard.
They were now standing beneath a huge poster of "Abraham Lincoln, the President-elect. Welcome to Washington City."
The cleanshaven face of the poster was hard, even harsh-looking, while the bearded face looked weary, but amiable. To Washburne, the President-elect resembled a prosperous, down-state Illinois farmer come to market.
Lincoln leapt to one side as two huge black women carrying a tub of pork sausage meat hurried toward the cars.
the shrunken wintry sun resembled a small, pale, yellow seal affixed to the parchment-gray sky to the left of where the Capitol's dome should be but was not.
Instead, from the sound tab marble table base, reminiscent of one of Gautier's white wedding cakes, a
[[Leaf 8, Page 16]]
large crane was silhouetted against the sky like a gallows.
"They took the old lid off, I see." Lincoln ignored Pinkerton's efforts to get him into the waiting barouche.
The four men climbed into the carriage.
Pinkerton sat next to the driver.
Lamon sat with his back to the driver's seat while Lincoln and Washburne shared the backseat
Washburne noticed that Lincoln never let go of the grip-sack. Even while seated, he clutched it so hard that the huge knuckles of his hand were white.
pg. 6
12:35:00 – 12:46:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
shrines and temple paraphernalia sparkling in the sun, surrounded by Balinese umbrellas and crowds of people.
A pavilion had been constructed outside the Sari Club and it was there that twelve high priests sat, chanting and ringing small brass bells.
temple dance... mask dance
Curious tourists in skimpy halterneck tops and thin rayon sarongs wandered around.
Other, more sensitive, tourists wore a full ceremonial outfit or a peace T-shirt and sarong.
Amidst such destruction, this one silent shrine, the guardian of the bar, stood unscathed, the black and gold still wrapped around it. It had been showered with offerings and small bottles of holy water were perched on the ledge. Things like that always happen in Bali.
[[Leaf 9, Page 17]]
12:49:00 – 13:03:00 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
a three-day drive by ox cart
moved to Newberry District, South Carolina, an area known as the NInety-Six District,
where they had operated a tavern and trading post on a north-south highway
Appersons, sometimes spelled with an "E,"
Her father was an elder in the Cumberland Presbyterian Church.
Before his marriage, in the 1830s, he had clerked in a neighborhood general store
owned land along the Meramec River, including ninety-five acres that they had obtained with a federal patent in 1825.
purchased seventry-three [[sic]] acres of government homestead land along the river between farms owned by the Hearsts and the local school teacher, Hugh C. Berry.
Phoebe had walked three and a half miles through the woods and crossed the river twice to attend the Salem District Public School. She owed a great deal to that public school, where lessons had opened new perspectives to her [[[no period here]]] Her sympathy for a good public education would reappear with force years later. some years later.
pg. 25
13:05:00 – 13:17:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
a gabled roof over its top that shielded from rain, and three sides of screening that kept away the bugs and mosquitoes and the biting flies.
[[Leaf 9, Page 18]]
Being Methodist he thought a house "truly plumed" was an abomination in the eyes of God."
once he was done tacking down the last screen and his saw and nail bag were hanging back on the nail in the shed, he had stood by the new door opening while she—ten-year-old Luvenia—sat at the old back door and placed her jack ball down on the floor by her feet. . [[two periods]]
Knees up under her dress, she watched the ball move forward and away toward the backdoor, picking up speed until it went flying out the opening.
ball bounced down the steps
She patted the wide window where a door used to be
a love of wide open spaces and nighttime fires as well as the room at the end of the hall that had been other things before it became a room
13:54:00 – 14:19:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal *
two tons of luggage
so many brick barracks interspersed with saloons and shops
six-thirty in the morning the city was not yet properly awake
The hacks that were usually lined up in front of each hotel were not to be seen
Only Negroes—slave and free—were on the move, bringing food to the hotels, cleaning the stairs of the houses and taverns, moving briskly in the cold.
said Lincoln as the carriage skittered over cobbles so ill-set that they made the avenue look
[[Leaf 10, Page 19]]
even more like a vast, wild field than plain frozen mud might have done.
I see they've made a stab at paving the avenue," ..."Not a very serious stab,"
windowless red-brick building
A horsecar rattled into view, only half full at this early hour; the stove at the back of the car smoked badly.
Bare trees sprouted from the brick sidewalk to either side of the door; farther down the avenue a small Greek temple had been completely enveloped by the huge hotel
Washburne was beginning to feel like a city guide.
He examined Lincoln's face to see what his reaction might be, but there was none.
The carriage stopped at the main door. A uniformed Negro t helped the men out of the carriage. "Baggage, gentlemen?"
"By the next train," said Lincoln.
"But, gentlemen—" Pinkerton spun the man to one side. "This way," Pinkerton said, darting into the hotel.
"A very forceful individual," Lincoln observed, with a smile.
Inside the lobby, a half-dozen black porters dozed on their feet while an assistant manager of uncommon whiteness—as if in deliberate hierarchical contrast to the staff—examined a heap of letters at his marble counter.
pg. 7
[[Leaf 10, Page 20]]
14:28:00 – 14:38:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
All those along the footpaths and side streets were instructed to sit down. From where I sat, there was an ocean of people as far as the eye could see.
smell of sandalwood and jasmine incense sat on the moist air
Later midday sun... Later that afternoon, as we sat at a roadside café near Kuta Square, a beautiful procession passed by, a Moslem dance ensemble, a Chinese dragon, a Balinese barong, gamelan players, baris dancers, Christians, and many more.
Drivers sit in groups on the edge of the pavement, staring at the road, waiting for the next job.
Joking amongst friends still continues, although the laughter is subdued.
pg. 17
17:23:00 – 17:43:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
The lobby was high-ceilinged and smelled of coal smoke. Huge dark armchairs were set haphazardly about the room, each with its shining spittoon to hand. Benches of horsehair lined the walls. A few forlorn guests stood surrounded by luggage, waiting to be taken away.
Pinkerton caught the assistant manager's
[[Leaf 11, Page 21]]
attention by slamming his fist on the marble counter.
What had been the whitest faces turned pink with irritation; then even whiter than before when Pinkerton whispered in his ear.
The assistant manager hurried from behind his reception counter; shook Washburne's hand and said in a voice that broke with tension, "Welcome to Willard's Hotel, Mr. President."
"This is the President," said Washburne, indicating Lincoln.
"President-elect," said Lincoln. "Let's not tempt fate. There's still ten days to go yet."
"Your rooms, sir, aren't ready." The assistant manager addressed Lamon, who had taken Washburne's place as Lincoln in his mind.
At that moment an aged white porter approached Washburne and, in a pronounced brogue, said, "Well, Mr. Washburne, sir, I see you've brought us a president."
Seward sat alone at the end of a long table, puffing a cigar, eyes half-closed.
Back of him, waiters were placing chafing dishes on a huge buffet; otherwise, the vast room was empty.
pg. 8, quit while ahead
17:49:00 – 18:13:00 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
Hyrst, a Saxon word meaning a thicket or cluster of trees
[[Leaf 11, Page 22]]
journal entry 18:03: The less you know how you should react to something, the more valuable for personal growth.
had settled in the mining area along the Merrimack," across from the mouth of Indian Creek near the remnants of an old Indian trail, not far from the town of Sullivan.
driven back to the lush banks of the Meramec
The property, consisting of some three hundred acres,lay in a huge bend of the Meramec River.
He related that his great-grand father from Scotland, who had landed in America in 1680, "owned ten acres and nine niggers."
a very muscular man, not very large, but strong... probably weighed about 175 pounds
my mother once coming towards me with a little switch [?], but I do not think she meant to use it.
public affairs... belonged to the militia... first lieutenant, went on all parades, and in everything public evinced a public spirit.
stock raiser [?] [phrasing is different from the usual] and landowner
When George was born, the Hearsts... wealthiest family in Meramec Township [first time encountering this word as a post-positive or whatever no proper noun outside of video games where it stands alone as just "Township"], owning nineteen of the forty-one slaves in the area and having mining interests. [[wrapped in <sub></sub> in accordance to superscripted/side note reading "wrapped in <sub></sub>"]]
"a large, fleshy and rose-cheeked girl,"
[[Leaf 12, Page 23]]
pg. 31, quit while ahead natural conclusion
18:15:00 – 18:26:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
landing on the shores of a garden paradise, surrounded by waves and nodding pine trees.
When the plane doors were swung open, the warm heavy air, redolent with fragrant frangipani and the sweet smell of clove cigarettes [[one extra dangling asterisk here on the right of "cigarettes"; omitted it anyway]], embraced me like a long-lost friend.
soft hot tarmac
as sharp as slivers of gravel [excerpted from Parthayana, The Journeying of Partha]
The heat was overwhelming. [for For some reason, this feels somehow valid because "overwhelming heat" does not hit as hard, though "the overwhelm of the..." might still be unbeatable.]
bright sun beat on ["beat on" with sun as subject] our backs as we made our way towards the airport terminal.
pg. 18, conclusion
18:29:00 – 18:35:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
wrote carefully, her body contorting contorted around the small notebook in the curious fashion of the left-handed—
There is a cruelness coolness in a crow's world that is hateful and then she scratched it out withe with her pencil, not wanting to eat up time by using the eraser.
pg. 10, too much, too fast
[[Leaf 12, Page 24]]
18:40:00 – 19:03:00 or 19:05 if including page where and [[sic]] ending status Lincoln by Gore Vidal
journal entry 19:01: deja vu in this — dam pitch-black darkness.
 At the sight of Lincoln, Seward sprang to his feet; he was not Washburne noted, much taller standing than seated.
Once red-haired, now white-haired, large-nosed, pale-eyed, long-time master of the state of the New York not to mention of the youthful Republic Party, as well as President-that-might-have-been had Lincoln's managers not outmaneuvered his managers at the Chicago Convention, William H. Seward [gigantic frontload appositive impressive given praised by Harold Bloom, [[crossed-out unintelligible word here]] defying previous conceptions.]
Lincoln bowed like a jackknife—a droll, swift effect, though Washburne
delighted to be present at the first real meeting of the great rivals who had threatened to divide the six-year-old Republic Party between the free-the-slaves-at-any-cost abolitionists occasionally represented, if not exactly led, by Seward, and the more moderate no-extension-of-slavery Westerners represented by Lincoln, a successful railroad lawyer and political failure: one term in the House of Representatives twelve years ago [the continued use of alphabeticalized years and time instead of numbers]; one lost race for the Senate two years ago; and now the Presidency.
pg. 8, conclusion, "quit while ahead" somewhat
[[Leaf 13, Page 25]]
19:13:00 – 19:16:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
Rivers of sweat trickled through my hair, down my arms, my legs, and collected at the back of my knees.
Even the thick jungle of palm trees in the distance [[there was only two asterisks on the left side of "thick jungle of palm trees" but made it three anyway to make it work]] seemed to be melting
pg. 18, interrupted
20:27:00 – 20:42:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
two-storey arrivals building... school with its yellow walls and cement details.
sound of the plane's engines charged our surroundings
As we walked towards the old frangipani trees that still edge the tarmac, the alluring scent of these moist white blossoms saturated the air.
still smell them today with that first breath of Bali [construction, phrasing, and meaning of "still... today" not yet as intentionally utilized]
Huge tufts of dark green leaves and a thousand small flowers hid [the use of "hid" as an interesting alternative to "embossom"] the gnarled silvery trunks that arched over us as we walked by [movement angle perspective inserted at end]
gentle patches
dappled shade [additional alternative, otherwise common] [[pushed to sub-list in accordance to comment during note-taking that read "push to sub-list"]]
relief from the intense sun [ [[I]] tend to avoid [[this construction, specifically "relief from"]]]
[[Leaf 13, Page 26]]
pg. 18, easier to switch things up to keep excitement
20:44:00 – 20:50:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
greeted with a hoot of laughter
breakfasting on the first Potomac shad of the year
Seward helped himself liberally to the shad's roe.
munched an apple
teetotaller
stout and rosy
a terrifying laxative called blue mass
healthy enough... if too lean; and he was strong as the proverbial ox; could lift from the floor, with arm outstretched, a heavy ax at the shaft's end.
pg. 9, big chew right after so stopped
20:54:00 – 21:00:00 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
cashmere shawls, leghorn bonnets
wolves... make away with our chicken geese and sheep
penning set me at penning up the ducks and chicken at night, and later on to put the sheep in the fold to keep them away [more examples of "away from" even if I have tended to omit the "away"] the wolves.
geese... raised principally for the feathers to make feather beds... wool from sheep for our clothes
pg. 31, interrupted because dinner time
21:11:00 – 21:30:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
Through the walls and door she could hear loud laughter and bottles knocking together and the
[[Leaf 14, Page 27]]
thud of something heavy hitting the floor
Leaning a little, she saw the two of them chasing each other down the hall like fools. [This whole scenario/scene is very oblique, the kind of ambition that could easily fail like the "pops and sheets" thing I did in Matthew]
clear, clean sound of bottles [[forgot to include "meeting" here right after this "bottles"]] [on top of "meeting" used for physical or inanimate objects, the use of "clear" and "clean" for sound at all in narrative writing, outside the music recording app Audacity]
like a game of homemade bowling was going up on up in the living room [not as abstract, but extended, reminiscent of my figure of speech in a draft of Peter the one I sent to —]
shotgun style of the house
squeaking springs [very rare context and, thus, use [[for me]]]
iron bed
baritone laughter [pitch applied to laughter besides decreased volume or emotionally tinged partiality [[like "mutter"]]]
loud enough to rattle the glass in her bedroom window [even more specific sound effect through local spatiality rather than looming, rumbling effects]
and then the sound of more bottles, rolling and bumping into posts or frames or legs, which, of course, led to even louder laughter, her mother's this time [continued here, attenuated with "led" clauses then sophisticated with "her mother's this time. [[forgot to include closing quotation mark]]]
kicked off the covers [specific characterful
[[Leaf 14, Page 28]]
action]
pg. 10, co natural conclusion
21:36:00 – 21:51:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
said... in a low voice [the use of "low voice" or "in a X voice" in general since I have tended toward brevity but could benefit from variety in style and prose in both these small modifications and in overall larger units and structure]
Seward sneezed; then blew his nose loudly in a yellow silk handkerchief [a modern use of the long comma in contrast to the assumption I've conceded into obeying about it being wrong usage—semi colon]
plug-uglies were planning to waylay you
interrupted Lincoln with the a wave of an unlit cigar
nodded gravely [continued use of emotional stating adverbs against what I've been taught and practised in longer form.]
stretched his arms until his back made a cracking sound [delaying "back" by specifying more precisely the arms and its movement toward a back crack culmination ] and, even in that, the use of "make a creaking sound" instead of the more "bullet" "cracked" ] for additional delay]
blew cigarat cigar smoke at the ceiling [what would [[spelled with b]] be the directional idle micro-action alternative]
pg. 10, doneness
21:53:00 – 22:06:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
clammin clammy stifling [adjective order and those non-parallel together, maybe for interest]
[[Leaf 15, Page 29]]
Journal Entry 6:56 [[April 25]]: You need sterility to know dirt.
smelt mouldy and mildewy [have managed to avoid "mildewy" unintentionally all this time inst despite internalizing a lot of its "friends"]
wandered out to collect our bags [not-direction into direction?] into an ocean of clove tobacco, dark bodies and sweat [collect into an ocean (metaphor) of clove tobacco, dark bodies (kinda figure of speech), and sweat, which is incredibly interesting a phrase altogether]
dressed in neat polyester flares that swam around his skinny legs and a pale blue batik shirt patterned with Indonesian motifs
April 25, 2026
07:05:00 – 07:06:00 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
Despite his lack of education, George had a sense that he might be special.
pg. 32, interrupted to eat toasted bread, the packaged one
07:12:00 – 07:17:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
Lincoln's voice was even. [have not used this despite the commonness of this use case, surprisingly.]
Lincoln smiled [the use of one-word action beats in that form of "subject-verb" as mirrored 5 pages ago on pg. 5 with "Lincoln laughed" preceding the dialogue that [[latter]] time]
said Seward, trying a different tack
pg. 10, interrupted for breakfast
07:31:00 – 07:49:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
Back on her bed, she rearranged her pillows and picked up her notebook. Sucking on the
[[Leaf 15, Page 30]]
last-knight last-night observation 8:08 [[written at this time, but observation and phrase recalled, paraphrased, and expanded from last-night]]: spires of sparkling glitters on water, frozen cauliflower like dark clouds a dozen meters away in that form of tree foliage while down in a tent and peering through the zippered ret [[wonder why I mistakenly wrote this?]] circular [[something crossed-out that reads like "met" here]] door
end of her pencil, she shut her eyes and thought of the crow she'd seen. High up. Cold. Hateful. She searched for those words again. Rummaged for verb and noun and adjective the way same way she used [[stray dangling asterisk to the left of this "used" with no closing asterisk in sight]] to search for silver buttons in the bottom of Luvenia's button tin. Seeing it finally, picking up the thread one more time, she bent again, and wrote:
From pirate porch of patient pine
a crow can watch gray meanness plait
long finger shadows
Cruel shades of curving. Crouching speck
of painful shade moving forlorn
in gold-brown grass
And laughing—
Her thrown-open door hit the wall with a bang, and then closed halfway, carried by its momentum into the lean of the room.
who always entered the same way—quick and loud and with an expression on her face that faded into slight disappointment the second she found Valuable writing or reading or drawing. As if she expected to find her daughter doing what she herself would be doing behind a closed door.
Light from the kitchen shifted half-way [[sic]] ""into"" Valuable's bedroom, shining ["shining" as to include [[something crossed out here]] specified hit after movement] on the lower half of things.
pg. 11, done and want to switch after natural more than natural, pay-off [[sic]] conclusion
07:51:00 – 07:59:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
[[Leaf 16, Page 31]]
A layer of sweet coconut oil kept his thick black hair in place so it framed his smooth round caramel-coloured face.
A single frangipani blossom was tucked behind his ear.
piled into the sparkling white Holden, our bodies gleaming with sweat.
drive from the airport to Ubud took us along busy bumpy narrow streets lined with the tallest trees* I'd ever seen, which formed [this classic ending "which formed"] a distant [[looks like three asterisks to the left of this "distant"]] canopy overhead*. [use of "distant" with "overhead" when I'm accustomed far from my location itself rather than vertical height and 'distance']
pg. 19, interrupted to drink banana shake with avocado
08:20:00 – 08:26:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
"As yet." ... The last monosyllable had its effect on both Seward and Washburne. [Very strange construction]
war-to-the-knife fellow
once when I was out on the circuit in Illinois.
Over the years, Washburne had heard Lincoln tell this particular story a dozen times; and the wording never varied [long comma 2]
pg. 10, nose-blowing interruption, and just ate lots of vegetables of green and orange with lean pork, so body is doing its gas waves and thrusts inside, not achy though
08:31:00 – 08:36:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
a master of the long, cumuletive [[sic; mistake by characteristically crude handwriting and not by misspelling]], funny story;
a maand many times Washburne had sat at the stove of some backwoods Illinois tavern
when the lawyers on circuit would compete story-telling and it was always Lincoln who won.
09:14:00 – 09:35:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
[[Leaf 16, Page 32]]
journal entry/last-night observation 8:14: ultra-complexity from hyper-realism, hyper-physicality, hyper-sensoriness, hyper-groundedness, hyper-naturalism resulted in classic Roblox's fun in blocks.
Once he had got a group to laugh at the first detail, he would then add, relentlessly, more and more wilder and wilder details until men choked with laughter as the easy tone or voice continued, with all due gravity, to make them positively drunk with laughter. [the kind of sentence I'd get banned at the stake for]
equally impressive as a speaker on those occasions when he was carefully prepared. But then, except as a humorist, he had no naturally very easy way with an audience. He needed a well-prepared brief. Washburne hoped that the grip-sack on the chair next to Lincoln contained such a brief.
the outgoing president... "A harmless old thing,"
don't think... can be held responsible."
gave us plenty of warning... And he was... And they did."
key to this particular tough look."
so-called Peace Conference has been in session for two weeks nowwith old President Tyler—the last of the Virginians—presiding."
"What is the mood?"
"Life that of most peace congresses—very warlike." [powerful dialogic emphatic clipped em dash use here]
studied Lincoln closely for some sign of intent. The face gave nothing away. [second intent-looking used to characterize.]
cotton republics—and their problem of slavery."
[[Leaf 17, Page 33]]
Lincoln smiled, somewhat weakly, thought Washburne
attacked a plate of fried oysters,
a delicacy unknown in the his early days, and all the more to be enjoyed savored at Washington City.
pg. 11, heat too much on [[top of]] closed trunk of car
09:39:00 – 09:50:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
had to crane my neck to see a patch of sky
Gracious Balinese people dressed in faded sarongs sauntered alongside, at arm's length [[there's two asterisks to the left of this "at" probably to close "at arm's length" since it was new to me as a form of preposition and measured distance, probably to encompass the following "from the car window" as well to capture the full essence of it]] from the car window.
Part of me wanted to touch them as we drove slowly by, just to make sure they were real.
We passed mud-brick grass-roofed cottages half-hidden behind ancient-looking stone gates, rows of gnarled frangipani trees studded with red hibiscus hedges, robust roosters [never seen robust used for animals perhaps outside of how much they can produce in terms of dairy] and barking dogs.
pg. 19, need to stop as we are about to leave to Starbucks
11:00:00 – 11:27:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
Bed. Low drawers of the chest. The bottom part of the stool.
Light halfway between in and out.
A door, halfway between open and closed.
And a woman half-dressed, inserted near the center of both.
[[Leaf 17, Page 34]]
a thrown-open door exposing a half-state woman Valuable could not imagine.
straightening, she did her notebook under her legs and folded her arms across her stomach while she glared at her mother.
first daughterly evaluation
existed in a "halfway state." Somewhere between here and there. Somewhere left of "center" and south of "whole." ... newly dead
newly dead, her red grave mound barely tamped, and without her grandmother around to check her math, Valuable had given the woman a chance to pull her parts together for a year or two and then she'd quit, discovering that her math, even as a seven-year-old, had been correct, after all. [this entire sequence and the above is effectively [[as in "virtually," not the other meaning, which would be "producing a desired effect"]] grotesque].
a red half-slip and bra...
hair was halfway between up and down.
Some swept up in a sloppy knot while the remainder trailed down her back.
Halfway between drunk and sober, she leaned against the doorframe for support with her arms hidden behind her, as if half her appendages were missing
Slow and easy, with half the toes on one  bare foot she kicked at the door, which was steady-creeping forward toward its latch because of the way things stood.
even her voice was half woman half child.
[[Leaf 18, Page 35]]
Men like it. Valuable had heard this latest one saying he'd give her a dollar five-dollar just to say certain things while they caroled in the room that that used to belong to Luvenia.
sound a bottle makes when it hits the floor and spills—that clunk and rush—came up the hall and Enid yelled out, Reilly, you make a mess, you clean it up!" [Besides the dialogue clause and its interesting idiomatic construction, the inventive use with the whole clause with em dash and the new sound effects]
She kicked at the door again and whispered, "He's such a clumsy fool—" while she walked toward her daughter, not as drunk as Valuable had thought, but still stumbly. [this em dash use is astounding, and the clauses continue to surprise me, especially with that terminating "still stumbly."]
pg. 12, need to switch for variety, got lots done
11:30:00 – 11:46:00 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
In a persistent way he learned to teach himself what he had not been taught in school and developed a capacity to listen and observe.
stagerobbed
I have travelled from the head of the river Fraser river all over Montana and Idaho
the only way I can account for it is destiny
such an accurate nose for minerals that the local Indians called him "Boy-That-Earth-Talked-To."
passed a grade school course of the Franklin County Mining School
[[Leaf 18, Page 36]]
never was happier than when prospecting or trading and buying lands [lmao]
often tramped barefoot through the back hills, his pantaloons rolled up to his knees, a stick or wand [?] in his hand, chasing hogs from their muddy baths on hot summer days, and cooling his blistered feet [cool] in the depths of the hog wallow.
hoped to stumble upon a rich vein [more clauses I'd never find myself using.]
discovering the Virginia lead mine [lead or lead, been wondering for a while now], the biggest [lead? leading? lead? rock?] lead? original?] in the state.... not much have such luck in the Missouri hills.
a poor parson
pg. 34, variety switch and pressure remove and break
12:07:00 – 12:26:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
Sitting down on the side of the single bed she bent forward and said, "Whew!" Elbows to knees, she appeared to be studying the grain pattern of the pine floor. Or her red toenails. Or something interesting down along the low edge of the bed.
Reclaiming hair that had fallen from its knot, she swept it back away from her face and fumbled for her tit.
Black bobby pins were clipped to her red bra like fork tines.
For as long as Valuable had known her—seven years now—Enid had worn them there, and until
[[Leaf 19, Page 37]]
growing small breasts and needing a brassiere of her own, Valuable thought all bras came that way, with their own supply of ten to fifteen bobby pins attached to the upper s upper side of a cup.
pg. 13, bloated in duration due to ongoing conversation with Dad at Starbucks, also due to cumbersome fullness of massive gold mine [[as in wealth from which to draw active notes]] here.
12:29:00 – 12:41:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
Giant shocking-pink [new color shade like in *Mother of Pearl with its many browns like Tea] bougainvilleas climbing over old mango trees laden with green fruit [more complex clauses with "laden" here this time], enormous ferns bathed in sunlight under fringed [this author loves this construction [[specifically "fringed," especially with "palm trees"]]] palm trees, and small roadside food stalls drifted past [I need to use these roadside stalls, they're a missing piece!].
tiny visible patch of cloudy sky was framed by a riot of pink, red and green [despite the strange construction here and there, the yield of inventive sensory constructions like here with "riot" is genuinely productive]
in between the tropical growth we glimpsed stretches of bright green rice fields, massive banyan trees, moss-covered shrines, black and white checked*umbrellas and **piles of small\sun-bleached offerings.**
Men and women washed in the shaded deep gutters that lined the streets [huh???], oblivious to passers-by.
pg. 19, faster, more variety!!!
[[Leaf 19, Page 38]]
12:43:00 – 12:55:00 Lincoln by Gore VIdal
you dream of empire for a government which has just lost half its military stations to home-grown rebels.
a gracious arabesque with his cigar
let the mosquitoes occupy those infernal [?] forts
"A border-state."
"A slave border-state."
"When I was governor of New York"—Seward was dreamy—"I used... [I've only seen this en dash use supported on editor articles on the internet.] Plus the genuine adoration shown by the author toward em dashes instead of clipped, fragmented dialogue [[specifically those series of short period-ended statements]].]
pushing putting down his second apple core [the use of finished result words in this case which I completely missed with food instead of the boring old "he ate X" or "he munched X" with modification of the verb since hyper-specificity triumphs over verb variety as compensation given limitedness [[empty space]] less direct connection [[half of this paragraph around the middle was erased due to a drop of water from my coffee drink and rubbing with the hand, but empty space can be translated to "of" and you would see the point I know I was intending to make before the erasure]]]
pg. 12, pensil pencil switch has been challenging
13:02:00 – 13:25:00 or 13:26:00 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
twenty-eight-year-old black slave, Allen
fertile Meramec River bottoms... rich Meramec River bottom land... early... he appreciated the value of land.
[[Leaf 20, Page 39]]
a mine- and large landowner in the area [weird hyphen construction here, looks stranded]
a busy commercial operation with a public house, blacksmith shop, garden, and other activities on forty acres at a trading crossroads [genuinely useful contextualized nonfiction resource for worldbuilding and realism and grounded economy, local business and trade, and logistics]
driving pork to the miners
smelting works owned by Frenchmen... used to mine
drove the hogs there
big merchants there that had every sort of nice French things
For a long time the miners would not wash anything but out but would let us little fellows pick away into the big banks of dirt and we would often thus make o from four to six bits [?] a day.
We would dig down and get little bits of lead.
ore was galena and limestone and a sort of clay.
a great deal of little nuggets and these would pan out about 70 to 80 per cent [just realized "percent" as in "percentage" came from "cent" and "per" themselves] galena
There was little to keep George in Missouri, scratching* out a living in the valley. [strange construction is it dangling?]
pg. 36, a break from pencil and ending at the end of a page, in the book, not here in the notebook feels so satisfying. ] Actually ended at both at the same time lol.
[[Leaf 20, Page 40]]
13:27:00 forgot to include end time, but probably 13:42 or 43 or so based on following entry's initial 13:44 start time, Lincoln by Gore Vidal
canvassing
yellow pantaloons
prairie statesmen
splitter of rails
'Tippecanoe' Harrison
"Seward's sly, Jesuit smile."
out-and-out abolitionists
Albany Plan
chief henchman [this use for a statesman]
unConstitutionally [the unique capitalization construction here]
Seward would be premier to Lincoln's powerless monarch.
slid his arm companionably through Washburne's
the door was doors were thrown open for the first breakfasters of the day—a horde of pale children, who shouted and wept as their grim-faced mothers herded them with pleas and cuffs to the buffet table.
pg. 14 need to walk, have my head tilt to level, and stretch, time slightly increased due to the last time being unended and assumed with a standard deviation from this note block's starting line by minus 2, so that'd be 13:25 or 13:26, maybe wrong use of that standard derivation thing.
13:46:00 – 13:53:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
moved to phone
What I wrote on the phone:
Enid picked one off while holding her hair back with one hand, and using fingers and teeth, pinned up her hair [complex micro-action movements in combination, a lesson]
Three moves. Fingers. Teeth. Fingers. Done.
Watching her, Valuable couldn't help but wonder which came first—the boob or the bobby?
Where had those black pins been stored before Enid had grown tits that needed support [kinda getting weirded out here but atp its kinda funny and the prose is good]?
Pinned and neat, Enid went side-down [???] on her daughter's bed, trapping her daughter's stretched-out legs under her. [WTF]
pg. 13, bro, it's getting too weird 
13:57:00 – 14:13:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
[[Leaf 21, Page 41]]
moving kaleidoscope of life and color [bruh, this construction has gone repetitive because of its overuse by AI, LLMs]
besotted
the slope above the Tjampuhan river [no capitalizing?]
cosy network of rustic [[stray dangling asterisk to the left of this "rustic"]] grass-roofed[favorite construction of author] bungalows wide with wide cool verandahs
Tjampuhan means 'meeting place' [okay, the British "cosy" and quotation marks are getting old!]
which wind lazily through [seeing present tense "wind" makes me wonder if "wind as in "wound" [[twist, turn]] came from "wind" as in "air" itself]
summoned by the call of the kul-kul, the traditional wooden gong with the male-like appendage [da hell?!]
gathered in the open-air restaurant overlooking a sprawling garden of brilliant flowers, flamboyan trees and ginger plants. [should use "overlooking" more for anything structural]
scent of coconut candles infused the air and provided a gentle light as we mingled with the guests. [need to use light, smell, as sound, and sensory agents like this with "as" human constructions like crowd-work "mingle"]
Balinese bamboo music drifted around us and tinkled down to the river.
a temple procession of the senses [continued creative sensory work]
pg. 21, natural conclusion
14:15:00 – 14:33:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
David Herold... bought a copy of the paper [*Evening
[[Leaf 21, Page 42]]
Star*] from the ancient Negro who had been selling newspapers... for all of David's nineteen years.
-
"He here!" said the old man, giggling. "He snuck in like a chicken thief."
overnight cars
a narrow, lead-coloured lead-colored, four-story brick house with a yard to one side, containing a wooden shack and a number of dispirited chickens.
An outside staircase connected the second floor with the street, permanently shadowing the ground floor.
From the second floor a pair of firm hands were pounding music out of a piano not entirely in tune.
The head of an eighteen-year-old girl appeared at the upstairs window. [this "the head of an" construction I would avoid like the plague, but here considering]
hurried up the brick steps [need to use "steps" as in these "stair-adjacent" ones more and also modify them with adjectives more]
crossed the flowered Brussels carpet ["cross" with "carpet," and country or whatever with "carpet" and the like, and just "carpet" in general]
huge cracked leather shoes
the actual picture that she was imitating in the window of Jarman's music store on O street [letter for street names or whatever this is], from an advertisement for Chickering's pianoforte.
pg. 15, rest pencil-worn hand
14:45:00 – 15:05:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
[[Leaf 22, Page 43]]
reached for the long strand hanging over Valuable's ear.
Her hand was smoothing the bed, working its way toward the hidden notebook. She pulled at its corner.
Valuable jerked it free and put it in her lap, hugging her knees. She kept the pencil clutched in her left hand, sharp end out as warning.
She was leaning against the wall wrapping a piece of her hair around her ear.
made herself sit still and stare at her mother's thin eyebrows. **Crows. Why, they look just like far away, flying crows. [this comma is weirding me out]
a truckload of pity
closed around her throat [one of my first and most enjoyed constructions, completely counter intuitive to me before [[in terms of having learned it during my time studying micro-actions as a first course treatment of my writing]]]
blue streak
a thick river of things halfway done between us
rubbed a casual palm around her knee
Applied invisible lotion across the cusp of a bone.
searching for leverage inside a sphere
—*Inside this thick river she drowns me with her casualness... [what is this construction called? feel I've seen it before [[here referring to the starting em dash]]]
pg. 14, a whole fiasco coming next in the book, the biggest treasure trove
15:07:00 – 15:25:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
[[Leaf 22, Page 44]]
putting it in her poised and posed hand
toughs [as a noun]
sneak through Baltimore
back parlor
No longer visible to the world, he was no longer part of it.
Now that Mr. Surrat was ill—dying, to give it the right word—Mrs. Surrat herself presided over the great wagon that brought the farm's produce to the Center Market, while Annie attended a Catholic seminary.
staid neighboring Virginia
anomalous ten-mile-square parallelogram [the use of this kind of word in any practical capacity] carved out of Maryland and bounded by the Pontomac [[sic]] River and Virginia
slumped on his spine
the black cloth of his trousers, he noticed glumly, was so shiny that [[two stray, dangling asterisks to the left of this "that"]] the dark dull February light [use of "dull" with "light" rather than something like muted or faded or dim, though the former two I never really used either] was reflected in its dark folds.
broken shoes were smelly to others [slightly indirect, wouldn't have found this out on my out [[sic; should've been "own"]], well, most words, things, for that matter]
pg. 16, get me out of here! I mean variety in active notes, not here in Starbucks, neck is doing the neck thing!
15:33:00 – 15:57:00 or 15:56 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
overland trek
panned with pick, shovel, and sluice
[[Leaf 23, Page 45]]
rich in gold-bearing quartz
quartz mills
placer mining... vein mining
alternated between mining and merchandising
times had so changed that we soon found there was no success in merchandising and we discontinued [in May 1852]
invested in and managed a Nevada City theater and lecture hall above a store
Chinese wash house
putting wet blankets on the gable... and keeping them wet [fore fire]
size of claims... if a man had a hundred acres, or five hundred acres, and another man went there and found mineral on it, the role was that he had a right to a certain claim there t and to work it, and that the price was regulated by certain conditions. [30 miles square the location where this was effective, paraphrasing from text]...If a digging were shallow and rich, they would cut you down to 14 feet square... probably some five or six thousand people in that section and out of them a great many went to California, and there scattered here and there and everywhere,
so there were enough of them to make their mark and improve the regulations in California where there were [a mouthful, kinda] no laws. [I wonder if California is like this rich people place because of golden mining.]
When a claim was dug you must do so with work every year, and make a statement to that effect.
found a rich gulch
40 men... swallow it up... not take my claim away
[[Leaf 23, Page 46]]
pg. 40, variety
15:59:00 – 16:06:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
I am a bitch of a bard, she wrote in her head, bold, brave,brimming with benevolences unless... unless... unless... bothered by (some "b" word, some word like "buffoon")...
Valuable stared at her mother's tits.
— bothered by bobby pins on a brassiere.
Bingo.
The force of it pushed Enid away from the wall.
She screwed up her mouth in one corner and Valuable saw her lipstick was smeared.
pg. 14, still too much, eat this part of book in chunks, hesitant ]
16:13:00 – 16:22:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
patterned tea-coloured sarongs, each adorned with a single brilliant red hibiscus flower
Frogs' legs, spicy pink fried rice, green leaves tossed in peanut sauce, a variety of satay, fruits poached in palm sugar and other unknown dishes
strolled past hundreds of busy ducks quacking in the rice fields, tended by sturdy, bare-chested farmers dressed in cotton sarongs tied between the legs like a baby's nappy.
wandered up the hill [so simple, yet so underused by me]
young women scrubbing clothes on the smooth gray grey rocks that line the water's edge [underused]
pg. 21, hand is not doing it anymore
[[Leaf 24, Page 47]]
16:24:00 – 16:50:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
phone
what I wrote on the phone:
hid his feet under the rocker...seldom bathed between Christmas and Easter
a not unpleasant [bro, double negatives] odor of moist earth mixed with tobacco smoke
prescription clerk
furniture shop
the tray untouched
put down the tray on a round table covered with green velvet where, in frames, the family pictures were ranged around a crucifix and a rosary.
a Southern city spang in the middle of the Confederacy."
picked up the rosary; idly, she fingered beads.
the Bleeding Heart of Jesus that hung over the fireplace
some Northern soldier-boys at the depot
piled up so many saddles, you couldn't get to the cars, through the mess
seceshers
dry regular cough of the dying man in the back parlor
Executive Mansion, known to those few Americans who were not addicted to the prevailing Latinate English of the nation's orators as the President's House or just plain White House.
two soberly dressed statesmen
iced-over, deep-rutted driveway to the main portico, from whose columns the paint was peeling; the glass of the front windows was streaked with dust.
looked about [use of this about in American English?]
Words are hostages to fortune.
short elderly Irish usher
doorkeeper
smiled, revealing few teeth, dark gums
mustry [[sic]] entrance hall and into the Red Room, just off the foot of the great staircase.
Red Room, which was true to its name but shabby withal
touched a red damask curtain from which pieces had been hacked
hurried—or flurried, thought Seward—into the room.
a tall man, with white hair and a twisted neck, which meant that his left cheek seemed always about to rest on his left shoulder.
One eye had a squint, which made the old man look as if he were winking slyly at you, as if his words were not to be taken seriously.
pg. 20, bruh using phone seriously toodle-oo!  
17:00:00 – 17:23:00 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
scribbling them down with a blunt pencil in one of the leather notebooks that he carried
picayune
mines... loaded with silver
cold beef jerky and cheap whiskey in dirty mining towns
he had struck pay dirt
black sulphurit of silver and... the gold was in that... breaking this up and throwing the rich silver away
sat on a log and played in the dust for 20 minutes
he would build a furnace and smelt it for $450 a ton.
silver, it looked so much like lead... no had not been refined
paying 25 cent a pound to get it over
we cleared out of that $76,000, and besides that we sold slags for several thousand more... $80,000.
Wheat was then 50 cents a pound
mule for... $400... let him browse around in the sage-brush
When the Indian war broke out I sold the mules, stayed until June and then started home, the snow was not off even then.
I went to San Francisco, left my traps there, and sold my mules
[[Leaf 24, Page 48]]
By the way, the Indians killed 65 out of a hundred at the two fights at Pyramid lake and another place.
This Indian war was playing the very Dickens with  us. It cost us a good deal and I had to sell some of my ground, but when I got back we started the mill again, and so I went on there mostly up to 1866.
the blasting of the mountains resumed at a feverish pace.
pg. 43, next!
17:43:00 – 18:02:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
Tropical Vines suspended over the cool water
Women effortlessly transported rocks the size of wheelbarrows on their heads, carrying them from the river bed to the road.
hold a pose and smile under a thirty-kilo weight of stone
delicate dreamy girls wearing brilliant pink, green purple and gold-patterned [is hyphen with purple assumed?] costumes and crowns of white frangipani flowers.
danced with curved fingers, flashing eyes and movements reminiscent of swaying palm trees
practise the sliding eye movements
balmy fragrant evening air and the pulsating sounds of creeks crickets
pervading beauty
wake up in a grass-roofed [bruh] bungalow to see the mist drifting across the Tjampuhan valley early in the
[[Leaf 25, Page 49]]
morning, behold the small bowl of pink and red hibiscus lovingly placed on our table before each breakfast, listen to birds chirping all day and smell the sweet scent of Bali.
pg. 23, Messenger message! Plus year keep things random and exciting and surprising! Slightly bloated/inflated [[referring to the time length of entry]] because when I went to tray return desk table station thing to throw the pencil sharpener trash as well as sharpen
18:28:00 – 19:01:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
seceders?"... "rebels"
Buchanan indicated four large doors to the left and two doors to the right.
led them down the dusty hall, whose only illumination came from a single large window at the living-quarters end.
Midway to the offices, th President showed them a sitting room, which followed the shape of the oval blue room below [funny that "oval" starts with an O]
room was bleakly furnished, with horsehair sofas and empty bookcases
A number of paintings hung on the walls,; but they were so darkened by time and dirt that it was hard to tell who or what they were of [misunderstood for a second and thought it said "who" as in who was it made of [[in a cannibalistic sort of way]]]
"This is our only *private parlor. Even so, the people barge in on you.
led them down the corridor to a wooden railing with a gate... he said, unlatching the gate.
Back of the railing was an empty desk and behind the desk, there was a waiting room lined with benches that
[[Leaf 25, Page 50]]
always put Seward in mind of a small-town railway depot.
Then here on the left the secretary's office, which is quite as large as mine, with a small room just off it, which is where Harriet [cool name!], my niece, keeps the linen.
Cabinet Room... half-dozen men who were seated at the green-blaize–covered [[sic]] [reminded of Green Satin poem and made me wonder where "satin" has gone in modern/recent language, also hey en dash being used this way, I miss you!] table
a large, bald-headed asthmatic man with steel-rimmed spectacles and an unpleasant sneer
stood very straight, his large paunch quivering slightly
Buchanan had now drawn Lincoln over to the window with its view of the southern part of the President's estate, bounded [need to use this word more given how useful I've seen [[sic]], probably particularly in this book] at the far end by the old canal, now an open sewer, and the Potomac River beyond.
In the summer, sir, the smell from that canal is absolutely unbearable,"
a little stone cottage at out at the Soldiers' Home
I spend the summers there and I suggest that you use it, too, if you don't want the fever."
staring at a pile of white marble blocks, at whose [is that "whose" with an object, I smell?] center the base of an obelisk rose.
Fact, he cut me dead."
pg. 22, hand [[referring to tired hand]], end of notebook [[referring to end of the page on the notebook where I take the active notes]] cause [[attributing cause of stopping an entry]], bend [[might be spelled "bend" but actually intended to spell "tend"]] toward
[[Leaf 26, Page 51]]
bottom likely
19:05:00 – 19:28:00 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
phone
what I wrote on phone:
old shopkeeping partner
advertising flyer
persuaded enough backers
steam whistle
first rise and fall of the twenty-four huge stamps in Paul's mill, the Washoe Gold and Silver Mining Company [mill being company?]
lean years
Virginia City, whose population reached ten thousand in only a few months by the winter of 1860.
numbered more saloons than any other business, plenty of hotels that rented girls as well as rooms, and the Territorial Enterprise, a newspaper for miners, whose most popular writer was Mark Twain, a drinking pal of George's.
an assemblage of two-hundred thousand young men—not simpering, dainty, kid-gloved weaklings, but stalwart, muscular dauntless young braves, brimful of push and energy, and royally endowed with every attribute that goes to make up a peerless and magnificent manhood—the very pick and choice of the world's most glorious ones. [excerpted from Mark Twain's Roughing It (1872)]
Fortunes were made and lost at gambling tables, claims were jumped at gunpoint, and life was tough and lawless in Virginia City.
While... heating up two thousand miles to the east, millionaires were made overnight in Washoe.
George himself had to hold on to his claims by force.
built forts in the area, one of which crossed the line into George Hearst's Ophir holdings
hired a Kentuckian... a known gunfighter, to run Terry off his property—which he did, convincing Terry that Hearst meant business
overland trek of six months
pg. 45, stop
19:32:00 – 19:44:00 Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe
waxy Blue Band margarine
lofty grass-roofed [lol] restaurant
sipped on Cointreau with [[my initial transcription interpretation of this "Cointreau with" without reading the book was "Cointrequnith"]] lashings of ice
glorious royal-blue-feathered pet peacock
smoke from their clove cigarettes framed them in a cosy mist
adorned with a heavy gold ring set with an unfamiliar creamy stone
slowly edged the ring off his elegant finger and placed it in the palm of my hand
po pg. 26, mostly written with left hand to give right hand a break
19:52:00 – 20:22:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
small brick War Department was surrounded by thirty loud geese
Together the two men crossed the frozen mud field [more frozen mud, yey!] that was Seventeenth Street, where stood a large building with no guards at all, not even geese.
Lincoln's response was sharp. [why would a Harold Bloom–endorsed book have this deconstruction dialogic construction, which I've been taught is a [[crossed-out unfinished one letter that looks like "h" here]] grave error, like
[[Leaf 26, Page 52]]
terrible!]
bejoweled, red face was huge and mottled; a spider's web of tiny purple lines had netted the nose.
an elaborate uniform of his own design, gleaming with gold braid and massive epaulets
Like a glittering mountain he stood now before a painting of himself as the hero of the War of 1812.
As Lincoln entered the room, the general waddled forward; they shook hands beneath a painting of Scott conquering Mexico in 1847.
Scott eased himself into a throne that had been designed for a very fat man to get in and out of with e relative ease.
as the old man said the name, the red face darkened [this too!? I'm finding a lot of "banned" constructions used here!]
ferule [?]
a m motioned to an aide, who set up a map of the Union on an easel.
Scott then picked up a ferule that lay beside his throne and pointed to the various military establishments throughout the South.
sat on the edge of his chair
now this sallow-faced man, sprawled in an armchair, knees working their way to his chin
cut the old man short
sat bolt upright.
gestured with his ferule [this feels almost
[[Leaf 27, Page 53]]
childish lol]
Scott paused for some response from Lincoln but there was none beyond attentiveness. [this again? lol]
Scott continued without, as it were, the looked-for sign.
Scott, signless [?] again, proceeded to divide the South with his stick [changing "ferule"(?) to "stick [[sic]] makes this even more clearly playful, if not childish, lol!]
Scott paused. Lincoln slowly straightened up.
pg. 26, yahoo going home in a while after Dad shops at mall supermarket.
20:27:00 – 20:40:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
[ok, this is fucked up!] She reached out as if to touch her and the hand fell short [is this also that adjective thing, a s result thing, a separate idiom, or both?] and landed on Valuable's thigh [[crossed-out line here, might be bracket, replaced with comma]], curiously warm. [eek! ew! wtf!]
Valuable pushed it aside with her pencil's eraser [this is too hyperphysical for such an eeky scenario!!!]
Her hair was falling again and she was slouched over, crimping her flawless white stomach
clutched her pencil [honestly, a lot of these are new not by words in a vacuum, but by combination and unique, hyperspecific, modifying context]
Everything here is a day, she thought.
The day the dresser had been lowered from the attic.
The day the chair had been reupholstered in rose damask.
[[Leaf 27, Page 54]]
-
The day the chifforobe had been taken apart and polished with "paste wax" until it gleamed like gold
pg. 15, bruh give me a break, this book contains so much cool phrases that I hav really have to stop early just to get away, not because of the fuckuppery in this case, though it is such in practically all cases and the only reason I stop is that I get invested in that kind of shit.
20:45:00 – 21:03:00 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
reduce 4 tons per day by the Veitch process
uttering "alleged seditious language"
mosquito-ridden jungle
seven made-to-order silk dresses, one for each of the day of the week, in different colors and in Phoebe's size, were delivered to her
gazed When the ship carrying the Hearsts sailed t through the Golden Gate, Phoebe gazed at the few lights twinkling from San Francisco's hills rising to the right... the Bay.
golden hills inland
sending truckloads of her hand-me-downs, jewelry, and shoes
wide open town Lincoln was President, Victoria was Queen of England [could be useful construction for when shared C universe with Matthew and Mark, etc.]
wide open town
waterfront along the waterfront
gingerbread houses rising on the hills above the Bay—Nob, Russian, Telegraph, Rincon
[[Leaf 28, Page 55]]
pg. 53, going back to —
April 26, 2026
06:10:00 – 06:47:00 Lincoln by Gore Vidal
The weak sun had now vanished behind what looked to be snow clouds
corner of Pennsylvania, as usual crowded at this time of day.
Carriages and cabs cluttered by while the horse carriages rattled on their tracks, bells sounding
said Lincoln, watching the traffic
"No war—so far."
stepping up on the brick sidewalk that led past ["led" with "past," new to me] the iron fence of the White House, where he would soon be quartered—caged, was more like it, thought Seward. [this consistent use of Seward's corrections or modifications or interpretations signalled by em dashes [[forgot to put closing bracket here]]
The sidewalk in front of Willard's Hotel seemed to hum and throb
and John Hay felt as if he were still on the cars, as he made his way through the crowd of people—mostly colored, he noticed [I see the correction thing occupied only be Seward is still a habit with other characters, though adding rather [[than]] corrective]—who were on hand to get a look at Mr. Lincoln, who was not visible; unlike
unlike Mrs. Lincoln, who was, as well
[[Leaf 28, Page 56]]
as the three Lincoln sons, the six lady relations of Mrs. Lincoln's [the possessive here is strange to me], the two John Geog George Nicolay (born twenty-nine-years ago in Bavaria; moved to Illinois as a child; grew up to edit a Pittsfield newspaper)[I knew this parentheses construction worked! I limited it to my journaling. But seeing here proved and even made a list with more than semi colon on topis rejuvenating, vindicating, and expanding, making me feel free and be freer in narrative fiction writing. Oh please let me. I'm so excited!] and John Hay himself, aged twenty-two, a graduate of Brown who had been admitted to the Illinois bar exactly two weeks ago, thanks, in parts, to the fact that his uncle was Springfield's leading lawyer and an old associate of lincoln; thanks, again in part, to the fact that his uncle was S Hay had gone to school with Nicolay, Lincoln's secretary during the campaign for the presidency. [Thank god for this very revealing sentence in terms of craft, though had to queue my whole comment reaction over the course of glacially transcribing it, letter by letter, word by word, line by line!]
brilliant, hard-drinking William Herndon [this whole "this guy is this guy in this ongoing, active present-narrative kinetic crowd, and here's his whole relevance to Lincoln, brother-man. Might start practicing this since was taught against it and in favor of total presence with day skips next day skips, which is powerful in its own right either way.]
Small, wiry, handsome [consistent use of this, perhaps some in one of the other three books I've currently working
[[Leaf 29, Page 57]]
with besides this current one I'm taking notes of; also would never use this ever on a person of this stature, this list of descriptors, to a lot of degree "small", but definitvely "wiry" and to insane degree "handsome," both of the latter two of which are absent in my current ongoing novel that's around 13,000 words or so or more.]
pg. 28, let's re keep it on a breezy pace, morning is cool and breeze—the latter not true actually, making the expanse of dam and its distant towering walls of green feel "vast-less"
06:53:00 – 07:08:00 Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes
Over the dresser, high up on bearded board, were her pictures of horses
Some sketched on days it rained
Others cut from magazines on days it was too cold to go outside.
Equine-themed days thumbtacked and prancing around her mirror
To the left, draped over a small wooden rod, was the quilt she had begun the summer Luvenia died. [at this point, I don't even know, haha—]
Twelve squares in red and white and blue.
A fledgling version of Prize winner.
Luvenia had had her copy the pattern on those days her chest hurt and her legs swelled up and she couldn't walk [don't know what this past perfect "had had" is for, but maybe for "super long ago" or dramatic effect]
With her feet propped up on three plaid pillows
[[Leaf 29, Page 58]]
she had called out instructions while Valuable cut out the flag-colored cloth, making a solemn promise to show Valuable how to slip-stitch the hem when the day came for finishing.
pg. 15, eh. I'll wait for food, almost done I think: adobo breakfast cooked by Mom
14:29:00 – 18:13:00 or 18:12 The Hearsts by Judith Robinson
Five major fires had virtually destroyed the city between 1850 and 1851, and the fire department held great political power in the city.
It was, in fact, a town in which traditional rules of democratic government were waived in favor of raw gold- and silver-laden power grabs.
It was a vulnerable city in which political control was directly related to the speed with which needs could be met—fighting fires, paving streets, constructing fire-proof buildings, controlling "undesirable" social and criminal elements
Vigilante groups governed the city
San Francisco thirteen... a Mexican village thirteen years before the Hearsts arrived.
But by 1862 it boasted the largest building west of the Mississippi, the Montgomery Block, built in 1853.
Montgomery Street had become a thriving "Wall Street West" with the newly formed (1862) Stock and Exchange Board.
Gas lamps lit the stone, plank, or mud streets, 
[[Leaf 30, Page 59]]
pretentious buildings of granite from the Sierra Nevada rose in the commercial district, sand blew unmercifully from the dunes west of the hills during windy summers (Golden Gate Park had not yet been built to hold down the dunes), and rain turned the streets into mud wallows in winter.
But the city had taken on a look of permanency.
It had survived a bank panic and depression in 1855, and by 1862 silver speculation on the Comstock Lode was booming along Montgomery Street.
a city with a polyglot population: Americans, Spaniards, French, Italians, Germans, Austrians, Chinese, British, Irish, Australians, a few blacks, and American Indians—all reflecting large waves of migration caused by economic depressions, revolutions, or famine in other parts of the world.
California Indians... murdered
Chinese immigrants... a "problem" in the port town
1862... reported... thirty thousand men and five thousand women... actual population... close to one hundred thousand.
twelve daily newspapers
a number of theaters in several languages
at least two literary magazines (Golden (Golden Era, 1852–98, and Hesperian, 1858–63—founded by women)
hotels, cafés, saloons, boarding houses, dance halls, whorehouses, and restaurants.
More coffees, tea, champagne, and cigars
[[Leaf 30, Page 60]]
were consumed in San Francisco in those days than in Boston, an and the ladies' degrees [[sic; should've been "dresses", wrote the wrong word even if my mind was on the right word, strange]] were fashionable.
at least forty bookstores, a thriving activity in trading of used books, and several libraries and book publishers.
We bore around the point towards the old anchoring-ground of the hide ships, and the there, covering the sand hills and the valleys, stretching from the water's edge to the base of the great hills, and from the old Presidio to the mission, flickering all over with the lamps of its streets and houses, lay a city of one hundred thousand inhabitants. [excerprted from Two Years before the Mast by Richard Henry Dana.]
no backwater town
its exotic hustle and bustle
stepped ashore and made her way down a long wharf, clutching her husband's arm
a city seized by silver fever
silver boom... spring of 1860
[/ The news of silver was]/ borne on the wings of the wind from the Sierra Nevada, wafted through every street, lanet, and alley./././ whirling around the drinking saloons, eddying over the counters of the banking offices, scattering up the dust among the Front Street merchants, arousing the slumbering inmates of the Custom-House./././ Nobody had any money, yet everybody was a millionaire in silver claims. Nobody had any credit, yet everybody bought thousands of feet of glittering ore./././ All was silver underground, and deeds and mortgages on top, silver, silver everywhere, but scarce a dollar
[[Leaf 31, Page 61]]
in coin. [excerpted from a work by [[crossed-out letter looks like "P" here]] J. Ross Browne (1821–75)]
San Francisco was a month from New York by passenger ship and four to six months by cargo ship.
It had begun to develop its own industries—banks, a mill to make cloth from California wool, sugar refineries, foundries, a silkworm farm, watch factory, carriage factory, rolling stock factory, and a furniture factory.
winter of 1862... the eve of construction of a transcontinental railroad that four Sacramento storekeepers (Leland Stanford, Charles Cracker, Mark Hopkins, and Collis P. Huntington) and a visionary engineer (Theodore Judah) had pursued to reality despite opposition from steamship and stagecoach companies
Congress approved the Pacific Railroad Act in 1862, giving the "Big Four" large federal subsidies, huge land grants, and federal loans at 6 percent for thirty-year bonds.
In January 1863, the road bed started up the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada from Sacramento. Phoebe would travel that road bed many times.
The harbor on the nation's western edge was filled with clipper ships and other vessels, many of them abandoned by gold-seekers and used as foundations for wharves and buildings in the booming town.
walked along the busy bustling wharf into the noisy city—the biggest port and the only city west of St. Louis.
arrived in California in a plain brown dress with straight brown hair... adorned in lace, pearls, and curls.
a beautiful nineteen-year-old girl with deep humid eyes, black hair, and the exquisite features of a Burnes-Jones painting.
[[Leaf 31, Page 62]]
It was an interesting face, gentle, serene and lovely, but even then, at the age of nineteen, there was amazing strength and straight-eyed thinking at in the picture. [excerpt [[uncredited]]]
She did, indeed, have a determined look on in her wide eyes.
ornate Lick House... the grandest hotel in town with 204 rooms, although it was only three stories high (there were no elevators). And it boasted a new attraction in San Francisco—a bridal suite—which
the hotel was covered in trompe l'oeil—its exterior and interior walls were painted to simulate various kinds of marble or fancy wood [[there's a period here in the notebook when there shouldn't; might have not bothered to scratch it off]]—the three-room bridal suite was a Victorian sensation unmatched in San Francisco.
Its parlor featured carved rosewood furniture, wall-to-wall carpeting to match the brocoded upholstery and curtains, a white marble mantel, gilt rococo mirrors, and two crystal chandeliers decorated with cupids.
The big beds were covered with white linen and had soft and downy mattresses.
apartment-hotel
dressmakers
the shock of the transplant far from home to entirely new surrounds
not overly oveconcerned about William Randolph's religious persuasion, instruction, or ticket to heaven.
Irish Catholic governess... wet nurse
carried his great, gangling frame
preferred listening to talking and was taciturn in
[[Leaf 32, Page 63]]
company, his mind often seeming far away.
sit at a long dining table crumbling bread with his long fingers, thinking of faraway places and fortunes
Robert Turner, the Hearsts' butler for thirty-five years, would brush away George's crumbs and bring him a fresh piece of bread, and George would continue crumbling, unconscious that his supply had been refurbished
He favored pork spareribs and hominy and string beans with two strips of bacon.
His appearance has been described as—
./././ tall, erect, rugged, with a broad brow, a well-formed high head, a striking aquiline nose and a long, graying pioneer's beard. He was slow-moving. He always wore a slouch hat down over his eyes, and on his feet were high-topped boots. He usually wore a cutaway coat, and occasionally, with great reluctance, he appeared in a frock coat. [excerpt]
"in his stocking feet, carefully carrying his boots in his right hand while his left hand supported the regulation crooked cane. He looked neither to the right nor to the left, but glided through the apartment like a ghost, to the intense amusement of guests the guests.
'inveterate tobacco chewer," became animated "in congenial company, he scatters the extract of the weed somewhat promiscuously over his shirt front.
When he let himself into the bright and elegant gathering, he stood somewhat dazed as a hush fell on the party. Phoebe rushed over to hustle him out of sight and begged him to change into a fresh shirt.
[[Leaf 32, Page 64]]
-  -
- "Thrusting his hands in his breeches pockets [no possessive]—a habit of his—and drawing himself erect, he said in a voice loud enough for the company to hear: 'This is my rance, and if these here folks don't like my shirt they can go home, it's time for folks to be in bed, anyhow, and I'm gwine thar,' and he steadied himself up the stairs to his apartment [this colon dialogue combined with whole independent sentence is novel to me.]
She had running charge accounts at the best stores, servants, a comfortable home, a small child,
water stock
Travel was tedious (there were no railroads yet running from San Francisco to the Sierras and East), and he stayed for months at a time in Nevada, Utah, Idaho, and later South Dakota, Montana, New Mexico, and Mexico. Political activities would keep him in Sacramento, the capital, for long periods.
In all the letters, his handwriting wasis crude, the spelling phonetic, the punctuation nonexistent. His penmanship is erratic, growing sloppier and running off the page toward the ends of letters, possibly as candles burned down and whiskey bottles emptied in his tent or cabin somewhere in the mountains. His letter paper was whatever happened to be at hand—plain, lined pad paper or stationery picked up from hotels or businesses.
Between visits to mines and saloons during long stays at Virginia City, George no doubt read the Golden Era, a gold rush literary journal that catered to miners, and the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise, which entertained
[[Leaf 33, Page 65]]
the Comstock Lode crowd under the pseudonym bylines of Mark Twain and Dan De Quille. Their aim was "to keep the universe thoroughly posted concerning murders and street fights, and balls and theaters, and packtrains, and churches, and lectures, and highway robberies, and Bible Sosocieties...and the thousand other things which it is in the province of local reporters to keep track of and magnify into undue importance for the readers of a daily newspaper."
Exposure to those literary efforts did not improve George's ability to write legibly.
the "Union League" have already arrayed their batteries against it
$400 million in ore
Stock was traded on silver speculations
The San Francisco Stock and Exchange Board, whose forty members were informally called "the Den of Forty th Thieves," and the San Francisco and Pacific Boards of Brokers rang daily with names of the silver mines—Ophin, Yellow Jacket, Kentuyck, Crown Point, Chollar-Potosi, Savage—and "feet" of Comstock claims were traded to the gambling populace.
Silver stock was used foras payment for bills; grocery clerks became millionaires overnight or lost their entire savings.
William C. Ralston, a former steamboat clerk turned banker, who cornered the market on Comstock accounts and bankrolled some of the San Francisco's early buildings, derisively referred to the Comstock Lode as "a hole in the ground with silver and gold in it." George Hearst had opened the hole, and he and Phoebe were raking the profits in.
[[Leaf 33, Page 66]]
Hearst avoided being swindled in the great stock manipulation craze that had resulted from the Comstock.
He scribbled notes and addresses, figures and dimensions and rough maps in his leather notecases, the names of people on the left and the numbers of feet of their shares on their the right; he even wrote bets ("Geoff Beach, 312 Front St., San Francisco, [/Asbury]/ Harbending bets Roberts 100 that [/he?]/ sells for 9, Shoshone County, Idaho Territory, July '64").
He listed his supplies:
1 canteen
1 hammer
4 lbs. tobacco
Meat
1 blanket, 13–20
pick and shovel
1 gold pan
1 paper tax
Dry Beef
He made notes to himself ["Take affidavit from Joe Hall"] and took orders for goods from the city:
Mrs. D. H. Hall, Eureka, Nevada.
1 small suit for winter for a girl, 6 years old
1 winter hat for same
1 ladies hat.
Going down the Backbone grade at night, our lead horses fell and brought the swing team down, all foru were under the wheel. Horses in a [tu [/turmoil?]/, kicking right messily, the passengers were out of the Stage quick and caught
[[Leaf 34, Page 67]]
the horses, setting all right in a few minutes. No damage, a little scare and some benefit, as the little episode furnished a st [/stop?]/ to the fast driving the balance of the route.
His old mill at Steamboat has been burnt since he left.
incorporation papers... for all the claims as yet are unincorporated.
stopping the imbibing of all Spurs Spiritous beverages, and going it alone on lemonade
Santiage shaft is done 35 feet, the rock getting softer and like the hanging wall of the Santiago mine... also thickly stained with colors incidental to that mine.
cut the ledge in two places and find first rate ore on the surface.... send a little of it down to you.
think your good fortune must yet be in the ascendancy
preparing the incorporation papers and will send them down in a few days.
The travel is so great now, seats home to be engaged 4 or 5 days ahead.
Gold Cañon./././ was now one continuous line of sawmills, quartz-mills, tunnels, dumps, sluices, water-wheels, frame shanties, and adobes././././ The main thoroughfare, cleaving to the old emigrant road, was flanked on both sides by brick-brick stores with iron shutters, hotels, express offices, saloons, restaurants, and groggeries.
The very walls of the Cañon were riddled and honeycombed with shafts, tunnels, and dumps [[the "p" here in this "dumps" looks very much like a "b"]]././././
[[Leaf 34, Page 68]]
Throught Through this main artery rushed a strident current of sound—mingling of horses horse, mule, and ox, hissing of steam, clatter of machinery, and the whine of bullets. While above all soared the shouts of bull-whackers, mule-skinners, and the angry shriek of the Washoe zephyr—an uproar continuous in volume././././ Over mountain and vale, cañon and ravine, mine and mill, night and day, hung dense clouds of swirling smoke and alkali—from which continually sifted powdered dust././././ Everything you touched gritted with it.
By 1863, the business part of "C" Street presented the distinguishing features of a great metropolis—an old, black, iron-faced city, doored and shuttered by great sheets of painted iron. Streets were lighted by gas jets on iron standards. The principal stores, saloons and hotels were ablaze with illumination [funny-ass word]. Large and substantial brick houses, four and six stories high, lined the thorought main thoroughfares. Everyone of them disported a wide balcony, surrounded by black-painted iron balustrades, providing the walks beneath with a continuous, dark, irregular arcade, providing the second-stories with a gallery upon which French windows opened and iron stands filled with geraniums stood
sometimes the little wife was [[sic; should've been "would"]] pack a bag and go along on horseback, up the steepest trail, riding over the wildest mountains, happy all the way, interested, eager, never tired, never out of spirits. She loved the supper of bacon and pancakes, cooked on the prospector's fire in his lonely cabin, or, better still, better still [the use of "still" instead of "yet"], smoking hot from a campfire in the deep woods on the edge of some terrifying gulch
[[Leaf 35, Page 69]]
[this word, need to use it].
leathery, tanned cheeks and whose eyes held the far-seeing look that penetrates rocks and earth.
pg. 68, going home from —
April 30, 2026
09:56:00 – 10:32:00
Cane River by Lalita Tademy
The added heat from the blazing cookhouse fires made Suzette's dress stick to her as she worked the paddle of the butter churn.
cookhouse
swamplands
eight slave cabins in the quarter
hummed as she worked, her tune deep, slow, and plaintive
the same slurry rhythm that everyone else from the house used
pronounced carefully, wrapping her lips around the word, hoping her French sounded as refined as Oreline's, imagining her words flowing as smoothly as those she had heard this morning at the church.
Sanctuaire
sat behind a row of gens de couleur libre.
the long ride in the wagon pressed between Oreline and Narcisse Fredieu
broad bell of St. Augustine above the vestibule
the shimmery waves rising off the sun-baked tiles on the gabled roof, the brightly colored glass. But mostly the clutters of people. White, colored, Negro, free, and slave, all dressed fine, all in one place.
top hat was silk
closed her eyes to bring back the images of the morning
slip off her her shoes and walk, with the rich Louisiana soil under her feet and between her toes, and carry back a pail of fresh cow's milk without spilling any, or bring in more wood for the fire, or father green beans from the big garden to string and snap later.
cooking or preserving or flavouring
compare Rosedew with the plantation
had an upstairs, a downstairs, and thick white columns in the front
separate servants for every task, and each one of them had assistants
big house on Rosedew was slung low, a one-story house of wood and brick frame, stuccoed in white, and topped with a long, sloping roof
Beneath her madras tignon, Elizabeth's broad, dark face was streaked with a mixture of sweat from the heat of the cookhouse fires and a film of fine white flour from her morning baking.
The sleeves on her long calico summer dress was pushed up above her elbows
old leathery burn marks on the brown skin of her mother's arms from her many years as cook
from boiling kettles and the big smoky fireplace and sizzling skillets
sunup to sundown
evening meal of ground cornmeal and their ration of bacon
A handful of meal, a little water, a pinch of lard, into the ashes to cook
Saturday, after half-day labor, the quarter came alive with each household for working their own patch garden, washing clothes, trading gossip, and bringing back fish or game along with stories of how they had caught it
Children mixed at will, white and black, broadcloth and homespun, nearly masters and nearly slaves not yet fully grown into their roles.
coppery brown, small framed
wild mane of springy black hair couldn't decide whether to stay down or curl up, so it did both, and his face was so smooth that he didn't have to shave like the other men.
swept into the cookhouse, the silk of her pale green visiting dress rustling
heavily corseted build was typical of well-fed Creole ladies, and her fading brown hair had been darkened with coffee-groujds water and upswept in calculated curls.
Both her pointsd nose and chin were inclined slightly, and her feet were nestled in black high-top shoes with leather-covered buttons.
eyes still on the worktable, hands never stopping her rhythm.
with skin the color of day-old grits
chicken and tasso jambalaya, sweet-potato pone, green beans, cala with the gooseberry preserves... and peach cobbler
10:32:00 – 12:14:00
Dirt Music by Tim Winton
spotty blue haze
kneeling at the end of the pool
with her head against the tiles
faint in her sister's shadow
mouthed the tepid, tootling hymns familiar from school
upholstered pew
As the coffin descended through the marble floor, a handkerchief appeared in Georgie's lap and she looked up, startled, to see Josh lean back into place beside his father.
the hanky – she'd once ironed it into its little square – but she'd never seen it leave Josh's drawer before.
the crematorium filled with the sound of Barbra Streisand.
sat on her narrow bed with it's dire pink coverlet
the river glittering through the boughs of the lemon-scented gums
The flame tree was twice the size she remembered.
suitcase with itt sticker scabs, the rucksack and crates of souvenirs and knick-knacks.
Poster tubes, boxes of LPs, the stereo
On the little desk the piles of postcards and photographs and a jambiyya dagger which Jim drew from its scabbard, to gaze solemnly along the blade the way men will.
the shelves with their rows of tentbooks.
Patterns of Shock, Key to Psychiatry, Oncology for Nurses and Health Care Professionals (in two volumes), The Lippincott Manual of Nursing Practice.
thick and hard as hospital mattresses and probably long-outdated.
On the wall were framed photos that her mother must have put there.
Georgie in school uniform with the Charlie's Angels hair she had before she hacked it off and dyed it purple.
Her in the Saudi desert somewhere with camels, her eyes like postal slots against the glare.
And her in a miniskirt and Oakleys on the hood of a convertible in Baja California.
shamateur
neat lawn verge and waved like a relative.
Before they'd rounded the corner she turned for the house but was ambushed by the sprinkler system.
About eight that evening she was sitting by the pool with a tall glass of mineral water and a few citronella candles when Ann came down the steps in her heels.
The night was stifling hot and the garden heavy with the scent of frangipani and the stink of chlorine.
sat at the table, their legs lit by the pool and their faces by the candles whose murky lemon odour rose into sweeter smells overhead.
As she uncrossed her legs Ann's stockings crackled with static.
11:29:31 – 11:38:58
Cane River by Latlita Tademy
could not smell the peaches hidden in the pantry.
Their aroma still lingered in the air of the cookhouse, competing with the sharp yeast smell of the starter sponge for cala they had concocted the night before, holding the promise of the rice fritters to come.
She had peeled the potatoes for her mother and had been careful to watch how Elisabeth combined the boiled potatoes, cornmeal, flour, and cooking soda and left it in the night air to ferment before mixing in the boiled rice to make the sponge.
the flour, eggs, butter, and milk, the stiff batter to beat, the dropping of the calas by the spoonful onto the blistering skillet.
the ham and one jar of preserves
with a slight nod of his her head.
walked a few steps toward the doorway and then turned back
tone had a scolding edge
peach cobbler
spent half of that night cleaning up
stood to her full height, the butter paddle still in her hands
words fell into the damp, dead air and hung there
Each of the three stood rooted in the cookhouse, the white woman's lips reducing to an astonished slim line, the black woman's face turning in on itself, her eyes closing briefly, and the suddenly uncertain little cocoa-colored girl letting her arms fall limply to her side.
A fly buzzed sluggishly toward the open doorway
eyes flickered hot
turned, took three quick steps toward Suzette, and slapped her hard with her green-gloved hand across the right side of her face, fingers spread wide
At first her tone provided no opening, but then it softened.
A single plump tear stood perched on the high ridge of Suzette's cheek, refusing to drop to the red outline below where Madame had slapped her.
Elisabeth reached over and with her broad thumb pushed the wetness away, leaving a thin trace of white flour in its place.
11:38:59 – 11:56:00
Dirt Music by Tim Winton
packed everything she wanted from her old bedroom into Beaver's ute and drove down through the dress circle suburbs to the river at Crawley
an old bloke dive from the jetty and set out in a gentlemanly crawl across the shining water
In their pens the boats [?] at the yatch club were a scene from a Sunday painting, their masts a thicket of silver and white.
The mad, ploughing reach in from Rottnest.
arches and ovals of the university
the river betwen the date palms
At the old Swan Brewery site the Aboriginal protesters seemed to have packed up and gone back to their camps.
Around the bend the commercial district loomed.
old fruit stand
A houseful of books.
The chooks fluttered from beneath the house when she got out.
blood ticking in her throat, and saw that it too was bolted.
On the verandah table a couple of riverstones stood in the dust left by mosquito coils.
clump of casuarinas
took up a stone and pitched it out into the paddock and then followed up with its companion
Tiny, taunting pats
a tour of the sheds and the riverbend
pop off to the shops
the squalid remains of her night in the spare room
the exercise bike and the recliner-rocker that was forever about to be re-upholstered
a plastic bag of something in the sink
Took the boys trolling for tailor
skippered
watched the big boats snuffle up to their moorings bronzed and silhouetted by the westering sun.
the dry white skin on her knees
rinsed his hands and wiped them
huge and brown they were, how burled with scars
snob-factory school
Georgia closed her eyes. She felt the sun find her there on the sofa, its heat creepin down her face to her chest.
She wouldn't have been surprised to discover that in its glare her bones showed clear beneath her skin.
lobbing up to the empty farmhouse
withering homily
The skin peeled off her sunburnt arse and gave her a shabby look that, as the fog began to thin in her head, she began to see as emblematic.
deepwater run
get to his lines and each pot lay in darkness at the end of a rope the length of the Eiffel Tower
winching crays from touristic depths
sat out on the terrace and watched trucks come and go from the jetty, bait trucks, live trucks, freezer trucks
Some trucks were piled high with coils of range and yellow rope.
May 8, 2026
10:52:00 – 11:43:25
Kafka's The Castle
sleep on a bag of straw in the parlour
a warm corner
letting his weary eyes stray over them he soon fell asleep
his eyebrows strongly marked
half raised himself [without hyphen]
smoothing down his hair [basic, but helps to remember]
guttersnipe manners
laying himself down again and pulling up the blanket [instead of "lying down"]
turned over on his side towards the stove [weird indirect construction, maybe should use it]
a telephone in this village inn
The door into the kitchen had been opened [passive, indirect, even past perfect, very not my stylistic groove]
blocking the whole doorway stood the imposing figure of the landlady [Kafka likes these constructions: see the "letting his weary" note]
sleeping clalmy on a bag of straw with a minute [?] rucksack for pillow and a knotty stick [?] within reach
he crawled right underneath the blanket
pricked up his ears [seriously even here? thought this was a modern bad no-no-don't-do-this-shit]
they expected to cow [?] him by their lofty superiority... it made his skin prickle a little
waved off Schwarzer [need to use this body language action more]
all the men flocked out with averted faces
lamp was blown out
slept deeply until morning, scarcely disturbed by rats scuttling past once or twice.
The landlord sat opposite K. on the rim of the window-ledge [good blocking, new prop], not daring to take a more comfortable seat, and kept on gazing at K. with an anxious look in his large brown eyes.
cross-questioned [sounds so modern to me, but hey, guess it's here even, but so are many "cross-" words]
a dark portrait in a dim frame on the wall [need to use portraits more given fantasy's setting allows for it]
it was only a plain back to the frame [construction]
the bust portrait of a man about fifty [need to stop using "years old" maybe]
His head was sunk so low [you can really feel the "wases" here, lots of passives] upon his breast that his eyes were scarcely visible, and the weight of the high, heavy forehead and the strong hooked nose seemed to have borne the head down.
Because of this pose [where are my commas?!] the man's full beard was pressed in at the chin and spread out farther down.
His left hand was buried in hs luxuriant hair, but seemed incapable of supporting the head.
said the landlord, drawing K. a little towards [this extra "s" is grating me] him and whispering in his ear
gave the landlord a tap on the cheek to heaten him and awaken his friendliness [not just in a stylistic way, but in most stylistic contexts, even this is strange]
soft and almost beardless face of his
through a small window bustling about the kitchen with her elbows sticking out
the brilliant winter morning
glittering air, its outline made still more definitve by the moulding of snow covering it in a thin layer
the heavy snowdrifts reached right [the frequent use of "right" with positional and directional prepositions] up to the cottage windows and began again on the low roofs, but up on the hill everything soared light and free into the air, or at least so it appeared from down below.
neither an old stronghold nor a new mansion, but a rambling pile consisting of innumerable small buildings closely packed together and of one or two storeys [is this the spelling?]
one tower... dwelling-house or a church
Swarms of crows were circling round it [this use of "round" that I see everywhere, bruhhhh!]
wretched-looking town, a huddle of village houses... built of stone, but the plaster had long since flaked off 
17:58:36 – 18:09:41
Featherstonhaugh's Excursion Through the Slave States
fine bottom land
heavy crops of corn
dark-coloured vegetable matter
mixed up with fragments of old land-shells, helix, paludina, anculotus, and a prodigious quantity of planorbis
in consequence of the presence of carbonate of lime.
ditching a part of this fat land
take out from a depth of about six feet the cranium of an ox
salt springs and wild grass [coupled together]
several animals of that race at the mineral spring here
strong bed of anthracite coal
did not disclose the thickness of the vein
limestone lies very near to it
and not far distant there was a mineral spring of sulphuretted hydrogen rising through a pyritous slate.
Farther to the south, there is a lofty hummock, or hill, exceedingly steep, entirely composed of rich ironstone, which we left the road to examine [moving out of the road to check something offroad, which I have not yet written]
road ran for four tedious miels to the top, near which we found a delicious [the frequent use of delicious for water that isn't drank] spring of cool water with a large trough [?] to receive it, and here we washed and refreshed ourselves [need to start writing these washing-oneselves-in-the-wild shit]
view from the summit is extensive [have yet to concretize and make explicit summit views and give specifics the same as here] is very extensive, presenting many distant ridges on each side densely covered with the foliage of the unvarying [interesting term] forest, but without the vestige of the labour of man, except at the very top of the mountain
where, owing to there being an extensive deposit of clay, a small pottery has been established for the purpose of manufacturing eartenware.
kept a small tavern [the use of "keep" here rather than all the other terms I often see instead such as words like "owned"]
Usually at such places [creek] there is a passing-place made of squared timber for foot passengers, but here we could find none, 
and in the exceedingly faint starlight, that disclosed things but imperfectly, we were quite uncertain which was the ford [interesting that they struggled to see where the ford was, this level of darkness in traveling being totally unincluded in my fiction writings as yet]
18:10:46
Bartram's Travels Through North and South Carolina, Georgia..
scabrous whitish cortex
destitute of aculea
fascicles of barbed bristles
The female of this insect is very large and fleshy, covered with a fine white silk or cottony web, which feels always moist or dewy,
and seems designed by nature to protect them from the violent heat of the sun.
polypetalous flowers
very large pear-shaped fruit, of a dark livid purple when ripe
May 9, 2026
11:38:18 – 12:07:18
Karen Joy Fowler's The Jane Austen Book Club
two portable heaters
porch hummed cozily
Indian rugs and Spanish-tile floors of a red that might hide dog hair
porcelain lamps in the shape of ginger jars, round and Oriental
lamps were on timers
wall held a row of photographs
dynasty of Ridgeback's, surrounded by their ribbons and pedigrees
doe eyes and troubled, intelligent brow
stagnant-pond smells
rose and walked stiffly to the screen door, her ridge bristling like a toothbrush
wood-lore badges
teepees of kindling
dust and spiderwebs and crumbling floorboards
restaurant eating
she'd been traded for shirred eggs.
lullaby voice, low, yet penetrating
eyes were round as pebbles
Light poured like milk over the porch.
Several large winged insects hurled themselves against the screens, frantic to find it, follow it to the source.
This resulted in a series of thumps, some of them loud enough to make Sahara growl.
she circled three times, sank, and rested her chin on the gamy toe of Jocelyn's shoe
hovering on the edges. Casting its shadow.
His eyelashes dropped to his cheeks
taller and thinner, with a prominent Adam's apple and glasses that turned to headlights in the sun.
had better shoulders and a nice smile but a fat ass
breasts pointy at first, but now rounding
two-piece bathing suit with egg-cup shaping
toss... taking her to full stretch, and she spun the ball into the service court
accusing people of foot faults in a friendly game
movements were crampled and tight
wrap a towel around her waist and remove it only to slip into the water
liked when they stared; she felt the pleasure of it over her skin
touching her under the water, where no one could see
swim down to put his head between her legs and surface with her knees hooked around his shoulders, the water from her ponytail streaming into the cup over her breast
pulled the knot of her top loose... caught it just as it began to drop
lay on a beach chair reading Russian novels and drinking Coca-Cola
tell how many she'd drunk from the maraschino cherries lined up along her napkin
girl-ask-boy
strapless sundress to wear... strapless bra
white shirt and a sports jacket
Glass torches lit the pathway to the clubhouse, and the landscape flickered.
rose wreaths and pots of ivy animals.
air cool and soft, the moon sliding down [dunno how I never thought of this, it's so awesome yet so simple simultaneously!]
wouldn't take off her cardigan
lounge chairs
wasn't wearing stockings and her legs were cold
smell her own Wind Song perfume mixing with the chlorine
Music floated over the pool.
sat down on the end of her chair, making her blood skip.
The only light around them came from under the water and was blue.
He was turned away, so she didn't see his face, but his voice was full of contempt.
gripped one of her ankles hard enough so that the next morning she had a bruise where his thumb had been
He slid the other hand up her leg.
His fingers grabbed at her panties, pushed them aside.
She felt the slick surface of his nails.
His finger found its way inside her.
He shifted his weight until he lay over her.
He was wearing the same ay aftershave her father had worn.
"Bryan?" His girlfriend's voice, over by the clubhouse.
playing on the turntable
Bryan slid his finger out, let go of her.
He stood, shaking his jacket into place and smoothing his hair.
He put his finger into his mouth while she watched, took it out.
walked down the watery path through the torches and out to the road.
The roads twisted and had no sidewalks and were surrounded by trees. Jocelyn started home.
wearing sandals with one-inch heels
She's painted her toenails,
and in the moonlight, her toes looked as if they'd been dipped in blood.
Already there was a raw spot on the back of one heel.
Whenever she heard a car coming, she stepped away from the road and crouched until it passed.
The headlights were like searchlights.
in the beam of a passing car, suddenly she didn't recognize anything.
At the bottom of the hill was a crossroads she never came to, and now she was going up
no street signs, no houses
Finally she found a small gas tstation, which was clouds, and a payphone, which was working. [interesting parallel construction]
She smiled and her lips waned.
her fingers laced and was fiddling with which thumb should be on top.
sat with one foot resting on the other knee. His leg was bent in two like a chicken wing.
Only a man would sit that way.
barking steadily... a long enough pause between outbursts to trick us into thinking each was the last... barks were frayed—deceptively, cunningly weary. What fools we were, poised there above our books for a silence that would never come.
12:09:15 – 12:28:17
Ben Okri's Infinite Riches
Is history the converging dreams of many millions of people, living and dead?
Have I just died and am I now living in another zone?
Are we asleep all the time?
When we wake, is it to one level above the deep sleep of our days?
room was flooded with a subdued green intensity
smell of herbaceous earth
forest darkness compacted into corners of the room
green were alive, its own light, contracting into an unmistakable form – was the leopard.
eyes... like blue jewels.
phosphorescent, spreading no shadows
green radiance glowed, filled out the place
plunging the room into night
brushed past me
white flowers all over his body
went from place to place, stirring the spirits of the dead
wandered from one sleeper's house to another
Rattling their roofs
Grimaced into the blind faces of dreamers
Roamed around the kitchens clattering the cooking utensils
Out in the open air, he glowed in the dark.
he drifted up into the air, and hung in mid-space
near the silver mountains
stood with her mother beneath an Elysian sky
staggering down our street with a bucket on its head
faces was completely wrapped in cloth, except for the eyes.
bottomless coffers
staggered past the houses
smell of his bucket altered our dreams
on mattresses that would be transformed into palatial beds, the future rulers of the nation breathed easily
a wave of darkness washed me to an island
someone appeared at our door, stinking of a crude perfume made from the bitter aloes of the desert
looked thoroughly scrubbed
stank of carbolic
Wrinkles were deep on his forehead [this construction I only see rarely yet haven't used despite seeing it enough times for it to occupy a space in my head]
candle was alight on the centre table
dressed like a prophetess
wore a white smock, white beads, white kerchief and a fish-patterned wrapper
face was shadowed as if her spirit were conserving its energies for the trials ahead
her basins of orange, mosquito coils and soap
went down the street, in the direction opposite Madame Koto's bar.
Breaking the settled crust of the sleeping earth with her antiquated sandals.
Soaking in the dust and murmurs of the road
he grew heavier on the bed, our door was wide open
as if many women had fallen into trances and were possessed
street was crowded with neighbours and new people with odd faces
dane guns and machetes
19:43:44 – 19:51:57
Thoreau's Walden
tucked away in an old chest, or
in a stocking behind the plastering, or, more safely,
in the brick bank
vegetable-made bones
a knife, an axe, a spade, a wheelbarrow
lamplight, stationery
May 10, 2026
14:12:00 – 14:18:00 The Boleyn Inheritance by Philippa Gregory
Picked out mud and lichen, the carving says, "London 120 miles."
hold out a paper, sealed with the Howard crest deep and shiny in the red wax
my plain kirtle and the dust of my h on the hem of my gown, my hand stained with dirt from the London milestone.
20:17:23 – 20:36:33
Featherstonhaugh's Excursion Through the Slave States
down we sat on the beach and stripped to it, and entered the steam, which was about 150 feet wide.
refresh our feet exceedingly, which were somewhat bruised and chafed.
a tolerable night's rest
walked 25 miles since eleven in the morning, over a very rough country.
sulphuretted spring near the house
asked the proprietor to divert the course of a brook which ran too near to it, for, being at a higher level, the waters of the brook mixed themselves with those of the spring, and not only diluted it, but brought its temperature down to 52°.
great limestone valley running west from Harper's-ferry
ferruginous slaty sandstones towards the top, we found large elliptical nodules of ironstone embedded in concentric circles, some of which were three feet long and twelve inches broad.
took a sketch... conical peaks on the summit of an adjacent ridge,
which were separated from each other by deep sulcated depressions coming down its side:
these showed a bright green foliage of hickory, maple, chesnut, and other deciduous trees,
whilst the ribs of the ridge on each side of the depressions showed nothing but dark green evergreens of the fir kind.
clouds partially covering the cones of these peaks
whilst the sun was gleaming upon their sides
contrast between the foliage and the evergreens and the summer-leaved trees
a fine large cock pheasant [/tetrao cupido]/, as they are called here, with his crest and whiskers erect, was strutting about in a wild way and clucking like a hen.
pouter pigeon
cuck-a-ra-ra voice and a strong wing,
and flew across the dell with great velocity
opulent-looking plantation
with a very respectful mansion-house, 
surrounded with a stout limestone wall
some fine specimens of products
principal street of this straggling village is very narrow
a great bustle of lawyers and country-people
Constitution... forty different ways of interpreting it... Jeffersonian doctrines.
loquacious disputants
thumping his hand upon the table, he exclaimed with energy, "By / / */, before I'd let any man hurt the Constitution a hair's breadth, I'd blow old Virginia sky-high!"
upon a road where the mail ran, we booked ourselves in the stage-coach, and started the next morning over an execrable road of knobby limestone, stopping a short time at Botetourt Springs, another name that reminded me of colonial times.
mineral water of sulphuretted hydrogen, not much dissimilar to that of the White Sulphur.
Tinker's Mountain, whihc has a singularly symmetrical saddle-formed shape
limestone districts
well-watered country
next ascended to a poor sort of town
we crrossed several branches of the Roanoke River, which empties into the Atlantic Ocean.
table-land, not at all cut up by ridges and valleys
the descent to this steam rather rapid, 
and the river broader than any we had passed
being about 200 yards wide.
On this watershed
early grey of the morning
a camp of negro slave-drivers, just packing up to start
three-hundred slaves with them,
who had bivouacked the preceding night in chains in the woods
one of those coffles of slaves spoken of by Mungo Park
nine waggons and single-horse carriages
pg. 159
20:38:51 – 21:02:09
The Boleyn Inheritance by Philippa Gregory
still as a block, a smile stuck on my face, my eyes wide open
borrowed jewels
the painter's quick, sweeping strokes of the crayon
my brother who wrestled him into his chamber, locked the door from outside... gave out that he had a fever
duke of these lands sheltered between the rivers of the Meuse and the Rhine
majordomo
spinster parasites
threatens to lock me in my room
indicates to me with one curt nod of his head that I can leave my seat and my sister can take my place
who leans back as my sister bustles forward, take a fresh sheet of paper, examines the point of his pastel crayon
whose nose he has measured with his crayon held at arm's length with one eye squinting
piece of fustian laid out for the pattern
asked me gruffly as my smile faded when he looked at me like a piece of meat on the cook's draining slab
sit in the window seat, hot in my best clothes, constricted by a stomacher pulled so tight that it took two maids hauling on the laces to get it knotted,
and I will have to be cut free when the picture is finished.
watch Amelia put her head on one side and preen and smile flirtatiously at Master Holbein
plumper, prettier than me
look out of the window, into the courtyard of our castle.
The hunting horns sound in the forest outside,
the great barred gate swings open,
the huntsmen come in, my brother at their head
glances up to the windowand sees me before I can duck back
castle yard
I am tightly laced and that the square neckline of my gown is low cut, though a muslin neck piece covers me to my very chin.
flinch from the scowl that he shoots up to the window
used to call me his falke, his white falcon, his gyrfalcon, a hunting bird of the cold northern snows.
saw me at my books or at my sewing, he would laugh and say
pg. 10
21:02:12 – 21:21:42
Karen Joy Fowler's The Jane Austen Book Club
her lovely mobile face joy
moon shone down unimpeded, but its time was coming
Out over the fields the air was beginning to seep
Between barks we heard the sound of a distant train.
was instantly on his feet
sitting in Mr. Parker's class only two rows apart
It had begun to cloud; the match stopped and started and stopped for good
Ten minutes after they left the courts it was pouring so hard that Tony couldn't see.
He pulled over to wait for it to ease up.
still sweaty from the match, and he kept the heat going for fear she'd chill.
The car steamed like a teakettle, the windows coated so no one could look in.
write with his finger on the glass.
I love you, he wrote. Again and again. All over the driver's-side window and above the steering wheel.
rain clattered on the roof, bounced on the hood.
Silence inside the car and the din without.
weather hadn't let up, and the windows were still sealed with steam.
drive again anyway, inching forward, peering throuhg the I love yous written above the dash. They were already filling in. He accelerated.
could see nothing of the road, only the road sliding by in sheets. They was a crash of thunder right above.
accelerated again. The car tipped as he left the shoulder, righted as he straightened.
squeezed into the door on her side, holding on with both hands/
barely dressed—short, short tennis skirt, sleeveless shirt cut away from the shoulders.
Tony singing, the heater puffing, rain and more rain. Thunder.
He tasted of breath mints.
made everyone a bowl of oatmeal. A nice basin of gruel, she said.
slices of Kentucky bourbon cake, both lemon and creme de menthe squares, and almond crescent cookies
neither too thick nor too thin, too hot nor too cold.
frowning and fetching his jacket.
took two almond crescents for the road.
Even her unkempt hair was suddenly sternly unkempt.
took a tiny, affected bite of oatmeal
tragic rainy-day car crash
her voice had a pinched sound
a puppy on the doorstep, in an orange crate, with a big bow threaded through a card that said "I belong to Jocelyn."
The handwriting was unmistakable when you'd seen so many samples of it in the condensation on a car's windows.
puppy was of mixed parentage, white and curly-haired... he stood on his hind legs and balanced, his front paws paddling in the air.
When Jocelyn picekd him up he went straight for her face, sticking his tiny tongue up her nostril.
let his knee fall carelessly against her legs.
Hostess cupcake and a hard-boiled egg
holding out his fingers for a good chew
at opposite ends of the couch so the puppy could race over the flowered surface between them.
tried to lecture on the class issues in Ibsen's An Enemy of the People
deep inside the fog now, floating in the warm, bright porch as if encased in a bubble
crawled closer to one of the heaters and lay with her head between her paws
see the stitching of her spine, rising and falling with her breath.
cottony peace outside we heard the stream rinsing and spitting.
gave us coffee in cups painted with tiny violets.
passing among us with the cream
When she nodded, her glasses slipped ever so slightly down her nose.
O
the weather was so lovely Jocelyn's mother suggested a picnic.
pg. 30
May 11, 2026
12:20:00
a scratchy plaid car blanket
ate chicken legs fried
while wrapped in strips of bacon,
and finished the meal by dipping fresh berries in sour cream and brown sugar.
so happy he blurted at the edges
ran up the seesaw and did not weigh enough to tip it until the very end.
downward plunge
jumped straight into Jocelyn's arms
but two seconds later, completely recovered,  he wiggled his way loose, grabbed a leaf in his teeth, and raced off, dropping it only when he found a dead robin in the grass.
pick up the bird with a paper napkin and put it in the trash, where it lay on a half-eaten ham sandwich and a moldering apple.
never touched it, but its weight in her hand was so—well, dead—so stiff but rubbery, and the black eyes were filmed over a window slick with steam.
went to the restroom and washed
On the wall someone had written "Ride the train" in blue ballpoint and drawn a locomotive with the name of Erica on it, and then a phone number.
lit a cigarette and was breathing smoke out of her nose as if she intended to stay to the bitter end.
wore these slippers at home
and some evenings just the sound of them shuffling in the hall was more than Jocelyn could stand.
feel so dirty now, because I picked up a dead bird, but a dead bird is exactly what we all eat for lunch."
Her mother tapped the ash loose.
watched her mother's face
Everything slid downward.
put out her cigarette.
packed up the picnic things and left
Jocelyn turned, but Sylvia wasn't even meeting her eyes.
chewed through Jocelyn's shoelace as a gesture of forgiving and forgetting; he was so fast Jocelyn hadn't noticed it was happening.
had to limp to Daniel's car in order to keep the shoe on.
drove her home, Pridey standing on her lap with his little paws barely reaching the window, his breath making a small, sticky cloud on the back of Jocelyn's hand.
mother's chicken fried with bacon strips
words came from a distance... just now sinking in
came to a standstill at an empty intersection.
odious Elton
now late enough that the heaters never cycled off.
hummed and puffed
those of us seated next to them were too hot, the rest too cold.
No coffee remained but the nasty bits st the bottom of the cups, and the creme de menthe squares were gone—clear signs that the evening was coming to an end. Some of us had headaches.
Bernadette was settled back in her chair, her belly mounding under her dress, her feet tucked up like a girl's.
had taken yoga for years and could put her feet into some astonishing places.
a stain if unbleached by nobility or wealth
Her pale, polished cheeks were delicately flushed.
went steadily on.
My very favorite bit is about the strawberries. Mrs. Elton in her hat, with her basket.
She thumped through the pages.
The relevant corner had been folded back, but so had several other corners; it was little help.
in all her apparatus of happiness, her large bonnet and her basket
Strawberries, and only strawberries, could now be thought or spoken of a... "delicious fruit—only too rich to be eaten much of—inferiorbto cherries..."'" [Wow, behold, the famed triple quotation stack]
read us the whole thing
a wonderful passage, though quite long when done aloud.
She'd already bought a dress, a tiered, lacy, off-the-shoulder silver thing
brought a date, one in a series of boyfriends and lasting no longer than the others, but immortalized in the wedding pictures—raising her glass, standing with his arm around Jocelyn, seated at a table with Jocelyn's mother, the two of them deep in serious conversation.
what Jocelyn noticed most was how resisting she'd been. She saw, as if from above, her own inert body in the strapless dress and thin cardigan, reclining on the lounge chair.
The suggestion that Bryan should have been made to face consequences came at her like an accusation. She should have done something. Why hadn't she put up a fight? The whole time Bryan was fingering her, she was still hoping to win his good opinion!
No one else blamed her. Culturally programmed passivity, they said. The fairy-tale-princess imperative. But Jocelyn grew more and more humiliated. There were two women in the group who really had been raped, one of them by her own husband and repeatedly. Jocelyn felt she'd made a big deal over nothing. With her silence, she'd given Bryan s power he didn't deserve. She wasn't about to let some frat-boy asshole have a thing to say about who she was.
Who was she?
"What's wrong with me?" she asked Sylvia later.
It wasn't a question for the group. "The simplest thing. Falling in love. Falling. Why can't I do that?"
"You love dogs."
Jocelyn waved that angrily away. "it doesn't count. That's too easy. Hitler did that."
She didn't go back to a fourth evening... done with feeling ashamed.
a lobbyist in Sacramento, for an Infian tribe, a wild-river group, and the Japanese government.
Politics, he said, was a foot-to-mouth occupation.
May 16, 2026
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
on a bus
16:26:00 – 17:01:00 White Oleander by Janet Fisch Fitch
Out the window, the glow of the Hollywood sign was slightly blurred with June fog, a soft wetness on the hills raising the smell of sage and chamise, moisture wiping the glows of dreams.
brushed her hair pale hair smooth, painting the air with her violets
crossed her arms and pulled her dress over her head, kicked off her high heels
cloven hooves peeping out from under his pants
two of us in the round mirror on the wall, our long hair down, our blue eyes
fishing in cold seas, the smell of cod, the charcoal of our fires, our felt boats and our strange alphabet, runes like sticks, a language like the ploughing of fields.
fine lips turned into long commas of disapproval
white hair, like unbleached silk, flowed through the boar bristle brush
had drummed it into my head
taking the brush away from me and brushing my hair now, bearing down on the scalp hard.
[[Leaf 1, Page 2]]
17:25:00 – 17:40:00 Sovereign by C. J. Sanson
a little moonlight penetrating the half-bare branches
thick with fallen leaves
the horses' hooves made little sound
A wretched track
bone-tired, my poor back sore and my legs heavy in their heavy riding boots as stiff as boards
lifted a hand from the reins, and felt in my coat pocket for the Archbishop's seal,
fingering it like a talisman and remembering Cranmer's promise
had had five days' hard riding northwards since then,
the roads in a bad state after that wet summer of 1541
rode into wild country
where many villages still consisted of the old longhouses
people and cattle crammed together in hovels of thatch and sod
left the Great North Road [leaving a road, something I haven't touched on yet]
road... turned to mud [not "into"?]
as night fell we had left 
[[Leaf 2, Page 3]]
-
it for a drier track that veered to the northeast,
through thick woodland and bare fields
where pigs rooted among the patches of yellow stubble.
woodland turned into forest [transitioning geography]
picking our way throught it.
pg. 2
17:47:00 – 18:39:00 White Oleander by Janet Fitch
I saw him too, four rows back.
He waved at me and I waved back, low
dragged me out fast
the courtyard of an old hotel on the strip
heat of the day
bare dresses, my mother like a moth in white silk
quickly loaded my purse with things that I thought could stand a few hours unrefrigerated—crab claws and asparagus spears, liver in bacon—...piling a plate with shrimp
the shrimp in his chubby fist
his brown shirt pulling at the buttons over his stomach
icy winds
[[Leaf 2, Page 4]]
apartment pool and swam slow quiet loops under the local stars
bent over her drafting table, cutting type without a ruler in long elegant strokes
a perfectly straight freehand line
making a my Chinese tree out of benday dots and wrong-sized photo stills
When I glanced up, he caught my eye and put his finger to his lips, crept up behind her and tapped her shoulder.
Her knife went slicing through the type.
showed her something that stopped her, a small envelope he put on the her table
opened it, removed the tickets, blue-and-white.
stared at them, then him,
jabbing the sharp end off her X-acto into the rubbery surface of the desk, a dart that stuck there for a moment before she pulled it out.
a gamelan concert at the art museum
Had he hidden in the oleanders outside our apartment
Forced to wait, my mother makes small jerky movements with her arms, her hands.
women in bright summer silks and a shifting bouquet of expensive perfumes eyed her 
[[Leaf 3, Page 5]]
critically.
The gamelan orchstra was twenty small slim men kneeling before elaborately carved sets of chimes and gongs and drums.
Then more entered the growing mass of sound.
Rhythms began to emerge, expand, complex as lianas
closed my eyes to watch tiny dancers like jeweled birds cross the dark screen of my eyelids.
apartments with ugly sparkles at the front and dead leaves in the pool,
the audience folded its plush velvet chairs and pressed to the exits
sat in her chair, her eyes closed
the parallel channels twining and tunneling through her cortex like coral.
ate a tuna out of a can while she wrote a poem using the rhythms of the gamelan, about shadow puppets and the gods of chance.
the summer I was twelve. I liked to wander in the complxe where the movie magazine had its offices.
a 1920s courtyard with a streamline-moderne ocean liner in the middle occupied by an ad agency.
sat on a stone bench
and imagined Fred Astaire leaning on the liner's brass veil, wearing a yatch yat yachting cap and blue blazer
Along the outside ring of the brick-paved 
[[Leaf 3, Page 6]]
courtyard, fantasy bungalows built in styles from Brothers Grimm to Don Quixote were rented by photo studies, casting agents, typesetting shops.
sketched a laughing Carmen lounging under the hanging basket of red geraniums in the Sevilian doorway of the modeling agency, and a demure braided Gretel sweeping the Germanic steps of the photo studio with a twig broom.
long-legged in their hip-hugged pants and diaphorous summer dresses, with their clear eyes and sculpted faces
The heat of the day never touched them, they were living in another climate.
tiled doorway of the Cinema Scene* staircase and I closed my notebook
leaning on an old goln Lincoln with suicide doors
bright plaid jacket
setting herself in the front seat, putting on her seatbelt.
climbed behind the wheel
picked up the freeway on Cahuenga, drove north out of Hollywood into the Valley, then east toward Pasadena
The heat lay on the city like a lid.
sat at the base of the San Gabriel Mountains, a sheer blue granite wall like a tidal wave.
Bright banks of flowers and perfect green lawns breathed out a heavy perfume in the smoggy air.
walked a little ahead of
[[Leaf 4, Page 7]]
white shoes and green polyester
pg. 20
18:40:00 – 18:57:00 Picture You Dead by Peter James
drizzling autumnal morning
a banknote on a busker's mat
confident gait, well-lunched face and stout frame, in his Savile Row three-piece chak-striped [[sic, should be chalk-striped]] suit, handmade shirt, and salmon-pink-and-green-striped Gerrick Club tie
a rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper
small, ornately framed landscape in oil, ten inches wide by twelve, of a spring scene.
young lovers in elegant eighteenth-century dress, entwined in each other's arms in an idyllic woodland setting surrounded by daffodils, with a waterfall behind them
sharply attired man, with the darting eyes of a feeding bird, twitching forehead and strobing smiles
from the surface craquelure, the spots of mold mould and seal on the back, the damages to the frame and its general condition
Cursing and making a mental note to call the gate people in the morning, he lowered his windows and reached out to the panel to punch in the keycode manually.
crashing whack from an iron bar
blood oozed from the back of his smashed skull to the tan - [maybe hyphen acting as em dash] with contrast cream stiching - Connolly leather headrest.
[[Leaf 4, Page 8]]
19:03:00 – 19:39:00 Secret in Her Kiss by Anna Randol
untangled the simple knot in the cravat in his throat.
The words rumbled from his chest
unfastened the top button of his shirt
His heart hammered under her fingers, and she pressed her palm against the spot
swayed forward... kissed his neck
He shuddered, and she felt the movement to the tips of her toes.
swallowed roughly.
His finger traced the edge of her bodice.
The last of his supply barrels thudded in the weathered rowboat.
leather-faced sailor tugged at the edge of his knit cap.
cast off the thick rope securing the boat to the dock.
The oars scraped along the side of the boat, then dipped into the water, trailing ripples behind as the sailor rowed the supplies toward the navy frigate anchored in the bay.
flicked his hand, scattering two seagulls who'd settled on his trunk.
perhaps a bit lowering to be loaded after the salted beef... the wharf rats.
drew a deep breath.
docks of Ostend stank... stank of fish and
[[Leaf 5, Page 9]]
filth.
He inhaled again. But the breeze didn't reek of decaying human flesh covered in lie [[sic, should be lye]].... didn't carry the screams of the wounded.
For a fewhours, he was on leave from hell. No graves to dig. No armies to scout. No enemies to kill.
growled to himself, frightening an old beggar woman seeking alms or pockets to pick or perhaps both
tossed the remainder of his money into her chipped clay cup
hand tightened on the smooth leather hilt of his sword, worn down until he could feel the cool metal underneath.
leave death buried with the corpses of his fallen men in the muddy fields of Waterloo.
rubbed the grit from his face and withdrew the creased paper from his pocket.
jaw clenched as he read that final line for the hundredth time.
He crumpled the paper and threw it with the harbor.... The sentence had burned itself the his mind.
why hadn't he sent her farther away? She'd be better off in the wilds of India than with the bastard she'd married.
A large ebony coach rattled to a halt in front of him, blocking his view of the ship.
Bennet tensed, his hand again sliding to the
[[Leaf 5, Page 10]]
sword of his waist.
coach door opened
jaw locked out of that nasal voice.
climbed into th dimness of the coach.
smiled at him, the expression stretching the soft, pasty dough of his face.
pulled the glasses from a compartment in the wall of the coach.
poured some brandy into his glass from a silver flask
as the general moved a sheet of paper from a folio next to him and smoothed in on his lap
hold the page at arm's length
hi The general nodded and his jowls bounced enthusiastically.
pounding ache built at the base of Bennet's skull.
butterly was still just a glorified insect, albeit skillfully wrought in ink.
held the drawing up in the hazy square of afternoon light that [maybe should use more "thats"] filtered through the thick glass windows.
delicate creature poised on a branch and looked, for all the world, asf as if it would flutter away at any moment.
twisted the paper from side to side
smiled smugly
lowered the paper
[[Leaf 6, Page 11]]
fingers dug into indents into the noose.
laid the drawing flat on his knee
traced a small section of lines near the tip of the wing.
reached under his seat, pulled out a large glass magnifier, and held it over the drawing.
under the enlargement of the glass, miniscule lines came into focus, lines that unmistakably outlined the specifications and defences of a military fortification.
pg. 5
May 21, 2026
17:47:15 – 18:22:34
Bartram's Travels Through North and South Carolina, Georgia..
the leaves are generally somewhat cuneiform, fleshy, and of a pale whitish green, both surfaces being covered with a hoary pubescence and vsiculae, that when pressed feels clammy, and emits an agreeable scent
the ascendent branches terminate with large tufts or corymbes of rose coloured flowers, or the same agreeable scent
these clusters of flowers, at a distance, look like a large Carnation or fringed Poppy flower, (Syngenesia Polyg. Æqul. Linn.)
smaller... duller... pale rose... both valuable evergreens
withstood the devouring flames
adjoining wild plains, forests, and savannas... lower than the hilly groves on the banks of the lake and river
bluffs, on the banks of this great river and its lakes... support... groves and high forests... composed of shells and land... thrown up to... present heighth by the winds and waves
present channels and receptacles are worn deeper into the earth
swelling green knoll, at the head of the crystal bason
a point or projection of an entire grove of the aromatic Illicium Floridanum
a fruitful Orange grove, with Palms and Magnolias interspersed
just under my feet was the inchanting and amazing crystal fountatin... threw up, from dark, rocky caverns below, tons of water every minute, 
forming a bason
capacious enough for large shallows to ride in
a creek of four or five feet depth of water
and near twenty yards over,
which meanders six miles through green meadows, 
pouring its limpid waters into the great Lake George... remain pure and unmixed.
expanding flood
and gently sink again
forming a large rim or funnel round the aperture or mouth of the fountain...
a vast perforation through a bed of rocks, the ragged points... are projected out on every side.
vast circular expanse
so extremely clear... absolutely diaphanous or transparent as the ether;
the margin of the bason ornamented with a great variety of fruitful and floriferous trees, shrubs, and plants,
the pendant golden Orange dancing
on the surface of th e pellucid waters,
the balmy air vibrating with the melody of the merry birds
tenants 
of the encircling aromatic grove.
innumerable bands of fish
some clothed
in the most brilliant colours
the voracious crocodile stretched along at full length, 
as the great 
trunk 
of a tree in size
the devouring garfish
inimical trout
all the varieties of gilded painted bream
the barbed catfish
dreaded sting-ray
skate
flounder
spotted bass
sheeps head and ominous drum[???????????]
all in their separate bands and communities
with free and unsuspicious intercourse performing their evolutions [?]
complaisantly to move a little aside,
as it were to make room for others to pass by
flies and minnows
their brilliant colours begin to paint the fluid
come forward rapidly, and instantly emerge,
with the elastic expanding column of crystalline waters,
into the circular bason or funnel
see now how gently they rise
some upright, others obliquely
suffering themselves to be gently lifted or borne up
by the expanding fluid towards the surface, 
failing or floating like butterflies in the cerulean ether:
then again they as gently descend, diverge and move off;
when they rally, form again, 
and rejoin their kindred tribes
paradise of fish
river fish of prey
secreting [cool use of the term] themselves under covert or in ambush, until an opportunity offers, when they suddenly upon them:)
here the trout freely passes by the very nose of the alligator, and laughs in his face, and the bream of the trout.
kindled my fire, supped and reposed peaceably
Rising early [as a starting clause]
May 22, 2026
12:14:20 – 12:44:09
Bartram's Travels Through North and South Carolina, Georgia..
Mount Royal:
these rocks are horizontal slabs or flat masses
rising out of the lake two or three feet above its surface,
and seem an aggregate composition or concrete of 
sand, shells, and calcereous cement, 
of a dark gray or dusky colour
stones are firm and hard enough for buildings, and serve very well for light hand mill-stones
Rocky Point is an airy, cool, and delightful situation, 
commanding a most ample and pleasing prospect of the lake and its environs;
but here being no wood, I re-embarked and sailed down a little farther to the island in the bay, where I went on shore at a magnificent grove of Magnolias and Oranges, desirous of augmenting my collections.
arrived in the evening at the lower trading house
incorporated with the ashes of burnt vegetables
clothe itself perfectly with a very great variety of grasses, herbage, and remarkably low shrubs, together with a very dwarf species of Palmetto
the flowers very large, perfectly white and sweet scented, many connected together on large loose particles or spikes;
the fruit of the size and form of a small cucumber
skin or exterior surface somewhat rimose and scabrous, containing a yellow pulp of the consistence of a hard custard and very delicious, wholesome food.
white berried... very pretty evergreen, grows here on somewhat higher and drier knolls, in large patches or clumps
shrub which seems allied to the rhodedendron...
showing large, beautiful and expansive white fragrant blossoms, and great heavy cones, on slender procumbent branches, some even lying on the earth;
the ravages of fire keep them down, as is evident from the vast excrescent tuberous roots, covering several feet of ground, from which these slender shoots spring.
great crested blue jay of Virginia... equally clamorous.
bluish gray butcher bird
lizards... five to six inches in length, of a slender form... tail... very long and small... yellowish clay colour, varied with longitudinal lines or stripes of a dusky brown colour, from head to tail... wholly covered with very small squamæ, vibrate their tail, and dart forth and brandish their forked tongue after the manner of serpents
After passing over this extensive, level, hard, wet savanna, we crossed a fine brook or rivulet; the water cool and pleasant; its banks adorned with varieties of trees and shrubs
scarlet oak
then the path descends to a wet bay-gale; the ground a hard, fine, white sand, covered with black slush, which continues above two miles, 
when it gently rises the higher sand hills, and directly after passes through a fine grove of young long-leaved pines
the soil seemed here loose, brown, coarse, sandy foam, though fertile
The ascent of the hill, ornamented with a variety and profusion of herbaceous plants and grasses
grove of stately pines, succeeding to the expansive wide plains
solemn symphony of the steady Western breezes, playing incessantly, rising and falling through the thick and wavy foliage
The pine groves passed, we immediately find ourselves on the entrance of the expansive airy pine forests, on parallel chains of low swelling mounds, called the Sand Hills
sparkling ponds and lakes, which at the same time gleam through the open forests, below us and on every side, retaining them in the eye, until we come up with them
uniformity, being mostly circular or elliptical, and almost surrounded with expansive green meadows, and always a picturesque dark grove of live oak, magnolia, gordonia, and the fragrant orange, encircling a rocky shaded grotto of transparent water, on some border of the pond or lake... sacred abode or temporary providence of the guardian spirit...possession and retreat of a thundering absolute crocodile.
just under the hills surrounded by a crescent of dark groves, which shaded a rocky grotto
Near this place was a sloping green bank,
terminating by a point of flat rocks,
which projected into the lake, and formed one point of the crescent that partly surrounded the vast grotto or bason of transparent waters,
which is called by the traders a sink-hole, a singular kind of vortex or conduit, to the subterranean of these ponds, in the summer and dry seasons, evidently tend towards these sinks, yet it is so slowly and gradually, as to be almost imperceptible.
always a meandering channel winding through the savannas or meadows, which receives the waters spread over them,
by several smaller branches, slowly conveying them along into the lake, and finally into the bason, and with them nations of the finny [?] tribes.
Just by the little cape of flat rocks, we fixed our encampment
the verdant meadows spread abroad,
decorated by green points of grassy lawns and
dark promontories of wood land, projecting into the green plains.
at still evening, the sun yet streaking the embroidered savannas
pg. 212
12:48:07 – 12:52:28
Featherstonhaugh's Excursion Through the Slave States
dark-looking dell thickly filled with laurels
a succession of ridges covered with their external forests
13:53:25 – 13:54:20
Sarah Dunant's In the Company of the Courtesan
shining with sweat
May 31, 2026
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
11:27:00 – 11:59:00 The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
dope-taking, door-taking, ulcerated danger-zone of rabid scavengers and criminal millionaires and moral sneaks.
politicians... wasn't a Harvard graduate who could change a flat tire or do ten push-ups.
people in New York City who lived on pet food,
who could kill you for a little loose change
parked the pick-up truck on a rice in the road, and pointed south.
'Here come the savages,' he said.
and up they come, tracking across the fields
from a sickle of trees through the gummy drizzling heat-outlines * [[loose asterisk likely intended to complete the following]] of Polski's barns.
dark... clothes were rags... rags on their heads... others wide-brimmed hats.
men and boys, a few no older than me, all of them carrying long knives.
Father's finger scared me more** [[these too stray asterisks]]... still pointing
end of his forefinger was missing to the big knuckle,
so the finger stump, blunted by stitched skin folds and horribly scarred, could only 
[[Leaf 2, Page 2]]
approximate the right direction.
chewing the questions out of his cigar
mid-morning already too hot for Massachusetts in May.
valley looked scorched from the dry spring we were having, and
shallow ditches were steaming like cow fresh cowflap.
In the furrows that had been torn from one field's end to the other
only tiny palm plumes of Wonder Corn were showing.
Not a single bird twittered here.
And the asparagus fields, where the men were headed, were as brown and smooth
as if the green scalp of grass had been peeled off
and the whole baldness steamrolled.
pg. 12
12:01:00 – 12:25:00 Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya
the Ilano unfolded before my eyes,
the gurgling waters of the river sang to the hum of the turning earth.
magical time of childhood stood still,
the pulse of the living earth pressed its mystery into my living blood
[[Leaf 2, Page 3]]
raw, sun-baked Ilano,
green river valley
blue bowl
which was the  white sun's *home
My barefeet felt the throbbing earth
and my body trembled with excitement.
attic of our home was partitioned into two small rooms.
sisters... slept in one [[of them]]
I slept in the small cubicle by the door
wooden steps creaked [active verb!] down into a small hallway that led into the kitchen.
From the top of the stairs I had a vantage point into the heart of our home, my mother's kitchen.
From there I was to see
the Ilano where she gathered the herbs
that can be harvested only in the light of the full moon by the careful hands of a curandera
rancheros
tejanos
her nimble fingers worked the pattern on the doily she crocheted for the big chair in the sala.
pg. 2
12:28:00 – 12:49:00 The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
shook his head... released the break and spat out of the window
[[Leaf 3, Page 4]]
Beyond Halfield and Polski's house
at the top edge of the valley trough*,
were  leafy [passive "there" with two prepositions of location] leafy battlements**
some as pale as lemonade [[two crossed-out asterisks here]] froth
others dark bulges and bettle heaps of bush, and stockades of bursting branches that matched my idea of encircling jungle.
ground had been covered in
glitter beads of cold brew dew
thought of it as summer ice.
breathed out clouds of vapour
pouches of cloud in the sky
Now the sun was up high.
filling the valley with light and heat that blazed against these men and made them into skinny demons.
the way the sun  left black bruises on their *leather-brown [[two crossed-out asterisks here]] skin. [[accidental period]] – the sight of them had alarmed me, like Father's finger.
wore a baseball cap [active verb "wear" rather than state describing] and drove with his elbow out the window.
stuck his head out the window and hollered,
Down Main Street ('They're all on drugs'), we passed a Getty Station [[capital for "station"?]] and Father howled at the price of gas**.
TWO SLAIN IN SHOOT-OUT was the sign on t a newspaper stand, and he said [[forgot to put comma after this "said"]] 'Crapsheets.'
[[Leaf 3, Page 5]]
Just the word, Collectibles, on a store front, irritated him.
pg. 12
12:53:00 – 13:17:00 Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya
th when the estern sun touched the c [[crossed out because I wrote on the same line as the last name "Anaya" by mistake so assumed there would be space instinctively, but then, in this case, going over to the next line instead]] clouds with orange and gold the
flew over the rolling hills
wandered over the dark plain until...
One mud hat [[sic]] had a lighted window
the vision of my dream swept me towards it
the just-arrived, steaming baby
tied a knot on the cord that had connected the baby to its mother's blood, then quickly bent it and with her teeth she bit off the loose end.
She wrapped the squirming baby and laid [[there should be "it" here]] at the mother's side, then she returned to sweeping the bed.
All linen was swept aside to be washed, but she carefully wrapped the useless cord and the afterbirth and laid the package at the feet of the Virgin on the small altar.
And to show their hope they rubbed the dark earth of the river valley on the baby's forehead,
they surrounded the bed with the fruits of their harvest so the small room smelled of fresh green chile and corn, ripe apples and peaches, pumpkins and green beans.
[[Leaf 4, Page 6]]
the silence was shattered with the thunder of hoofbeats
vaqueros surrounded the small house with shouts and gunshouts [[sic]] ["surround" used with sound]
smashed the fruits and vegetables that surrounded the bed and replaced them with
a saddle
horse blankets
bottles of whiskey
a new rope
bridles
chapas
an old guitar.
rubbed the stain of earth from the baby's forehead because man was not to be tied to the earth but free upon it [[crossed-out asterisk between "upon" and "it"]].
the people of my father, the vaqueros of the Ilano... an exuberant, restless people, wandering across the ocean of the plain.
blood... bury it in the fields to renew their fertility and to assure that the baby will follow our ways. WHe nodded for the old woman to deliver the package at the alatar.
We will burn it and let the winds of the Ilano scatter the ashes.
pg. 6
13:24:00 – 13:40:00 The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
near the hardware store there was a vending
[[Leaf 4, Page 7]]
machine that sold ice by the bag.
'They sell ice – ten pounds for a quarer. But wate'rs as free as air. These dingbats are selling water. Water's the new growth industry. Mineral water, spring water, sparkling water. It's bigg news – water's good for you. Low-cal beer – know what's in it? Know why it keeps you thin? Know why it costs kmore than the regular? Water!'
Father said it in the Yankee way, wattuh.
He cruised around, getting grumpier, until he found a meter with unexpired time left on it.
rubber seal, eight foot of it, with foam backing
hardware clerk returned with a coil of rubber and handed it to Father, who examined it and gave it back.
don't want my hard-earned bucks turned into foreign exchange for the sons of Nippon. I don't want to bankroll another generation of kamikazes.
I want an American length of rubber seal, with foam – do you work here? And he cursed, because the man had walked away and begun serving another customer.
pg. 13
13:43:00 – 14:06:00 Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya
my father cranking the truck outside
truck was bouncing down the goat path that led to the bridge and the highway.
I turned, as I always did, and looked down the
[[Leaf 5, Page 8]]
slope of our hill to the green of the river, and I raised my eyes and saw the town of Guadalupe.
Towering above the housetops and the trees of the town was the church tower.
I made the sign of the cross on my lips.
The only other building that rose above the housetops to compete with the church tower was the yellow top of the schoolhouse.
This fall I would be going to school.
I ran to the pens we kept by the molino to feed the animals.
I had fed the rabbits that  night and they will had [???] alfalfa and so I only changed their water.
I scattered some grain for the hungry chickens and watched their mad scramble as the rooster called them to peck.
I milked the cow and turned her loose.
During the day she would forage along the highway where the grass was thick and green, then she would return by nightfall.
She was a good cow and there were very few times when I had to run and bring her back in the evening.
Then I dreaded it, because she might wander into the hills whne the bats flew at dusk
collected three eggs in the chicken house
[[Leaf 5, Page 9]]
14:13 - 14:15: icebox, rainbow umbrella, stool, underr a tree, ran through with electric lines, green plastic trash bag hanging on metal grid fence
and returned for breakfast.
ate my atole and the hot tortilla with butter.
hands were white with the flour of the dough
She breathed a prayer and crossed her forehead. The flour left white stains [use of this word with forehead, frequent] on her, the four points of the cross.
daughter of farmers
pg. 9
14:18:00 – 14:39:00 The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
found the rubber seal he was looking for at a smaller hardware store on a side street, but
by the time we got back to the pick-up truck he was having fits over what he had wished he had said at the first hardware store. 'I should have said "Sayonara", I should have made a scene.'
A policeman had his hands clapsed over our parking meter, resting on it, with his chin on his fingres, like a goldbricker leaning on a shovel handle.
He looked at Father and sort of smiled hello ["smiled no" alternative based on this grammatical construction], and then he saw me and chewed his lips.
followed Father to the door of the pick-up and hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and said, 'Hold on...
lowered his head and stared at me across the street.
jerked the laces of my sneakers
[[Leaf 6, Page 10]]
clamped his jaw and hovered
the town gave him fits.
fixing a pump by the side of a field
invented the pump... had a sensitized finger-prong like a root in the ground, and when the soil dried out this nerve-wire activated a switch and got the pump going.
invented a mechanical prompt mop – you held it tight and it jigged across the floor, then squeezed itself dry.
Using that mop was like dancing with a headless woman.
He called it The Silent Woman.
What he liked best was taking things apart, even books, even the Bible.
He said the Bible was like an owner's guide, a repair manual to an unfinished invention.
that the Bible was a wilderness
one of Father's theories that parts... that no one had ever read, just as there were parts of the world where no one had ever set foot.
pg. 15
14:47:00 – 15:02:00 Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya
On the side of the river was were only three houses. The slope of the hill rose gradually into
the hills of juniper and mesquite and cedar clumps.
Jasón's house was farther away from the river
[[Leaf 6, Page 11]]
than our house.
On the path that led to the bridge lived huge, fat Fio and his beautiful wife.
I had run hard and was panting.
pointed towards the river, northwest past the railroad tracks to the dark hills.
The river came through those hills and there were old Indian grounds there, holy burial grounds
sometimes for no reason at all wild, loud sounds came exploding from his throat [don't like how redundant this phrase is, but okay, interesting detail]
Sometimes I felt like Jasón, like I wanted to shout and cry, but I never did.
Every day I had to work in the garden [the lack of commas is making me tweak].
Every day I reclaimed [?] from the rocky soil of the hill a few more feet of earth to cultivate.
had a few chile and tomato plants growing.
pg. 11
June 3, 2026
09:10:00 – 09:40:00 The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
It's the empty spaces that will save us that will save us [[sic]]. No funny bunnies, no cops, no crooks, no muggers, no glue-sniffers, no aerosol bombs.
We watched them walking for the upper fields... only going out to cut more asparagus they looked 
[[Leaf 2, Page 2]]
as if they were searching for some fingers to chop off.
... got down there... Geothemal energy. All the juice they need is five thousand feet underground. It's the earth's belly button.
Across the field they went, the savages, hunched over and flapping. They had huge shoes and tiny tucked-down heads, and as they passed by the woods they scared the crows and started a racket of caws.
birds flew up like black gloves jerked from a line, rising backwards sand filing out their feathers with each wingbeat.
Nippones videocrapola.
oil-can
Up here, nature is young.
But the eco-system in the tropics is immensely old and hasn't changed since the world began.
He locked the wrench over the threads of the protruding pipe, then poked the sprouto of the oil-can at the pipe-joint and squirted. With both hands he freed the pipe, and he sighed.
He put his short finger inside the rusty trickle in the pump housing [interesting, is this what I've been missing, this term?] and pulled out a brass valve and a gush of water.
can't drink the water where those savages originate. It's got creatures in it. Worms. Weeds
They haven't got the sense to boil
[[Leaf 2, Page 3]]
it and purify it. Never heard of filtration. The germs get into their bodies, and they turn green, like the water, and die.
The water was now pouring out of the pump and the inside circuits ticked and measured.
Now he was grinning at his cut-off finger.
de-gas it [water], bubble everything out of it, including oxygen and nitrogen.
When they've flattened it they seal it up in mason jars, like preserved peaches. Put
Put it aside for a while.
Then, when they use this water on plants, they grow two or three times as fast – big healthy monsters.
Beans climb off their poles, summer squashes like balloons, beets the size of volleyballs.
He motioned to the water.
He cupped his hand and under the spurting pipe and raised it to his mouth. Then he slurped it. 'This is like champagne to these savages.'
Smacking his lips he made it seem wonderful stuff.
pg. 17
09:41:00 – 10:02:00 Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya
My fingers bled from scraping out the rocks and
[[Leaf 3, Page 4]]
it seemed that a square yard of ground produced a wheelbarrow full of rocks which I had to push down to the retaining wall.
sweat was sun was white in the bridge blue sky.
The shade of the clouds would not come until the afternoon.
The sweat wasr sticky on my brown body.
I heard the truck and turned to see it chugging up the dusty goat path.
Deborah and Theresa trailed after her.
Deborah stepped forward and took Ultima's withered hand.
She even bowed slightly. Then she pulled Theresa forward and told her to greet la Grande.
She looked proudly at my father who stood leaning against the truck, watching and judging the introductions.
She took my hand, and I felt the power of the a whirlwind sweep around me.
Her eyes swept the surrounding hills
wild beauty of our hills
magic of the green river
My nostrils quivered as I felt the song of the mockingbirds and the drone of the grasshoppers mingle with the pulse of the earth.
The four directions of the Ilano met in me,
[[Leaf 3, Page 5]]
and the white sun shone in my soul.
The granules of sand at my feet and the sun and sky seemed to dissolve into one strange, complete being.
A cry came to my throat.
My father carried on his shoulders the large blue-tin trunk which later I learned contained all of Ultima's earthly possessions, the black dresses and shawls she wore, and the magic of her sweet smelling herbs.
pg. 13
10:04:00 – 10:16:00 The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
The crows returned to the woods, speeding towards the treetops, then circling warily and plunging to roost.
You know they're mad when they're smiling. That's the signal, like dogs.... They turn into animals. Killers. Animals sort of smile just before they bite you.
W my scalp was tugged by a hundred sharp claws.
We worked outside until the sky turned the colour of flaming Sterno, then started home to supper.
That night I opened my eyes in the dark and knew that my father was not in the house.
his whistling snore (usually he sounded like one of his own original expansion valves)
a feeling of lonesome emptiness, as if
[[Leaf 4, Page 6]]
there was a mummy-shaped hole of air in the house where my father's body should have been.
where door-locking was unknown
big and bold in everything he did.
The only original thing about him was that he smoked cigars, and wore a baseball cap all day.
pg. 19
10:21:00 – 10:28:00 Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya
As Ultima walked past me I smelled for the first time a trace of the sweet fragrance of herbs that always lingered in her wake.
I would awaken sometimes at night and think I caught a scent of her fragrance in the cool-night breeze.
And with Ultima came the owl. I heard it that night for the first time in the juniper tree outside of Ultima's window.
I knew it was her owl because the other owls of the Ilano did not come that near the house.
At first it disturbed me, and Deborah and Theresa too. I heard them whispering through the partition.
pg. 13
10:30:00 – 10:46:00 The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
[[Leaf 4, Page 7]]
looked first in the bedroom and saw one figure lying there on the brass bed, a humped-up sheet on the far side – Mother.
he always hung his overalls on the bedpost.
cat was sleeping on the floor like a tipped-over roller skate.
It being spring, there was a powerful odour of lilacs and drug-up dirt, and a soft wind.
a torrent of crickets outside
one frantic cricket trapped inside making fretful chirps.
Except for this cricket, the house was sti as still as if it lay buried.
rubber boots were right outside inside the door.
put them on and, still in my pajamas, I set out along the path to look for my old man.
surrounded by ploughed fields
The edge of each field was ragged with woods, cut was windbreaks.
corn and tobacco had begun to sprout,
though it was easier to tramp between the furrows.
I stuck to the path with my arms in front of my face to keep the branches away.
spider webs strung across [branches] that snagged on my eyelashes.
w These woods were full of marshy pools,
and the sound that night was the spring 
[[Leaf 5, Page 8]]
peepers, the little slippery frogs, shiny as fish lures, that made such a warbling. The trees were blue and black, like towering witches.
pg. 20
10:48:00 – 10:55:00 Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya
sure my father would get up and shoot the owl with the old rifle he kept on the kitchen wall.
In my cuentos I had heard the owl was of the disguises a bruja took, and so it struck a chord of fear in the heart to hear them hooting at night.
But not Ultima's owl.
Its soft hooting was like a song, and as it grew rhythmic it calmed the hills moonlit hills and lulled us to sleep. Its song seemed to say that it had come to watch over us.
In my dream I saw Ultima's owl lift la Virgen on her wide wings and flew her to heaven.
pg. 14
11:15:00 – 11:33:00 The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
I had left the house feeling wrapped in darkness, but the farther I went walkedf the less dark it seemed.
Now the land was muddy yellow. Some trees
[[Leaf 5, Page 9]]
were ash-coloured and the upper parts picked out like iron thorns and the sky heavy grey.
I could see some clouds.
One was the shape of a loaf of bread and I guessed that the moon was behind it because it had a bright oily look, as if it hid a mill town in the heavens.
boots were loose on my feet and made a slopping sound.
Mosquitoes bit me through my pajamas. My arms were scratched with brambles.
I should have worn my hat – bugs chased into my hair.- Every
Every so often, I had a feeling someth that someone was behind me.
I turned around sharply to confront the smirking skulls on barkless trees or the reaching finger bones from dead branches.
That was one of fear. My other was that I would step on a skunk and get sprayed on with the stink. Then
Then I would have to bury my pajamas in a hole and go back to the house bare naked.
The woods thinned out.
I could see every tree single trees against the sky and another now in front
[[Leaf 6, Page 10]]
of a yellowish field.
A pile of bouldes told me where I was. The high point had been left because it was impossible to plough.
It was narrow and it rose up out of the end of the woods, giving the whole thing the look of a ship.
From the side, in the daytime, it was a schooner with a rocky bow and a cargo on the deck and thirty leafy masts, stranded in the asparagus fields among the windbreaks that looked like islands.
pg. 21
11:35:00 – 11:48:00 Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya
young elm trees
her woman friends from the town came up the dusty path to sit in the sala and visit.
to spend in the attic and cut out an interminable train of paper dolls which they dressed, gave names to, and most miraculously, made talk.
walked together in the Ilano and along the river banks to gather herbs and roots for her medicines.
listen to the mystery of the groaning earth
up instantly, looking through the small window at the dark figure that ran madly towards the house. He hurled himself at the door and began pounding.
He fumbled with the farol.
aviso
[[Leaf 6, Page 11]]
His face corded with thick veins.
For the first time his left arm came up and I saw the rifle he had.
My father groaned and slumped against the wall.
The crazy bastard has taken to the river—
pg. 16
11:50:00 – 12:08:00 The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
asparagus... funny-looking crop, because it does [mistake!] [[referring to this empty white line]]not grow in furrows. The fields are as flat and smooth as a parking lot
From a distance you can't see asparagus plants, buty if you very close you see the spikes – no flowers, no leaves – just fat green candles sticking out of the ground everywhere.
From where I was standing I could not see anything but the smooth steamrolled earth, and its dull shine, like a swell in a waveless sea.
And beyond those fields the black ribbon of night where I feared my father was.
lightning bugs,,, puny, not bright, less than match flares, dithering on and off and never i the same place twice.
They had a light of their own but lighted nothing else and were like dim
[[Leaf 7, Page 12]]
unreliable stars dying in the darkness
But a cluster of small life far off did not die. They fumbled, they were torches.
and when I was satisfied that these fires had men beneath them I set off directly for them, across the asparagus fields, kicking over and cracking the spikes, and boots sinking in the dirt crust.
Closer, I could see the high flames wagging all in a row – a procession of people in a single file holding torches over their heads, the flames snapping like flags.
pg. 21
June 4, 2026
11:56:03 – 12:19:16 Threescore Years: An Autobiography by Samuel F. Holbrook
voluntarily taking up a stone, and breaking an earthen vessel belonging to an old lady
took me across his knee, and the concussion of his brawny hand made me resolve never to break another "old lady's jug."
innate sin
standing with the halter about their necks
I went with some boys to see a dead animal thrown into the river.
in my eagerness to view the launch, fell overboard, and 
as the distance from the top of the wharf to the water rendered it impossible for any one to reach me, I remained in the water until rescued...
the river is always running rapidly, either one way or the other, the place where I fell was a short eddy, just around the corner of the wharf.
Had I been out only a few feet further, the tide would have swept me away,
and of course, that would have been the last of me.
the recollection of playing on the wharf,
the swallowing a large quantity of salt water,
and a perfect knowledge that I was drowning.
Wherein of countries vast, and deserts wild,
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills, whose heads touch heaven,
in his overland journey to India
New York, in those days, was a different looking city from what it is now. Then it was scarcely half as large, and, what were then fields and orchards, are now splendid squares and parks.
many of these were then sellers of nuts and apples, waiters in kitchens, small retailing grocers, and some of the descendants of these thrifty men, are now grappling with abject poverty; and often may be seen with bloated faces and tattered garments.
Yellow fever and small pox prevailed every summer, although at some seasons very much mitigated.
sickly summers... succeeded by intensely cold winters
The city depended on Connecticut sloops and other small vessels for fuel, and when the East and North Rivers were frozen, which they were sometimes for four of five weeks, wood then became both clear and scarce.
Coal as fuel was scarcely known
anthracite, or any other than imported goal, had not yet been discovered, so that the poor were for many days, and in the most inclement part of winter, without a particle of fire.
the corporation ordered a long row of wooden buildings, which stood on the Battery, to be torn down and distributed among the most destitute.
put to school to an old man, who taught us in an old dilapidated garret.
The old fellow wore a large white wig, an old-fashioned coat with "buttons down before," greasy breeches, and large shoe buckles; 
he kept a good sized stick which might have answered well for an illustration of perpetual motion.
undertook to flog me
by various convolutions and twistings, I got off almost "unscathed."
regular thrashing
a worker in ivory and tortoise shell
I had gone in to bathe near the house, and before I was aware, got beyond my depth, and would have drowned had not a man accidentally come near the water-side and pulled me out.
an Irish boy, with whom I had a short time disagreed with in play, came behind me with a large, sharp stone, and struck me with such force as to deprive me of my senses
My father established his factory at the south part of the town, then called Washington street.
This beach was overlooked by a steep hill, called "Mount Whoredom," on the summit of which was a powder house, and around that vicinity, and on the northern slope, there was a collection of negroes, and characters of the worst grade.
In 1805 and 1806, the top of this hell was dug away, and removed by a railway, to build Charles street. 
but 'tis not my intention to enter upon the history of Boston, therefore I have merely alluded to a few among the many valuable improvements that our city has undergone.
pg. 15
12:21:20 – 12:47:18 Adventures During a Journey Overland to India Vol. 1 by Mayor Skinner, 31st Reg.
little chambers like rooms in a barrack
occasionally finely-dressed damsels
window-curtains
fantastic caps on their heads
gay dresses and jewels
a white satin gown, with a flimsy scarf about her neck; and a bonnet
a cluster of poor women, in blue shifts, and black veils or masks over their faces, that prevented the very forms of their noses from being traced.
a tall stout fellow as black as a coal
"Me cookie, too good; leetle coffee—leetle broth." "Anything else?"—"Leetle broth—leetle coffee."
more useful than beating the drum or manufacturing spatterdashes
"locanda," which was denoted by a fine brazen sign hanging so high in the air that it had escaped my notice.
At the foot of the steps that lead up to the coffee-room of the "Aquila d'oro," I parted with my universal linguist [French, Italian, Greek, English]
At the top of a flight of perpendicular steps, excessively filthy, was a large room, in which a table, covered with a dirty cloth, showed that active operations had been lately carried on;
fragments of bread and fruit lay strewed about the floor, 
and the most abominable smells proceeded from every corner of the building:
in a narrow chamber beyond, were a collection of little tables, all neat enough, and at one of these I was soon seated with an exceedingly good dinner before me.
a messenger sent off properly accredited to bring my baggage on shore
dressed in a green jacket and trousers, very much braided, and had on a party-coloured silk sash; the incessant red cap completed his costume.
His head had just been shaved; and his newly-razored temples, contrasted with 
the bronzed complexion of his countenance,
gave him rather a wobegone appearance.
carefully examining the "carte," and picking from it the cheapest dishes;
for everything in the restaurant was managed in the manner of a French one, and each dish bore its price against it [?].
His pay was many months in arrear
the threadbare and darned uniform he wore
roaming about the streets with pipes at their lips
bore so haggard and desolate an air
should have been loath indeed to witness a countryman so bowed down.
To be a drudge, ill-paid and ill-considered, in an Eastern army, seems to me the last refuge of the unfortunate.
a few Italian oaths
rattling of the billiard-balls
in came four brother-officers
a youth in the Greek dress, who was the marker [?] at the table.
The room I was to occupy was off a long hall,
that was in some measure detached from the rest of the building, and hung over the sea, the spray from which very nearly reached my window.
It was the old harbour, and served now for vessels to ride their quarantine in; two forlorn Greek schooners stood in durance there; and the health-office was in a tower at the extremity of the upper line of works that defended the entrance.
a large dinner-party in the hall through which I passed to my quiet room.
The company consisted of a dozen persons in Turkish dresses, with two musicians who were seated at the table playing and singing with all their might.
There was wine upon [[bruh]] the table, of which every one partook in a most unflinching manner.
The noise was tremendous, but I was assured it would not last long;
I sauntered towards the landing-place, that I might meet my baggage and assist in its disembarkation.
A very fat good-humoured Turk, in a yellow cloak lined with fur,
sat smoking in the porch of a small building 
that served as custom-house, close to the sea-side:
here I found my bags attending a consultation holden upon them by three or four men, who were very anxious to scrutinize their contents.
I avoided this, however, for the port regulations did not seem very strictly conducted; and obtained a little ticket that was to pass through a gate where 
another custom-house officer was stationed, 
solely for the purpose, as it seemed to me, of obtaining a fee for not asking to see the said ticket. [?]
As I was leaving my fat friend [bruh], who had been smiling most complacently at me the whole time I stood by him, 
a tall gaunt Turk touched me on the shoulder, and with a mysterious wink, pointed towards him with his thumb;
pg. 35
12:47:52 – 13:04:40 London Labour and the London Poor by Henry Mayhew
pedlars, showmen, harvest-men, and all that large class who live by either selling, showing, or doing something through the country
urban and suburban wanderers
the pick-pockets—the beggars—the prostitutes—the street-sellers—the street-performers—the cabmen—the coachmen—the watermen—the sailors and such like.
purely vagabond, doing nothing whatsoever for their living, but moving from place to place preying upon the earnings 
of the more industrious portion of the community
Those who obtain their living in the streets of the metropolis are a
very large and varied class;
indeed, the means resorted to in order "to pick up a crust," as the people call it, in the public thoroughfares (and such in many instances it literally is,) are so multifarious that the mind is long baffled in its attempts to reduce them to scientific order or classification.
1. Street-Sellers. 2. Street-Buyers. 3. Street-Finders. 4. Street-Performers, Artists, and Showmen. 5. Street-Artizans, or Working Pedlars; and 6. Street-Labourers.
18:37:15 – 19:17:31 Ancient Iraq by Georges Roux
bare mountains, stony deserts, fields of barley, palm-groves, reed-thickets and mud-flats
On the hills, shepherds straight from Biblical ages graze sheep and goats; 
in the desert, tribes of bedouins endlessly wander from well to well, as of old; 
in the plain, peasants live in mud houses almost identical with those of the Babylonian farmers and often use similar tools, while fisherman in the marshes dwell in reed-huts and punt the high-prowed boats of their Sumerian ancestors.
narrow politico-religious divisions.
territorial unity which, to us, is obvious.
Within our triangle flourished a civilization
From roots set deeply in the darkness of prehistoric times, it slowly grew, blossomed in the dawning light of history, about 3000 BC, and lasted for nearly three thousand years
A glorious past was forgotten.
In man's short memory, of these opulent cities, of these powerful gods, of these mighty monarchs only a few, often distorted names survived.
The dissolving rain, the sand-bearing winds, the earth-splitting sun conspired to obliterate all material remains, and the desolate mounds which concealed the ruins of Babylon and Nineveh
have deposited their alluvium on a bed of sedimentary rocks between the Arabian platform and the Iranian highland, creating amidst deserts a plain
the line of the sea-shore has probably varied very little in the course of time.
a study of surface fossils and from a reconstruction of ancient canals and river-beds as supplied by aerial photography.
a zigzagging course across Turkey
almost immediately flows southwards
When they emerge from the mountains, the two rivers are separated from each other by some 250 miles of open steppe.
takes a south-easterly direction and leisurely makes its way towards the Tigris.
Near Baghdad, they nearly meet, being a mere twenty miles apart, but they soon diverge again and do not mingle their waters until they reach Qurnah, sixty miles north of Basrah, to form the Shatt-el-'Arab.
In antiquity, however, this wide, majestic river did not exist, since the Tigris and the Euphrates ran separately into the sea.
a complex system of canals, reservoirs, dykes, regulator-sluices and the like ('perennial irrigation').
create an efficient network of canals and... maintain them against rapid silting-up
flimsy mud-houses and reed-huts are swept away; the crop is lost in a huge muddy lake, together with the cattle and the belongings of a large part of the population.
Despite these drawbacks, the plain watered by the Tigris and the Euphrates is a rich farming land, and was even richer in antiquity before extensive salinization of the soil took place.
could easily feed the country and barter the surplus of cereals for metal, wood and stone, which had to be obtained from abroad.
Though wheat, emmer, millet and sesame were grown, barley was—and still is—the main cereal, since it tolerates a slightly saline soil.
a wooden seeding-plough which barely scratched the surface of the fields, and the furrows were wide apart
There were two or three irrigations in summer; the main harvest was usually in April, but a catch-crop was often possible after the winter rains.
The hot and humid climate of southern Mesopotamia, and the availability of ample water supplies in that region also were conditions highly favourable to the cultivation of the date-palm which grows along rivers and canals, 'its feet in water and its head in the scorching sun', in the words of an Arabian proverb.
there were in the country of Sumer extensive palm-groves and that artificial pollination was already practised.
Flour and dates—the latter of high calorific value—formed the staple food of ancient Iraq, but cattle and sheep were bred and grazed in the non-cultivated areas and in the fields left fallow, while rivers, canals, lakes and sea provided fish in abundance.
A variety of fruits and vegetables were also grown in gardens sheltered by the palm-trees and watered by means of a very simple water-lifting instrument (dâlu) which is still used under its old name.
Leaving aside minor local variations, four important regions can be described: the desert, the steppe, the foothills, and the marshes.
Hilly in the north, dissected by deep wadis in the centre, flat and featureless in the south, the desert borders to the west the whole course of the Euphrates and extends for hundreds of miles into the heart of Arabia.
this age-old struggle between the sedentary society of the alluvial plains and the hostile tribes of the western desert.
With their myriads of shallow lakes, their narrow channels winding through dense thickets of reeds, their fauna of water-buffaloes, wild boars and wild birds, their mosquitoes and their stifling heat
bitumen
as mortar for brickwork and waterproof lining for bathrooms and drains
in sculpture and inlay-work
as a material for caulking boats
as fuel
even as a drug
at least during certain periods in their history, they exported it.
Mesopotamia lacked metal ores as she lacked hard stone and good timber.
These materials were already being imported from abroad in protohistorical times, thus enabling a chalcolithic culture to develop in a country conspicuous for the absence of metal.
Copper... north-western Iran or in Caucasus... originally... from Azerbaijan or Armenia.
alternative sources of supplies... Anatolia (which later produced iron), Cyprus
Tin... from Iran, or perhaps even Afghanistan, before the Phoenicians, in the first millennium BC, brought it from Spain.
Silver came mostly from the Taurus mountains
gold from various deposits scattered between Egypt and India.
Several districts of Iran could provide hard stones and semi-precious stones
Magan [Cyprus] was reputed for its beautiful black diorite used by the sculptors of the Third Dynasty of Ur.
Ordinary timber... nearby Zagros mountains
valuable cedar... from Lebanon or the Amanus.
other varieties of wood came by sea from the mysterious country of Meluhha—possibly the ancient name of India.
most of the plain is covered with thick mud in winter and liable to local inundations during the spring, and that the only pack-animal available until the camel was introduced on a large scale in the first millennium BC was the ass.
pg. 28
19:22:59 – 19:38:50 Marian and Marion by J. M Selleger-Elout
wind went howling over the village
took a rest behind the dunes
leap from behind the dune-tops,
sweep past the roofs of the low houses,
shake the branches of the moaning elm trees, and
blow sand through the cracks of doors and windows.
The village houses were not large, but now it seemed as if they made themselves still smaller to escape the fury of the wind.
Lowest of all... house... stood beside a sandy road which had been dug through the dunes.
In this sheltered spot it stood snug and warm.
laid her head with its white undercap on the pillow again
shoved small Kootje, who had slithered against her and whose round tummy took too much space, back against the wall.
steamer's whistle so clearly it meant that the steamer was near the coas.t
sandbanks near the coast
Her legs were already out of the press bed.
put on her jacket and skirt and blue apron. Also her top cap.
But her necklace she left off and she carried her wooden shoes in her hand.
felt about with her other hand until she found the table.
Next came the big cupboard and then she groped along the wall until she reached the door.
draw the bolt of the front door... a heavy one.
put out her hand to the bolt but found it drawn already.
only to lift the latch to go outside.
the wind squeezed screaming through the narrow opening of the door, which tried to pull itself out of Janne's grip.
she put on her wooden shoes and groped her way, close to the wall of the house [amid wind], in the direction of the beach.
burgomaster and the doctor and the postmaster.
beach-grass whisper
stood still, holding her skirts in her hands.
ran on like a little goat, butting her head against the wind.
clambered up the dune
a ship which had run on a sandbank.
squeezed her hands tightly together under her apron
if that's not a ship in distress I'm a jellyfish.
hid in a hollow part of the dune and just then the moon peeped through the clouds
black sea
thick woolly clouds
the high waves that washed one side of the deck
tears sprang into her eyes
wind blew against her bare arms till they felt like sticks.
Quickly she turned around her apron and tied it over her shoulders and cap.
trembled with cold under her apron.
a French ship struck fast on this coast
current had swept them on
beach was almost covered by the angry waves,
thick blobs of foam flew into the faces of the men
glided down from the dune, through the beach-grass
would pull off their wet stockings and shoes and put her apron around a wet lady's shoulders.
battled the wind and foam and soon stood on the beach.
pg. 20
19:41:10 – 19:45:10 Ultima, Bless Me by Rudolfo Anaya
glanced down the hall and saw candlelight flickering from the sala
slipped out the kitchen door and into the night.
sniffed the air; there was a tinge of autumn in it.
ran up the goat path until I caught sight of two dark shadows ahead of me.
tall juniper tree that stood where the hill sloped down to the bridge
cut to the right and was swallowed up by the dark brush of the river
pushed through the dense bosque until I came to the bank of the river.
a clump of bullrushes in the sweeping water of the river just a few yards away
Crouched in the reeds and half submerged in the muddy waters lay the figure of Lupito, the man who had killed the sheriff.
glint of light was from the pistol he held in his hand.
The cry of a tormented man had come to the peaceful green mystery of the river, and the great presence of the river watched from the shadows and deep recesses, as I watched from where I crouched at the bank.
called to the men on the bridge.
The rising mist of the river swirled in the beams of spotlights.
pg. 19
19:47:45 – 19:50:22 The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
broad-brimmed hats were lit up, but... could not see their bodies
streamed from a patch of pinewoods
where there was an old building we called the Monkey House.
Men with torches marching at midnight across the valley fields
a snake of flame
a rattling sound,
the jacking of beans shaken in a can
The procession kept to the far side of a stone wall between the crops – young corn there, asparagus here.
hunched over and ran to a ditch and got down flat and looked sharp.
heart almost stopped as the torches tottered through a gate in the stone wall
pg. 22
19:57:00 – 20:08:00 The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
crept backwards into the ditch, and as I was lying in this lying-down position the ditch water started ot leak into my boot tops.
Pretty soon my boots were filled with full of ditch water. But I didn't open my mouth.
The Spartan boy with the fog under his shirt, I forget why, who let the animal chew his belly to shreds because he was too brave to shout for help.
Wet feet were no comparison.
some low vines growing on the ground nearby.
my legs were sunk in mud and water, so I yanked at the vines and pulled them over my head
[[Leaf 1, Page 2]]
and flattened myself against the side of the ditch. I was completely hidden.
men were close. They were still gabbling – they sounded happy – and I could hear the swishing of their torches, the flames sounding like sheets blowing on a clothes-line – no crackle, just the flap of fire.
I looked up. I expected to see torch-carriers with crazy faces, but what I saw almost made me yell. The
The man in front was carrying a huge black cross.
pg. 22
20:10:00 – 20:24:00 Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya
dark clumps of reeds
muddy waters of the river lapped and gurgled savagely around him.
he turned and fired over the railing of the bridge.
His shots roared then whined away down the river.
the bullets make splashing noises in the water.
He took Chávez' rifle and with one hand held it up. Chávez struggled against hm but Narciso was too big and strong.
leaned over the concrete railing and
[[Leaf 2, Page 3]]
shouted down into the darkness.
One single shot sounded then a barrage followed it the roar of a cannon, like the rumble of thunder in a summer thunderstorm.
Many shots found their mark. I saw Lupito lifted off his feet and hurled backward by the bullets. But he got up and ran limping and crying towards the bank where I lay.
shots... sounded like a great whirling of wings, like pigeons swirling to roost on the church top.
He fell forward then clawed and crawled out of the holy water of the river onto the bank in front of me.
20:27:00 – 20:31:00 The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
cross was not made of planks, but rounded – two fat poles lashed together.
horrible white chop-marks where the branches had been lopped off, like oval wounds on skin.
And behind this, te [[suddenly went to leave the cafe because I thought it was closed at 20:00 because it said so in Google Maps but learned after I was outside that it closed at 21:00]]
June 13, 2026
12:39:00 Issue 10, PANK Magazine (Spring 2014)
Nell Payton's That's All You Need
wears scarves with strands of silver thread wrapped around her head so we can't see her hair
beads of sweat along her upper lip
hold it to my face and let it lick my chin.
its face looks like a dirty cotton ball, black spots for eyes and brown streaks on its white ears.
shows us how to give the puppies milk from a little tube
how they learn not to pee on the towels, what they eat
showing teeth that are black and orange around the edges, and says that this is where the money is.
leans on the hood of the car watching us and starts burning and sniffing the pills from his pocket right there in the parking lot.
wind blows the smoke toward us
put my hand over the puppy's nose but it bites and I have to let go.
smoke makes your eyes and nose hurt if you are too close so we kneel down by the box again
Mom once yelled at Eddie for smoking his medicine in our room,
right on River's bed with his muddy boots up on her blankets.
told him to get the hellout of the house and he said sorry, sorry, sorry, all drawn out and silly like he didn't mean it.
smell made our eyes water
Nana came over to get us that night,
taking me and River each by the arm and giving Mom the worst look we had ever seen.
Mama kept resting on the couch in Eddie's shirt and her underwear talking about how damned humid it was and blowing us kisses
as Nana pushed us out the back door toward her car.
Eddie is staring at the dogs and the woman is staring back at Eddie.
finished burning his pills and now he is rolling his little piece of tinfoil against the car.
walks over to us and River holds her puppy up to him.
Eddie needs the medicine because he has bad legs
sent her daughter across the parking lot to get some dog snacks at Publix.
practice saying Ihasa apso.
giggling so all her lost-teeth holes show and spitting APSO? APSOOH? APSOAH? through the spaces until she gets it right.
comes back and hands her mother change and a package of hotdogs
give our puppies little pieces of the cold meat and then smell our fingers before the dogs can lick them.
daughter, who is almost white and has shiny lips and puffed up hair, takes my puppy and tells me I was holding it wrong.
She speaks real clearly and with big words like she is much older than us even though she's shorter.
smiles at Mom and straightens up on the crate she's been sitting on.
give us the two puppies and a towel for a very special deal of fifty dollars.
jumps onto her toes, hugging the puppy tighter.
him grinning, a boot up on the brick wall.
all quiet until River's stomach starts gurgling loudly anf Mom grabs the backs of our shirts.
Thank you, we chirp in dry voices when Eddie blocks our path to the car saying with a laugh, Where are your manners, little honeys?
Mom snaps her head back at him, her eyebrows raised so high that the skin on her eyelids strains and her mouth is crooked and mean.
makes sure we have our seatbelts on and then burns one of Eddie's pills outside of the car,
sinking back against the glass after she breathes in the smoke.
rests there for a while and then gets into the driver's seat and turns on the music.
Eddie leans over and licks the spot behind her ear and she turns to kiss him.
reaches back to squeeze each of our hands after.
smiling now, nodding to the music, and Eddie winks at her and says, so that's all you need, huh?
Mom puts the car in reverse and makes kissing faces at us when she turns around to look out the back window.
stop for ice cream on the way out to the highway;
mom lets us get three scoops each.
When we have our cones and are strapped back in the car, Eddie turns around says, too damn bad. Too bad they drown dogs they can't sell. Can't keep em all so they hafta get drowned.
Mom slaps his leg but doesn't say it isn't true.
River squeezes my hand tightly so I won't cry. I squeeze her back harder and with nails until she yelps like the dogs; I know not to cry.
Wesley Rothman's Gangsterism
-
Tolstoy's On Civil Disobedience and Non-Violence
what the "preservation of order" means: upholding the rich against the poor toilers, who begin to perceive their rights.
working-people who are acting quite within their rights?
a fixed resolve not to use them ["either uniform or arms"]
rank of murderers
because he holds murder to be opposed to human nature.
refuses military service because he thinks "murder by order," that is, the obligation to kill those whom one is ordered to kill (which is the real nature of military service), is incompatible with man's uprightness.
present social order
20:46:26 – 20:50:25 Issue 10, PANK Magazine (Spring 2014)
Rebecca Jones-Howe's Tourist
does a double take when he spots me from across the room
spies the filtered grey that clouds my gaze
man like that is a travel magazine in a hospital waiting room
smiles lightly
chest tingles and I want to breathe in deep
the sound of the headboard hitting the wall, their voices moaning.
a picture of a beach above my desk and when I squint my eyes I can see the frame bobbing
asking my dad for a white bedroom that looked liek the hotel rooms in the travel magazines at the doctor's office.
June 14, 2026
16:34:56 – 16:52:13 Wildbow's Worm
Mr. Gladly's World Issues class
shrug it off as an anomaly 
the gloomy girl that never spoke up in class?
sat two rows to my left and two seats back
sounds of binders snapping shut, textbooks and notebooks being slammed closed, chairs screeching on cheap tile and the dull roar of emerging conversation
bunch of the more social members of the class gathered around... to chat
collections of doodles spreading across the page and numbers in the margins
played up the image ['adorable'. 'Petite.'] with sky blue pins in her shoulder length brown hair and a cutesy attitude
wore a strapless top and denim skirt
which seemed... moronic... it was still early enough in the spring that we could see our breath in the mornings.
only feminine feature I had going for me was my dark curly hair, which I'd grown long.
clothes... didn't show skin... didn't deck myself out in bright colors like a bird showing off its plumage.
bell rang with a lilting ding-dong
first one out the door.
didn't run, but I moved at a decent clip
as I headed up the stairwell to the third floor and
made my way to the girl's washroom
a half dozen girls there already... had to wait for a stall to open up.
peek below the partitions showed that there was nobody else in the other stalls
got my brown bag lunch to begin eating
my pita wrap
a sound above me... looked up to see what it was, only to get splashed in the face... eyes started burning... momentarily blinded by the stinging fluid in my eyes and my blurring of my glasses... taste it as it ran down to my nose and mouth... Cranberry juice.
leaning over the top of the stall, each of them with plastic bottles at the ready.
bent over with my hands shieidng my head just before they emptied the contents over me.
It ran down the back of my neck, soaked my clothes, fizzed as it ran through my hair.
pushed against the door again, but the girl on the other side was braced against it with her body.
shoved on the door, the full weight of my body slamming against it... my shoes lost traction on the juice-slick floor... fell to my knees in the pudding juice.
Empty plastic bottles with labels for grape and cranberry juice fell to the ground around me.
A bottle of orange soda bounced off my shoulder to splash into the puddle before rolling under the partition and into the next stall.
The smell of the fruity drinks and sodas was sickly sweet.
door swung open, and I glared up at the three girls.
Madison was cute, a late bloomer, Sophia and Emma were the types of girls that fit the 'prom queen' image.
Sophia was dark-skinned, with a slender, athletic build she'd developed as a runner on the school track team.
Red-headed Emma, by contrast, had all the curves the guys wanted... good-looking enough to get occasional jobs as a [sic] amateur model for the catalogs that the local department stores and malls put out.
faint roar of blood pumping in my ears and an urgent ominous crackling 'sound' that wouldn't get any quiter or less persistent if I covered my ears with my hands.
could feel dribbles running down my arms and back, still chilled from the refrigerated vending machines.
Gestation 1.1
16:53:34 – 17:02:37 Cuttlefish That Loves Diving's Lord of the Mysteries
A gaudy and dazzling dreamworld filled with murmurs instantly shattered.
abnormal throbbing pain in his head as though someone had ruthlessly lashed at him with a pole again and again...sharp object pierced right through his temples followed by a twist!
whatever will he could summon was ethereal like a fleeting fog.
a blunt knife is slicing through his brains./././ 
...won't have to worry about my manager's grumblings!
His vision first blurred before it was screened by a faint crimson red.
a study desk made of burly wood in front of him.
Right in the middle was an opened notebook with coarse, yellow pages.
title was eye-catchingly written with strange, deep black lettering.
To the left of the notebook was a stack of neatly-arranged books, numbering about eight.
The wall on their right was inset with grayish-white pipes with wall lamps connected to them.
lamp had a classical Western style to it... about half the size of an adult's head with an inner layer of transparent glass and an exterior gridded with black metal.
Diagonally beneath the lamp was a black ink bottle shrouded in a pale red glow. Its embossed surface formed a blurry angel pattern.
ch. 1
17:02:39 – 18:10:58 Park Saenal's Overgeared
threw off his cloak as he talked to himself.
appearance of armor rapidly being equipped on the body of the youth was quite cool.
elegant blend of red, black and gold.
one-meter long tail that stretched from the vicinity of the tail bone.
ran amok and slaughtered the guild members, the young man pulled out a pickaxe, headed to the wall... and started swinging the pickaxe?
young man swung it with good form and complained as he wiped off the sweat, [sic, dialogue in next paragraph]
visit a dragon's lair with my pickaxe!"
a hot wind emerged from the staff that Hell Gao waved and hit the young man.
the overwhelming sight of all types of battle gear piled up like a mountain.
names of the brilliant battle gear were in a colorful mix of green, yellow, and purple.
If took only a few of these, I would become a rich man!
When I put it in my bag, it would return to its original spot like a mirage.
If a user could obtain all of these, Satisfy's economic balance might crumble.
an old book placed on a shiny gold table.
one of the Eternal Kingdom's five forbidden zones
Pleasure surged like a tide as I picked up the book.
[You have acquired the legendary craftsman's rare book!]
"Eye of Pallalian? A high-end appraisal item is needed to check the item?"
was the most expensive among the existing appraisal items.
put the appraisal on hold and examined the golden table.
can't salvage anything because of this effective system... price of my three months of work is very high."
[Pagma’s Rare Book]
paid 10 million won to purchase a capsule, and my loan interest rose by hundreds of thousands of won every month.
All merchants gave me a 20% discount when buying goods, and the goods I sold were purchased at 15% above their value.
residents who gave me hidden quests when I approached them. But all these achievements automatically flew away the moment this quest updated.
stab my sword in Ashur's mouth right now
man's level was 300 and was also a great magician who completed his third class change.
His escort knights had an average of level 180.
[opened stats:]
Composure
Indomitable
Dignity
Insight
combined several Korean characters together as a knight's sword rapidly headed towards me.
The level 1's low stamina dropped to 0 with a single hit from a level 180 knight.
an emaciated patient with an incurable disease... aftermath of not sleeping for three months while doing the quest... received was a loss of hundreds of millions of won and a minus level.
steathily crossed the living room, quietly did my business in the bathroom, washed up, moved back to the kitchen, and took out a side dish from the fridge...
barely managed to find a spoon in the darkness and returned to my room with a bowl of rice.
sausage fried rice."
There were 2,000 comments like these. I felt like an idiot.
Satisfy's system was configured to allow users to discover and develop themselves. There was no such thing as a customer service center like in other more traditional online games.
Satisfy's two billion users had been developing the world during the past year by pioneering and exchanging information on their own.
But in such a vast world, there was a lot of information that hadn't been revealed, such as the minus level that I was experiencing now.
Swaaah. [rain]
It was raining outside the window. According to the weather forecast, it was going to rain all day. It wasn't easy to get a labor job if he went out looking today. I ate the last of the rice and logged into the game again.
butterfly style doors
bowed to Lim Cheolho and adjusted her orange horn-rimmed glasses.
turned his gaze to the huge monitor on the wall and the stopped video started playing.
level 73 warrior.
An Asian youth found a cave at the northern end of an island, held Pagma's rare book, and used it.
staff handed two documents
read it and rubbed his chin.
According to the analysis from the development team's 'Morpheus' supercomputer, the North End Cave was supposed to be found by users in one year and ten months.
number of users who did their 2nd class advancement was less than 100, and he was now the sole legendary class in the game.
stayed in only one city for a year and accumulated more than 8,000 reputation in that city. His intelligence stat was also less than 50.
areas infested with monsters higher than level 200 for three months... even though he was less than level 80 and tasted death several times.
enjoyed the fragrance of the coffee that a staff member passed him
lost my place of residence because I was expelled from Patrian.
I resurrected at a temple near my place of death... actually a temple for the darkness of the god of darkness, Yatan.
Dark energy hung around the dark room, while robed black magicians wandered around with gloomy expressions. People were shouting and pounding their chests around an altar, but it was too creepy to watch.
The probability of receiving the 'weakened' state has become really high.
[Mamon's Greatsword]
Rating: Epic
Durability: 88/204 
Attack Power: 178~301
Attack Speed: -16%
-Additional water damage will be added to all critical attacks.
Clear Reward: 3,000 gold, a low probability of becoming the earl's son-in-law.
In the end, I yelled and swung Mamon's greatsword
The sensation of hitting something was transmitted through my fingertips as a scream was heard at the same time. I turned my gaze to the side of the greatsword and saw what just occurred: a believer wearing the robe of Yatan had collapsed with Mamon's greatsword in his neck. An ominous chill went down my spine.
"I was aiming at the crazy guy, so why did the person next to him..."
As I stared at the dying believer, a new notification window popped up.
[Your relationship with the Yatan church has become hostile.]
[You won't be able to receive Yatan's blessings.]
[The followers of Yatan will try to kill you when they find you.]
The atmosphere of the temple changed. While I was surrounded by dozens of Yatan believers, Doran got up and placed a hand on my shoulder and cried out, "Thank you!"
"Eh?"
[The quest has been accepted.]
At any rate, I had no luck. Perhaps I sold a country in my previous life.
The angry voices of the Yatan followers clamored around me. Their crazy eyes were filled with absolute hostility.
followers of Yatan were black magicians... strong curse abilities... difficult to deal with.
level -1
strength and stamina... only one point each.
Mengel's Plate Armour added five strength, for a total of six strength.
totalled a measly 34 health.
might be able to punch a few of them before going to the netherworld.
being surrounded by a rapidly increasing number of followers.
As I was planning out my actions, Doran shouted at me before pulling out two daggers and throwing them without delay. The hand gestures were so fast that it happened in an instant.
One of the daggers struck a person's eye while the other pierced another's heart. Doran narrowed the distance towards the pained believers and wielded his dagger.
believers couldn't even scream as their necks were sliced and they vanished into a flash of grey light.
lack of information meant I didn't know the exact levels of the Yatan believers, but
temple NPCs were generally at least level 150+. These believers were likely to be the same.
I began to cheer Doran on. "Good! Doran, fighting! I have admired you for a long time!"
"Eh? For a long time? When have you ever seen..."
ch. 6
18:12:54 – 18:38:02 Qi Peijia's The Legendary Mechanic
abruptly sprang up, ripping the wires off him, and made a clumsy beeline for the door.
pushed his way out into a white corridor, 
only to be greeted by a dozen or so guards suited in black and armed with electric batons advancing upon him from both sides.
gasped at the sight of the crest on their uniforms. It depicted half a plant.
The Germinal Organization from Planet Aquamarine in version one? Weren't they eliminated?
Is the pain caliberation at 100%‽
maximum of 40% because any higher setting could potentially cause nerve damage to players.
VR-capsule was also supposed to monitor the player's vitals to prevent this, but it was currently malfunctioning.
yanked him up and took him to a small room where they locked him up alone in pitch black darkness.
I've... transmigrated into Galaxy?
The game was set in a vast universe with a world map and landscapes that were procedurally generated using the latest generation of quantum computers.
scale of its world was massive... said to be able to run smoothly even with a billion concurrent players.
existed many organizations and companies that specialized in farming gold and running dungeons, and the best pieces of gear could even go for ridiculous prices of up to a million US dollars.
one of the despised power levelers and preferred to work solo.
since its very inception... through the numerous patches... made a name for himself. In the last annual top 100 rankings, he placed 47th.... what he enjoyed most about the game was the leveling experience.
currently in the year 687 of the Galaxy calendar, a year behind the updated timeline.
In Version 1, there were three universal powers... upholding a peace that had lasted for ten thousand years, since the era of exploration.
Commonwealth of Light, the Crimson Dynasty, and the Arcane Church.
The Silver Revolutionary Army had yet to be formed
the one responsible for the Supernatural Disaster was still fighting for dear life on some desolate planet
the World of Light had not come into existence
the civilization of the World Tree had not yet invaded from the beyond
the Shattered Belt that contained Planet Aquamarine was still budding inconspicuously along the fringes of the explored universe.
he had been injected with Valkyrie, one of the Germinal's gene altering drugs that was used to strengthen the brain.... had a survival rate of only 30%, but this body had reacted positively to it.
Model: NPC (Countdown to Version 1.0 launch: 358 days 11 hours 03 minutes)
[Piece of trash with a combat strength of 5; pick any NPC out from the streets and he will wipe the floor with you a hundred times! A hundred times!]
furrowed his brows as he organized his thoughts.
still access the system's interface despite being classified as an NPC.
suggested that he could still level up like a player
Didn't people who transmigrated normally receive perks such as resources, companions, or... at least an ex-girlfriend?
only had one life here. If he died then that would be the end of it. It would be a pity.
'I want to survive!' would be a normal line of thought.
As for variations such as 'My fate is not for the heavens to decide; if the heavens want to erase me, then I will erase the heavens!' or 'Swallow an aurous core to transcend life and death', such ramblings were exclusive to people with second-grade syndrome.
"What the hell, why am I the only one SAO-ed?" Han Xiao lamented.
door opened, and several people walked in.... could only make out their silhouettes due to the light streaming in from outside... make out from their outlines that one of them was a woman with a fiery figure.
voice that was smooth, yet intertwined with an ever-so-faint rasp, reminiscent of a cup of rich coffee.
ch. 1
18:41:45 – 18:49:14 pirateaba's The Wandering Inn
Cliffs of stone slowly ridding themselves of vegetation and life, rising without end, promising to wall off the world except in this one spot where a gap had been chiseled. [hot damn!]
inn... might catch a glimpse of the roof, sagging in places but still mostly intact, of the chipped plant peeling along some shutters slightly moldy with disuse.
When armies marched, it had been abandoned, then later reclaimed. [surprised no one tore it down for scraps or to make new structures and all, I imagine that'd be the most realistic ending for it, historically at least]
inn waited. The Skills and care that had been put into the old wood, the magic etched into the bones of this building remained
stumbled through the thick grass... few panting breaths... desperate sprinting had long since turned to weary trudging
smelled of brimstone and fire.
clutched at her right arm, and the t-shirt she wore was charred, as was her arm.
inn was a gathering place. Somewhere to meet people, to rest, a point along your travels. Somewhere an epic quest could begin, or where the weary traveler could sit around a warm fire.
looked over her shoulder...
the strange land of hills and those impossibly huge mountains were overwhelming.
bereft of any artificial light.
ch. 1.00
18:58:09 – 19:06:20 Robert Hugh Benson's The Necromancers
a small, delicate-looking old lady
the silvery hair of the devout widow
crowned with an exquisite lace cap
in a filmy black dress
a complexion of precious china
kind shortsighted blue eyes
white blue-veined hands busy now upon needlework.
bore about with her always an atmosphere of piety, humble, tender, and sincere, but as persistent as the gentle sandalwood aroma which breathed from her dress.
Her theory of the universe, as the girl who watched her now was beginning to find out, was impregnable and unapproachable.
the rosewood table on which the September morning sun fell with serene beauty did not conflict as it ought to have done with the Tudor paneling of the room.
A tapestry screen veiled the door into the hall,  
and soft curtains of velvety gold hung on either side of the tall
ch. 1
June 17, 2026
20:33:11 – 20:55:07 Park Saenal's Overgeared
A line of blood was drawn on Doran's face, and black energy rose like a mist to cover Doran.
oarsman
green light flowed from the ring Doran was wearing and surrounded him.... complexion was gradually restored.
ring was clearly had [sic] an Epic or higher rating.
[A legend doesn't die easily. You can resist all attacks for 5 seconds with the minimum amount of health.]
temporarily had an immortal body
average level of black magician users was level 53... Out of the 120,000 classes in Satisfy, the black magicians had the lowest average level.
reached level 230, resulting in new wings
* Guardian of Yatan's Temple: Faith +300, Health +1,000, Intelligence +60
You are an example to other believers after defending the dignity of God Yatan. God Yatan will bless you more, and the faithful will worship you.
Quest Failure: Level -2, Faith -250.
a higher resistance than an NPC who had completed the third class advancement.
"Did he yield the quest to me...?"
She felt helpless and received Grid's sympathy. 
That day became the worst day to Yura, of when he sturdy pride was thoroughly shattered.
Yura, I just typed it in and hundreds, no, thousands of related links filled the screen. I only checked the postings of highly popular blogs and large-scale communities and managed to get information about Yura.
'That is the modern world now.'
I opened up the hologram keyboard and started to comment on Yura related posts one by one.
'Yura is garbage. She interfered in the quest of a low-level user. Sher is completely different from her appearance on TV. Her personality is rotten.'
I continued posting comments. My ten fingers tapped against the hologram keyboard that glowed in the darkness. A person tapping on the keyboard in the darkened room, someone who saw it might think it was beautiful and mysterious.
No, why are you eating rice in your room in the first place? You should eat together with us
empty rice bowls and side dishes
I scratched my hips above my underwear while heading to the kitchen.
reporter was greeting an Asian youth around my age. There was a close up of the young man's face. At the bottom of the screen, the ID 'Katz' and level '203' appeared as subtitles.
"Kats is already level 200?' [sic with the double and then single quotation mark]
at the top of the unified rankings.
My status resistance was extremely high, and the immortal mode that lasted five seconds was a scam.
The scene switched back to the studio, with a panel filled with excerpts discussed the man in question, me. I called the broadcaseting station right away.
(Hello, this is BCC's viewers consulation center. How can I help you?)
"The man from the breaking news. Aren't you looking for him right now? The person who fought Yura."
(Yes. Do you have a tip?)
"The person is me."
Ch. 10
20:55:36 – 21:07:13 Qi Peijia's The Legendary Mechanic
A character with at least ten points in Intelligence would be immune to the effects of the brainwash.
Valkyrie had given Han Xiao a +1 boost to the growth potential of his Endurance.
Growth potential was an innate stat that affected the growth rate of the affected stat.
Different races had different starting potentials in each stat, and in the entire world of Galaxy, humans generally had  a mediocre growth rate.
They did, however, boast the highest intelligence potential.
As they also possessed the lowest Health, this single point in Endurance growth potential was nice to have.
[Concentration] gave him a 10% increase in mastery and crafting speeds, also increasing their success rates.
[Low Level Willpower] gave him three points of Willpower, which substituted for three points of Intelligence, so he still lacked three more intelligence to survive the brainwash.
Leveling the Cilivian class will boost a random stat by one, and also give me one unassigned stat point... but the chance for Intelligence to be boosted is extremely low...
<<Tom's Introduction to Machinery>>
<<A Theory of Human Genes and Lizard Genes>>
<<Randt's Hypothesis>>
You have completed one session of self-learning in basic machinery knowledge!
[Basic Assembly] has progressed by 2.0% (based on your Intelligence).
(+0.2% from Concentration)
Having gained two unassigned stat points from unlocking the Mechanic class, Han Xiao still needed one more Intelligence in order to endure the brainwash.
Go to hell! How much, exactly, are you obsessed with brains?
[Mechanic (Novice)] has leveled up.
You are being Brainwashed (Low Level)
Your INT: 7
Your Resistance: 3
Brainwash Failed
Hila (Lv. 30) has taught you [Basic Combat]
Progress Rate: 5%
ch. 3
21:08:05 – 21:15:06 pirateaba's The Wandering Inn
a library long-abandoned
and straight into the first wet, cold raindrops.... got a faceful of water, and ran inside as the skies opened up.
Just a worn, overturned chair, clearly the sufferer of a thousand bottoms.
righted the chair
brushed the chair off and sat down
a dustrag
a giant, old-fashioened baker's oven that led up to a presumed chimney.
"Dustragdustragdustragdustragdustra—"
21:15:35 – 21:37:35 Cuttlefish That Loves Diving's Lord of the Mysteries
dark-colored pen... brass revolver
moon hung high above the backdrop of a 'black velvet curtain,' glowing in silence
same grayish-white pipe on the wall at the height of a person.... connected to a strange mechanical device with exposed gears and bearings in several spots.
A clear reflection appeared in the mirror.
His temple had a grotesque wound with burn marks along its periphery. 
Blood stained the wound's surroundings and there were grayish-white brain juices squirming slowly within.
metallic-gridded lamp on the wall right beside the study desk
"The restorative effects that transmigration brings?"
public bathroom which was shared by the tenants on the second floor.
lightened his footsteps as he walked towards the communal bathroom with a shuddering fear.
If the water gushed too loudly, Mr. Franky would ignore all of his gentlemanly traits by flailing his walking stick and striking the bathroom's door, shouting things like 'Darn thief,' 'Wastage is a shameless matter,' 'I'll remember you,' 'If I see this happen another time, scram along with your filthy luggage,' 'Mark my words, this is the most value-for-money apartment in Tingen City. You will not find a more kindly landlord anywhere else!'
used a moist towel to clean the blood stains from his face again and again.
As a qualified keyboard politician, keyboard historian, keyboard economist, keyboard biologist, and keyboard folklorist, he had always deemed himself as 'knowing something of everything.' Of course, his best buddy would often mock him as 'only knowing a little of everything.'
'Quintessential Divination and Arcane Arts of the Qin and Han Dynasty' at an old bookstore
a spate of bad luck
All he needed was to get four potions of the staple food in his area and place them in the four corners of his room.
They could be placed on furniture such as tables and cupboards. Then, standing in the middle of the room, he had to take four steps in a counter-clockwise fashion to make a square. The first step required him to sincerely chant 'Blessings Stem From The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth.' The second step was to silently chant, 'Blessings Stem From The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth.' The third step was 'Blessings Stem From The Exalted Thearch of Heaven and Earth,' and the fourth step was 'Blessings Stem From the Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth.' After the four steps were taken, he needed to close his eyes and wait five minutes in his original spot. Only then would the ritual be considered complete.
There is a distinct possibility that it's [transmigration] due to that luck enchancement ritual... Yes, I should give it a try here tomorrow. If it's really because of that, I stand a chance of transmigrating back!"
Regardless, he had to give it a try!
He had to attempt a Hail Mary!
In less than three years, under the premise that numerous church schools would be incorporated, many public primary schools were established to strictly maintain the principle of religious neutrality. This was to prevent education from involving itself in the conflicts between the Lord of Storms, Evernight Goddess, and the God of Steam and Machinery.
Sunday school that only cost a copper penny a week... public primary school's cost of three pence a week... rather expensive.
However... former... provided education every Sunday... latter provided six days of classes a week.... price was so low that it was almost free.
ch. 3
21:38:24 – 21:44:06 Wildbow's Worm
The buzzing at the edge of my consciousness was getting worse.
My hands shook as I bent over and gripped the edge of the sink, let out a long, slow breath, and let my defenses drop.
For three months, I'd held back. Right now? I don't care anymore.
I shut my eyes and felt the buzzing crystallize into concrete information. As numerous as stars in the night sky, tiny knots of intricate data filled the area around me.
I could focus on each one in turn, pick out details.
The clusters of data had been reflexively drifting towards me since I was first splashed in the face.
They responded to my subconscious thoughts and emotions, as much of a reflection of my frustration, my anger, my hatred for those three girls as my pounding heart and trembling heart were.
I could make them stop or direct them to move almost without thinking about it, the same way I could raise an arm or twitch a finger.
On every surface of the bathroom were bugs;
Flies, ants, spiders, centipedes, millipedes, earwigs, beetles, wasps and bees.
primitive bundles of signals and responses, waiting for further instruction.
ch. 1.01
June 18, 2026
18:06:00 Sarah Dunant's In the Company of the Courtesan
plucking her eyebrows and biting color into her lips
army blew a hole in the wall of God's eternal city
letting in a flood of half-starved, half-crazed troops bent on pillage and punishment
Italy was a living chessboard
Rumors crept like bad smells through the streets.
stonemasons shoring up the city walls told of a mighty army of Spaniards, their savagery honed on the barbarians of the New World, swelled with cohorts of German Lutherans fueled on the juices of the nuns they had raped on their journey south.
Roman defense... marched through the tow  touting for volunteers for the barricades, these same bloodthirsty giants became half-dead men marching on their knees,
their assholes close to the ground to dispel all the rotting food and bad wine they had guzzled on the way.
drown them in our piss and mockery as they tried to scale their way upward.
June 19, 2026
20:32:45 – 20:50:11 Void Herald's The Perfect Run 
New Rome
a tank truck
Bliss-addict meth-head
Built around the shores of the gulf of Naples years after Mechron's drones bombed it to oblivion, it had the tallest buildings Ryan had seen since the end of the Genome Wars.
Dynamis Tower north of town... a glass spire... corporate money had built New Rome... no gods nor kings. Only money.
pristine Mediterranean Sea, glittering with the sunset while a distant island cast a long shadow on the horizon;
on his right, he could glance at the countless casinos, gambling dens, and luxury hotels that drew so many tourists to the city.
famous Colosseum Maximus, a modern replica of the old world's Colosseum.
Quicksave costume... 
a metal, mouthless mask with two rounded glasses for eyes,
black hair beneath a black top hat
a navy blue trench coat
a purple shirt
blue pants
black gloves
boots
style incarnate
hot to wear, and not very practical for fighting, but it looked amazing. To Quicksave, that was all that mattered.
publicity boards
superheroine Wyvern, a beautiful amazon of a woman with shoulder-length black hair, sharp greyish eyes, nad a white bodysuit, showing off her muscles with a green potion in the background.
'Want to be as strong as Wyvern? With our Hercules Elixir, what Hercules did in twelve labors, you will do in an afternoon!'
'One hundred thousand euros, only at Dynamis!'
everyone wanted to be a Genome these days
superpowers-in-a-can
although he had taken the real stuff, not a cheap knockoff giving just a fraction of a real superpower.
an unremarkable pub located between an Italian restaurant and a closed nightclub.
Parking his car nearby, the courier stepped down and opened his trunk.
His tools, computers, and weapons formed a mass of metal almost overflowing from the car;
although none compared to his white rabbit plushie, the most devastating tool in his arsenal.
the black briefcase he had been hired to deliver, seized it, closed the trunk, and then entered the pub.
a cozy place with ten tables, only a third of them occupied.
noticed some Latin muchacho trying to impress his date by levitating a coin in the air—
he must have wasted fifty thousand bucks on a knockoff elixir.
a balding, wrinkled old man with tanned skin stood behind the counter, looking at the newcomer suspiciously.
addressed the carbon-based lifeform called a barman.
ch. 1
20:52:57 – 21:02:07 Gu Zhen Ren's Reverend Insanity 
Spring Autumn Cicada
deep green robes that had been torn to shreds
hair was disheveled
entire body was covered in blood
bloody robes waved lightly in the mountain breeze like war flag.
Fresh blood flowed from the numerous wounds on his body.
a large pool of blood beneath his feet.
gaze was limpid, his eyes like deep pools of water in a well
everyone was wary of Fang Yuan's final attack.
By now the gray mountain rock beneath Fang Yuan's feet had long been stained a deep red.
in the afterglow of the sunset, it suddenly had a brilliant luster upon it.
sun sets above the blue mountain, the autumn moon with the wind of spring.
morning is fine like hair and night is like snow
memories of his previous life on Earth
originally a Chinese scholar who chanced upon this world...
endured a hard life for 300 years and went through another 200 years;
over 500 years of his life flew by in the blink of an eye.
"I failed in the end." Fang Yuan sighed in his heart emotionally, yet there were no regrets.
To be a demon is to merciless and cruel, a murderer and destroyer.
next life
The group of warlords surged forward;
with a loud bang, Fang Yuan was engulfed in a blinding surge of energy.
spring rain quietly rained down [lmao, rain rained down] on Qing Mao Mountain
ch. 1
June 20, 2026
14:15:00 Sarah Dunant's In The Company of the Courtesan 
It is a shame that they ended up as enemies, for they had much in common. They were both strangers to Rome, both grom humble beginnings but with enough of an education to be unafraid of those more powerful yet more stupid than themselves. They each had a sharp wit and an even sharper hunger fir the wealth it could bring them, snd they seemed not to recognize the meaning of failure. If she was younger and more beautiful, then that was only fair, since women make their fortunes from their looks, not their pens. And if he had a crueler mouth, well, that was because, for all her experience of the flesh, he was as much a whore as she was, though he made his living by selling his wit rarher than his body.
By the time they met, they were each established in their different ways. Aretino had wormed his way into the outer circle of Leo X, where his tart reporting on the scandals of the day brought him to the attention of one Cardinal Giuliano d'Medici, who became his patrin as much to deflect the vitriol from himself as to target it toward other people. When Leo died and the papal crown was there for the taking, Aretibi did such a good job of insulting all of Giuliano's rivals that when one of them became pope instead, it was safer for him to disappear for a while. He came back two years later for the next papal election, where his horse finally won the race. Enter Clement VII.
By then my lady was herself a force to be reckoned with.
[By then I was myself a force to be reckoned with.]
15:29:57 Sarah Dunant's In The Company of the Courtesan 
With its books and ledgers and pens, it speaks of ordered management and perseverance.
22:28:37 – 22:35:20 Wildbow's Worm 
souped up motorcycle
the tines of a grappling hook retreating back into the end of the weapon
'cape city'
headquarted in the floating, forcefield-shrouded island that you could see from the Boardwalk.
Poseable Armsmaster with interchangeable Halberd parts.
body armor, dark blue with silver highlights, had a sharply angled v-shaped visor covering his eyes and nose.
only the lower half of his face exposed,
could see a beard trimmed to trace the edges of his jaw
late twenties or early thirties
plasma injectors
fire off directed electromagnetic pulses to shut down forcefields and mechanical devices.
turned my eyes from that opaque visor.
chest emblem, a silhouette of his visor in blue against a silver background
once owned a pair of underpants with his emblem on the front.
ch. 1.06
19:37:42 – 19:56:49  Cuttlefish That Loves Diving's Lord of the Mysteries 
as the origin of all languages in the Northern Continent, the ancient language of Feysac was something all the children of nobles and of the wealthy class would learn from a young age.
revolver... a semi-regulated item!
pulled open a desk drawer and threw the revolver in before slamming it close.
a silver vine-leaf pocket watch and pressed the top gently, causing its cover to flip open.
a picture of the siblings' father.
often malfunction from time to time in recent years even though he had gotten a watchsmith to fix it.
borrowed the tools from her Technical School to fiddle with the pocket watch. Recently, she even claimed to have fixed it!
watch's open cover and saw that the second hand was not moving.
Subconsciously, he twisted the top dial to wind the pocket watch.
despite winding it a few times, he did not hear the sound of taut springs.... second hand remained motionless.
Isn't pulling the button up usually meant to adjust the time... Zhou Mingrui's expression immediately turned blank.
a bell chimed from a faraway cathedral. It chimed six times., sounding distant and ethereal.
tilted her head to listen to it and pulled the button up once again.
Why did her expression have a look of disparagement and resignation?
Is it a look of love and concern for a retarded brother?
Before the water boiled, she opened the cupboard's lowest drawer and took out what seemed like a treasure—a can of inferior tea leaves.
She threw about ten leaves into the pot and pretended that it was real tea.
rye bread
no sawdust or excessive gluten mixed in
her black hair that reached down to her vest
mutton and peas
a tattered veil cap
a self-sewn bag used to carry her books and stationery
public horse carriages that cost a penny a kilometer with a limit of four pence in the city and six pence in the city outskirts.
In order to save money, Melissa would leave ahead of time and walk to school.
Northern Continent had seven orthodox gods—the Eternal Blazing Sun, the Lord of Storms, the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, the Evernight Goddess, Mother Earth, the God of War, and the God of Steam and Machinery.
A black vest with a matching suit, trousers that clung tightly to his legs, a halved top hat and his faint scholarly air made Zhou Mingrui feel like he was watching an English drama set in the Victorian era.
took off his suit and vest, switching to a brownish-yellow coat...
also changed to a felt hat with a rounded edge of the same color.
ch. 4
June 28, 2026
11:39:05 – 11:46:55 Linda Lay Shuler's She Who Remembers 
(pg. 16) the time of falling leaves
grinding corn on her metate
July 15, 2026
18:13:00 – 19:03:00 Sarah Dunant's In the Company of the Courtesan 
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
moaning rolled like a slow wind through the night
po glinting off their polished shields in
[[Leaf 1, Page 2]]
the moonlight
Fear spiked my gut as I scrambled back down onto the battlement
fatheaded, smiling devil
vineyards reaching to the battlements and a farmhouse built up and into the very stones of hte wall itself.
army... huddled in clumps around the building
a kick that missed my rear by a mile
lay the great table in the gold room
the great agate vaces [[sic]], the silver plates, the majolica dishes, the gilded crystal Murano drinking glasses, and the best linens
embroidered silk hangings, then the heavy Flemish tapestries, and packed into two chests
ornate with gilt and wood marquetry that it has to be covered again with the burlap to save it from the damp.
a modest house of modest wealth with a smattering of ornaments, two lutes, a pious Madonna in the bedroom, and a wood panel of fleshy nymphs in the salon
a fog had crept up from the marshes behind the enemy lines, thick and gloomy as broth, enveloping the massing attackers below
From that first opening, they flowed
[[Leaf 2, Page 3]]
up and over into the city like a great wave of cockroaches.
carts and the mules finally rode out of Rome, laden with gold plate and tapestries
drawbridge rising up after him with the invaders in sight and a dozen priests and courtiers still hanging from its chains, until they had to shake them off and watch them drown in the moat below.
the cook, was in the doorway, his face and upper arms shining with sweat and grease from the spit,
slapped her hands on the table, hard enough to make the cutlery rattle.
blue dress with the high neck from my chest and a pair of satin slippers to match.
rough [?]
took the corner howling, nine or ten of them in front, their swords out, and their clothes half off them, mouths open like bla black pits, bodies jerky and wild
dragging a cart piled high
smashing the ax down, on the window frame of the spice merchant's house on the corner
fluttering screams
a city of rich celibates who needed
[[Leaf 2, Page 4]]
to pretend virtue even when they walked the streets with their cocks up like flagpoles underneath their clerics' robes.
a dusting of peach blush to them
hair like a golden river in spring flood, its hues as rich as the rush of the waters; streams of white gold and sunflower mixed with honey and red chestnut
club-limbed peasants
in a thick voice
his face black from the soot of spent shot
stock-still
Along the line of the roof, three guns and half a dozen broomstick handles fashioned crudely to resemble gun barrels sat trained down onto the street.
soldiers yelping in delight at our pathetic subterfuge.
suckling pig with truffle sauce, roast capan, salted pike, and the choice of finest salamis
marzipan, milk puddings, and sugared fruits
a carved bed and a goosefeather mattress soft as a cloud.
pricked copper pomades and spun them through the air in the candlelight, though t
[[Leaf 3, Page 5]]
their musk perfume offered scant relief against the so many gaping mouths belching bad breath.
pg. 18
July 20, 2026
07:45:50 – 07:56:03 M. I. McAllister's The Mistmantle Chronicles (Book 1): Urchin of the Riding Stars 
From the highest point of Watchtop hill, Urchin could see the whole island.
dragged rough branches up this hill
wood for their bonfire... stacked up so high that Urchin knew he had to climb it.
Springing swiftly from one branch to the next,
twirling his tail to balance himself
reached the very top
gripped with his hind claws
dusted moss from his fur
still as pale as honey
with the red squirrel color only at the tips of his ear and tail.
straighted up, shook his ears, and looked out over Mistmantle
he felt he was lord of the island.
a night of riding stars
animals would gather here as the air turned cool, light the bonfire, watch the stars swirl and dance through the darkening sky
Anemone Wood spread out below him to the south
with a first touch of autumn turning the leaves to crisp gold.
Farther away, on the shore, otters chased each other in play.
pg. 10
08:27:32 – 08:38:15 Hilaire Belloc's The Cruise of the Nona 
faint breaths of air, 
which rose and died again like memories.
hot, steady summer weather
in which one may play a drifting match for days on end.
mountains... a little blacker than the sky.... astonishingly low... on a moonless night
wind had freshened somewhat... when the dawn began to show beyond Snowdon,
and those great hills at once looked higher against the glimmer grey light.
Soon the whole coast was apparent.
ch. 1
08:29:00 – 08:38:22 Midnight Diaries - dragons-nest 
And I'm not saying they suck or shouldn't do it. I just think the uhh celebration of progress is a little early when you've JUST STARTED like you haven't MADE progress yet. Love the excitement but you don't need to tell me how much you've improved cuz I mean, 
you just started.
( working set of 5 x 75) [sic]
huge IBS flare up (from eating too much pear and then being unable to digest the sugar alcohol)
I am a bit miffed by people saying things like "naturally thin".
msg. 12
09:26:53 https://local-labyrinth.neocities.org/cont/diary202607 
20260718
my new pair of shitty usb-c earbuds entail the opportunity to listen to podcasts on my walks. as everyone is aware, we must optimize our opportunities for consumption. why go on a walk and think when you could walk around and continue doomscrolling----errr, doomlistening and stroking your ego. after all, all the productivity gurus promote 
LISTEN TO PODCASTS. what podcasts? why? when? how much and how often? how much attention should we pay? do fiction podcasts count? does the podcast matter---no, one must merely LISTEN TO PODCASTS. preferably the one created by the self-help guru who is telling you to LISTEN TO PODCASTS.
13:10:04 Midnight Diaries - ethereal-dreamscape 
I love happy songs so much.
17:21:37 Midnight Diaries - 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑦-𝐴𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑒-𝑇𝑟𝑒𝑒🌴 
๐·°(৹˃ᗝ˂৹)°·๐
July 23, 2026
17:11:05 – 17:20:46 Reif Larsen's I Am Radar 
sweating lightly into his cotton underwear
holding out his hands like a beggar
imminent cranium
wheeled around
trying to locate the sans serif glow of the emergency exit sign across the hall
but this too had gone dark.
giant, deep-cycle batteries outside the ICU
conical crown of the baby's skull
shepherded the child from its wet, coiled womb into a new kind of darkness
bathed in a syrupy yellow light.
transceiver radio and a telegraph key into the birthing room 
waving a pocket flashlight wrapped in tinfoil at the space between his wife's legs.
accent was vaguely Slavic, the fins of his words dipping their uvular tips into a smooth lake of water.
glistened the torpedo-like head of the child, covered in a white, waxen substance.
the starfish body tumbling out into the dim mustard glow of this world.
mended the cathode ruptures and fizzled diodes of his broken radios and televisions
taken the old Buick up and over the curb onto a low, half-moon shrubbery,
which had not weathered the trespass well at all.
battered shrubs
mildewed basement of a Bosnian hotel on the River Sana
tiny and pink in their mother's arms, sheltered by a horsehair blanket while they rode in the back of a sputtering diesel truck past homes that burned and hissed against a light rain.
her body grew soft and light like a bird's
buried her in an abandoned vineyard on the outskirts of Zagreb.
pg. 5
17:24:00 – 17:39:00 Reif Larsen's I Am Radar 
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
moth-eaten bread
squad colonel
sharnk into herself, a reverse blossoming, coming to rest in a a sitting position, like a ruminative Buddha.
limited sexual encounters—in a Meadowlands parking lot; in a Saigon bordello; behind the vestry of St. Saua's; in the synthetic floral blossom of his dentist's bathroom—
these moments at carnal agency were still inflected with the lingering sense of crossing a hostile border.
Under the pocket light's dull beam, hte child appeared almost prehistoric.
newborn's skin was covered in a white, gooey plaster.
as if he were not a baby, but a statue mold of a baby—a golem complete with tiny plastic penis.
Kervin stared.
He wanted to press his head into this creature's clay skin, to test its warmth.
but already here was the first
[[Leaf 1, Page 2]]
signs of life:
-
the statue-child was squirming, clawing for oxygen, expellling the first sticky mew of a cry, his tiny mouth working the air for the solidity of a nipple.
pocket light... dipping before he righted its beam again.
words swung and gimballed.
a pastel blanket.
pg. 7
August 1, 2026
14:45:00 – 15:27:00 I  Am Radar by Reif Larsen 
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
pitch-black skin glistened in the hard flourescent light of the church.
the wafts of incence swirling around him
lean against the folds of his mother's dress
mountaintop bivouac
give a little hiccuping sob in the other room
chorus of car alarms wailing outside.
Through the curtains she saw lights flicking on, people emerging onto their front porches.
He folded into her, quieting.
small hand tapped at the shelf of her clavicle.
the thousand invisible forces acting uipon her.
hazy memory of a counterfeit existence.
She clutched him. His breath against her neck. Those fierce scoops of oxygen.... Breathing.
[[Leaf 2, Page 2]]
A yawning, empty space where its canopy had once resided.
a neighbor who was standing nearby, smoking a cigarette in his bathrobe.
heat from the internet electricity had burst the tree like a melon.
dislodging a missile-size log from Mrs. Garrison's front window.
roar of chain saws filled the night.
hit by a horrific wash of burnt flesh.
washed and rewashed her hands
fetched Dr. Fitzgerald's handwritten letter from the manila folder.
dialed the number beneath the letterhead.
The voice shifted. She could hear the squeak of a chair in the background.
fell into the plush confines of his expertise.
twisting hospital complex next to the old city jail.
Though he was already well into his sixties, he seemed both younger and older than this—perhaps it was the way in which he quoted Japanese proverbs with ease while sipping on a can of Tab soda.
a soft-spoken Sedona guru pursued by legions of followers.
youngest chaired professor
sublimate racial populations within the extrem-
[[Leaf 2, Page 3]]
-ely dubious discipline of "race science."
a silent child. Even when his cries were fleeting muted affairs
Charlene stared. A button depressed.
a literary cauldron
talk of books quickened her pulse and dampened the divot just above her lip.
find that books are essential to my profession. I'm a better surgeon if a story has its claws in me.
All I need is a little dose of Melville or Dickens and his dirty alleyways, and my scalpel grows [[always thought this word was interesting]] steady.
had a vision of him lounging in his surgeon's gown [[need to get used to this word]] between surgeries, his feet thown up on the operating table as he savored the last few pages of [[crossed out an asterisk here before deciding to just move to next line due to lack of space for the word "Bleak"]] Bleak House.
pg. 35
15:31:00 – 15:53:00 She Who Remembers by Linda Lay Shuler 
From the pouch at his side he took a two-pronged hook and strapped it to his waist.
set the bow, fitted the arrow into a groove on the strange crossbar, and locked the arrow in place.
aimed at a tiny window near the ceiling where faces appeared.
sighted over his right thumb,
[[Leaf 3, Page 4]]
Hostility melted in the Chief's gratified smile.
From his pouch, Kokopelli removed the rattle with hte small copper bells.
Shaking it, he swept the bow in circles overhead.
He permitted the rattle to hiss and to ring a blessing.
hid her face in the blanket.
head popped from the blanket like a squirrel from its hole
Dim firelight reflected his golden ornaments and the splendor of his multicolored mantle.
Again, the rattle hissed and sang.
The rattle hushed [from buzz of excitement?].
lurks beside the mountain pass,
*hurls the lightning's blinding flower, [[forgot to put ending asterisk here]]
hovers in the air above the home.
took a small bell from his pouch.
held it between his thumb and forefinger and jingled it with delight—a clear, high, insistent little voice from far away.
two scarlet feathers.
pg. 87
August 20, 2026
20:47:00 – 21:43:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs 
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
product of their genetic fusion
infantile tyrant
[[Leaf 1, Page 2]]
shouted from her position on the sofa,
legs folded up beneath her
absently twisted the tassel on her long crocheted vest.
sleep next to the boiler
added a splash grew red as he added a splash of tonic water to his glass.
stood next to him, leaning her back against the teak bookcase.
so repressed you mistake creative passion for hysterics.
sitting at [why “at”?] the dining-room table fastening and unfastening the lobster claw clasp on the gold chain my mother had brought me in Amherst
blood began to form under his ear
nudged his bad knee with her red toe.
smiled down at him, blowing smoke through her nostrils.
polyester tan pants
blue shirt with the vest clerverly sewn on.
double-knit slacks
14k plate gold-plated signet ring with a Q-tip
pine trees can become Panavision cameras.
Mine was a how the light was falling on my face and if that branch was catching it just right.
Mine was a delusional world filled with
[[Leaf 2, Page 3]]
tall trees that held long lenses and followed me in dollies.
- 
A fallen branch in the woods was not a fallen branch; it was “my mark.”
When I wasn’t “on the set” throwing branches around with my bionic arm or doing a toothpaste commercial in front of a boulder. I was trying to trick my mother into taking me to the doctor.
weekly allergy shots—eleven in each arm.
a red suit trimmed with white fur
brown polyester slacks and a short-sleeved button-down white shirt.
She bit the nail at her thumb, her brow creased with worry. She’d
She’d granwed off all the polish and the nail itself was chewed down to the quick.
removing his black heavy black coat and draping it over the chair in the front hall.
bologna sandwichg with horseradish
smiled, causing the white whiskers of his mustache to twitch as he chewed.
should be in a department store letting kids pee on his lap and whisper brand-name bicycles in his ear.
imagining her riffling through our outdated Yellow Pages or reading restroom stall walls.
hodgepodge of rooms
pale yellow paint on the walls that was peeling off in sheets,
cracked rattan furniture,
[[Leaf 3, Page 4]]
- 
an old gray metal file cabinet on top of which was a Mr. Coffee.
posters of rainbows and balloons on the wall.
thick blanket of dust covered everything.
a middle room that was used for storage boxes and decade-old magazines.
leather butterfly barrette
trim black wool slacks
knit tops, even in the summer.
elephant pin
ladybug earrings
a silver bracelet made of two dogs chasing each other’s tails.
walls hung with exotic and expensive tapestries, polished marble floors, columns that stretched for hundreds of feet.
water fountains out front, with hedges trimmed into the shapes of zoo animals.
When I returned, Hope was sitting behind a her desk, typing on a page she’d inserted into her black manual typewriter.
a white nurse’s cap
Life would be fabric-softener, tuna-salad-on-white, PTA-meeting normal.
masturbatorium
rattan siwvel chair and folded his arms behind
[[Leaf 4, Page 5]]
his head.
floral love seat
razor-stubbled legs were tightly crossed
wore leather sandals with thin straps and tapped her foot in the air nervously.
She lit her third More.
pg. 31
22:40:00 – 23:17:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs 
blew a cloud of smoke over her head.
crushing her cigarette out in the soil of the potted jade plant on the coffee table.
face tightened with pride and she raised her chin slightly.
exploded in laughter, slapping her thigh.
a rare psychotic-confessional-poet stain of salmonella.
a copy of The New York Times from the low glass-topped rattan table in front of his chair.
flushed slightly and he adjusted his belt buckle.
looked at the closed door, could picture the ratty door couch in the room behind it;
the bookcases filled with drug samples;
the ancient copies of The New English Journal of Medicine.
could picture the Penthouse
[[Leaf 4, Page 6]]
magazines, columns of them, next to the sofa.
airbrushed vaginas
colorful crocheted throw Hope had
the tassels along the edge were stuck together.
She tossed her cigarette on the floor and mashed it out with the toe of her sandal.
brushed imaginary lint of the front of her black turtleneck.
shrunk against the back of the sofa.
office was stuffy, hot.
for in the window that was blowing out.
turn it so it blew into the room.
better to blow the hot air out of the room, as opposed to sucking the warm air in.
absently stacking a pile of insurance forms on her desk.
walked over to the small table next to the sofa and made myself a cup of hot water with Cremora.
gently brushed Wite-Out onto one of the forms.
held the page up to the light and checked her work.
excused myself to the bathroom to scrub my hands in scalding hot water.
pg. 37 [[talked to my mother midway so not so accurate time, also did this while crouching with the book on top of the bag while it was on the mall floor in the bazaar, using my thigh as to support my notebook for writing, and also cut the back of my right hand somehow somewhere perhaps while getting my stuff from the bag or with the pencil]]
August 21, 2026
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
20:35:00 – 21:44:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs 
pointing out the window… a pristine white Victorian with a slate roof and window’s walk on top.
silver Mercedes 450 SL parked sideways in the crushed clamshell driveway, roof down, M.D. plates shini glinting in the sun.
dressed up in pressed gray slacks, a crisp white shirt and a navy blazer
a gold-tone ID bracelet
double fireplace chimneys
tall front doors painted glossy black, porches fronted with latticework.
a protracted-jaw, New England money street.
pink house was pink and seemed to sag.
In a neighborhood of whispers, it was a shriek.
hit the blinker and slid the car over to the side of the road
killed the engine and tossed the keys in her bag.
got out of the car and I shielded my eyes from the sun as I scanned the house.
pink paint was peeling off, exposing veins and patches of bare wood.
windows lacked shutters and were covered with thick plastic
firmly packed earth that had the look of heavy foot traffic.
Parked crooked in the driveway with the nose touching the corner of the house was an
an old, gray Buick Skylark.
missing all its hubcaps.
[[Leaf 1, Page 2]]
pictured wires deep inside the wall crossing.
then sparking to make this sound, which was reminiscient of a chain saw in the distance.
Nobody answered the door, but I could make out the distinct sound of running from inside, a tinkle of piano keys and then a crash.
hit the buzzer again, holding it.
a lady hunchback with kinky, grayish, almost purple hair.
holding an electric can opener, the cord dangling to the floor.
She resembled a red candy cane without the red stripes.
leaned forward, head down, as if trying to assume th crash position in an airplane while standing.
narrow, creaky hallway that was next to the stairs.
house smelled of wet dog and something else. Fried eggs? And it was such a mess.
The runner I was standing on was so threadbare that it appeared to have melted into the floor beneath it.
strewn with clothes, newspapers and colorful plastic Big Wheel.
whispered, gripping my arm firmly.
glanced down at my pressed polyester slacks
and saw they had already collected lint.
plucked the strange animal hair off my knee and let it go,
watching it fall float to the floor.
fur everywhere, streaking across the
[[Leaf 2, Page 3]]
carpet, gathered in thick balls in the corners against the wall.
two ratty girls came running down the hallway, side by side.
both had long, greasy, stringy hair and dirty clothes.
wore shredded jeans that seemed to be held together by embroidery thread in all the colors of the rainbow.
patch of a pet leaf stitched onto the knee.
the old electroshock therapy machine was just under the stairs in the box next to the Hoover.
pulling at the stuffing that was leaking from a hole in the sofa’s arm.
reached into the tube, then wedged a quarter-inch of Pringles into her mouth.
chewed noisily, spilling crumbs down the front of her striped halter-top.
wiped her hands on her bare knees.
pulled a long clump of stuffing out of the arm and flicked it onto the floor.
cat, Freud, immediately leapt off the bookcase and pounced on the stuffing.
raised the tube up to her lips and tipped it, sliding the last of the crumbs into her mouth.
She tapped the bottom and it sounded like a small drum.
Then she threw the tube at the cat.
bolted the stuffing caught in his hind claw.
they opened the window and threw sardines down at people on the street.
They would have thrown the coffeemaker at the window too, if Hope hadn’t stopped them just in time.
[[Leaf 2, Page 4]]
turned on the light. It was a bare bulb, attached to a gilt bronze fixture bolted to the wall.
walls in the hallway were covered with brown burlap.
burlap a fascinating and original wall treatment,
ancient, peeling and dusty.
dragged the box from under the stairs.
kicked it gently as if to check for signs of life.
absently [this author loves this word] brushed at the front of my dress slacks.
instantly mortified and slipped [this transitive use] the blazer off, ltossing it carelessly onto the wing chair.
dove onto the sofa, stomach-first, then turned on her back.
Her arm hung off the couch and the back of her hand touched the floor.
lifting the machine.
picked up the other end and we hoisted it out of the box.
set the machine on the floor a and Vinnie Vickie kicked the box out of the way.
It knocked argainst the TV.
scrub under her tits a sponge to get rid of all the scrum.
[thing] jiggled and his laughing mouth was ringed with purple jam.
pg. 46
August 22, 2026
19:36:00 – 19:51:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs
kneeled in front of the sofa
picked up a wire and arrsnged it around Natalie’s neck.
pretended to plug the machine in by stuffing the cord under the sofa.
placed her hand on the dial.
need to place the bite guard in her mouth.”
reached over the table beside the sofa and grabbed a pen.
placed it in Natalie’s mouth and she clamped down on it.
opened her eyes and rolled them back in her head.
She screamed over the pen.
The wire under Natalie’s neck slipped out and Vickie tucked it back in.
“Nurse, increase the voltage,” she said.
reached over and turned the dial.
screamed louder and the pen flew out.
shaking with such force that I was worried she’d really hurt herself.
burst into tears and ran from the room.
Natalie stopped.
Vickie laughed.
disappeared down the hall, his cries of terror growing fainter as he ran deeper into the house.
sweating and red-faced.
squatting beneath the grand piano in the living room.
sat side by side, hands in their laps, like they were watching him do scales.
pinched a turd out on the bright blue wall-to-wall carpeting and Vickie and Natalie clapped.
grinned with his grape jelly mouth.
sitting at the kitchen table, which was piled high with dirty dishes caked with food… smoking a cigarette.
hugged me closer and stroked the back of my head with her hand.
picked her cigarette from the rim of a plate on the table and sucked the smoke into her lungs.
When she spoke, her words came out smoking.
took another drag from her cigarette, then plopped it into what was left of a glass of milk.
“I know this is all new for you and it’s very confusing. But this is a safe place. This is where we need to be. Right here in the doctor’s own home, with his family.”
Her eyes looked different. Wider, somehow. Not her own. They scared me. So did the roaches scrambling across the table, over the dishes, up the arm of a spatula.
A toilet flushed down the narrow hallway that led from the kitchen. There was a deep clearing of a throat, a rumble. Followed by the unlocking of a door.
pg. 50
20:01:00 – 20:34:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs
elbowed a plate out of the way and placed his hands on the table, clasping his fingers.
She was focused on the table. I followed her line of vision and I think she was looking at this one spoon that had a reflection of the ceiling light in it.
Almost like you could eat the light if you wanted to, like it was cereal.
rose from the table.
patted me on the head firmly, then turned and left.
mashed her cigarette out in the plate.
sighed.
As she exhaled she seemed to shrink into the chair.
Even her perfume seemed to fade.
She looked at her hands, turning them over in front of her face like they were misplaced artifacts she had pulled from the earth.
clutching a meat cleaver
an elf wearing a stocking cap with a bell on the end waving at me.
looked up at the clock on the wall, but it had no hands.
Someone had taken the clear plastic cover off the front and taken the hands away.
Seeing this caused my eyes to itch, so I pulled at my eyelids.
slammed my hand on the table and roaches scattered like a splash of water.
“Do what?” I said, hating her.
Her eyes scared me. They looked radioactive.
folded my arms across my chest and watched Freud jump onto the stove, stepping around the burners, settling in the center.
stood alone… dim electric buzz of the clock
as it secretly counted the seconds, the minutes, the hours.
Briefly, I fantasized about slicing my mother’s fingers off with the electric knife that was hanging by its cord from the curtain road.
fallen asleep in the wing chair with her head rolled back and her glasses perched on top of her head,
tangled in her violent perm.
snoring
television was blaring and rolling its screen like it was frustrated that nobody would watch it.
ten [years old]… after-school job helping two local dog trainers teach their black labs to retrieve.
One of them also had a wolf hybrid.
The whine I heard from upstairs sounded like that dog, only younger.
her eyes fluttered and she mumbled.
Automatically she reached for her black vinyl purse, an air conditioner–sized accessory that was never more than a foot from her body.
a ghoulish old lady, hands mangled by arthritis, crawling along the floor upstairs.
Her body was like a bag of sand that she was forced to drag around.
box of croutons and offered me one.
She shook the box.
The box looked old and worn, like it had been filled and refilled for many years.
popping a crouton into her mouth.
She turned sideways on the sofa to face me. “Obsessive compulsive neurotic. Thats the technical term for her condition.”
This sounded impossibly exotic and I immediately wished I was one too, whatever it was.
a nor’easter.
stairs themselves were tearing away from the wall and that every time somebody climbed them, they looked like they might come crashing down.
I liked that I hadn’t offended Hope about the house.
“Really?” What an exclusive, mysterious disease. I wanted it.
Hope began to laugh. When I asked her what was so funny, she laughed harder. Her eyes filled with tears.
“What is it?” I had to know. I loved Hope. Even though she was so old—twenty-eight—she was so much fun.
“The what?” The more I heard, the more incredible this creature became. I liked her very much.
She wound her index finger around next to her ear; sign language for crazy.
come on, open up. It’s Mme, Hope. And I’ve got a friend here I want you to meet. His name is Augusten. He’s twelve and his mother is a poet and you’ll really love him.”
pg. 63
20:40:00 – 20:50:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs
peered out into the hall, squinting against the bare lightbulb that was attached to a fixture on the wall.
moved forward and stuck out my hand for her to shake but she recoiled.
So I quickly tucked my hand back at my side and said, “Hi.”
sobbed and pulled a Kleenex out from the cuff of her gown. Her thin veneer of compsure began to crack and crumble down all around her.
she briefly eyed the white rubber piping along my sneaker bottoms.
brought her hands to her face to blot her nose, I noticed her hands were bright red, and etched with cracks.
taking a pair of Agnes’s tattered white underpants out of the standing water in the sink and slinging them over the curtain rod.
A thin layer of trust had formed in my mind, like a scab.
pg. 65
August 23, 2026
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
19:39:00 – 20:14:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs 
one of my stuffed animals at home that I was too old for now, that sat on the shelf in my closet, meshed against the wall back wall.
stopped biting the inside of my mouth and stared straight ahead, my eyes unfocused.
[[Leaf 2, Page 2]]
simply slid the brown station wagon up alongside the house and sat there waiting.
cried, running barefoot out of the house, over the dirt path to the street, to her window which was rolled all the way up.
continued to stare straight ahead, even as I banged on the glass.
Exhaust spilled out against the curb, and the car itself seemed weary, the engine sounding ready to fall out onto the street.
knocked again on the window, and finally she blinked, turned and saw me.
She slowly rolled down her window and leaned her head out.
turned back to the house, noticed I’d left the door wide open.
Then I realized it didn’t matter, somebody would close it. And I had more shoes in Amherst, anyway.
I walked around the front of the car to the passenger side and climbed in.
She had come back for me, just like she said she would.
Only, where was she?
I was like a packet of powdered Sea Monkeys and they were like water.
double-knit slacks were replaced by an old pair of Vickie’s jeans that Natalie found in a pile next to the clothes dryer.
wearing the virtually crotchless Levi’s
she said, “Oh, get over it. It’s just a little ventilation.”
I stopped trying to force my hair into a smooth, glossy sheet and instead let it run its unruly, curly course.
you could be a drummer with Blondie.”
Inside, I felt I’d aged two
[[Leaf 2, Page 3]]
years in the space of a few months.
pied-a-terre
only on the Donahue show.
I wondered what it would be like to see one without the title “Admitted Homosexual” floating in blocky type beneath his head.
popped another brown nugget into her mouth.
a tall, thin man with short black hair and a black mustache.
friendly brown eyes.
lowered his hand to waist height.
stuffing my hands in my pockets, trying to l [[realized “look” wouldn’t fit at the end of the line]] look casual.
“Yeah, well. You know, now that I’m staying here all the time, I wanted to get to know everybody.”
His eyes flashed and his warm smile vanished. “You’re staying here? You have a room here?”
pg. 71
20:19:00 – 20:24:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs 
Nutty, slightly sweet with a satisfying crunch.
see how the little pellets could become quite addictive.
bringing a whole handful to her mouth and tossing them back.
She crunched loudly
and turned her attention back to a soap opera.
walked into the center of town, up to the Smith College campus, then beyond all the way to Cooley Dickinson Hospital.
didn’t have an earring or talk with a lisp and judging by his brown shoes and pale blue polyester slacks, he certainly wasn’t gifted in color.
He gasped, inhaling sharply and his eyes widened.
glanced at him… bathed in the artificial yellow glow of the street lamp.
pg. 75
20:53:00 – 21:25:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs 
pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit my cigarette.
Smoking had become my favorite thing in the world to do.
It was like having instant comfort, no matter where or when
used to polish my jewelry for hours and comb my hair until my scalp was deeply scratched was now lighting cigarettes every other minute and then carefully stomping them out.
It turned out I had always been a smoker. I just hadn’t had any cigarettes.
smiled warmly, eyes moist.
TV-room sofa
just taken a big swallow of Vicks 44.
a stray Purina Dog Chow Agnes had dropped on the seat cushion.
reached into her canvas rainbow bag and pulled out a small white bible.
doing a bible-dip with me
All the Finches did bible-dips.
Although nobody did as many dips as Hope.
driving around the center of town looking for a parking space.
When a red Vega pulled out of a handicap spot in front of Thorne’s Market, Hope shrieked.
The car smelled sweet, like wet dogs and armpits, and I was sick of sitting in it.
climbed out of the car and Hope set her rainbow bag on the hood.
a canvas PBS bag and usually a plastic shopping bag.
World Father’s Day button, a bag of balloons, a blue plastic Goody hairbrush on the dashboard.
Then again, there was a box of Valium in the trunk.
pulled out an electric alarm clock
dug into my pocket, feeling my hip bones, feeling too skinny, and pulled out a dime.
bent over and placed the dime on the sidewalk in front of the car…. tithe.
turkeys grain-fed
on multigrain just to make sure.
bible-dipping… how addictive they could become… When I asked, “Will I like the new Supertramp album?” and landed on the word “starvation,” I knew that the album was a dud and I should save my money.
It was like being able to turn to the back of the book and look at the answers.
Or it was like asking a parent.
Fern Stewart… a minister’s wife… a white smile that was usually located just a few inches above a plate of Rocky Road brownies she had baked from scratch just for me.
house that sat at the top of a small grassy hill.
A clutch of tall white birch trees stood next to the house,
their branches just grazing the slate-shingled roof.
shopped for teak napkin rings… discussing contemporary poetry and visiting the local galleries.
wore her prematurely gray hair in a blunt-cut bob, held back away from her face with a black velvet hairband.
spoke with a British accent… although… raised in Vacaville, California.
took ski trips to Stowe.
shopped mail-order from J. Peterman and L. L. Bean.
wore nubuck leather kiltie flats from Talbots and a small gold cross around her neck.
instead of fuck… said fiddlesticks.
a basement apartment in that house
leaded glass windows
the copper plumbing
wide oak floors.
a room near the back bathroom that Hope had cleared out for me.
clefts in their chins.
pg. 81 [paused in between due to mom messaging using her phone, the one I was using to take these notes]
August 27, 2026
11:44:00 – 12:18:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs 
a pottery bowl of steaming broccoli with homemade cheese sauce on the table
mom’s Gruyere broccoli
playfully sock him on the shoulder of his Izod.
a cornstarch birthday cake
Fern never craved a cigarette-butt-and-canned-smoked-oyster sandwich.
lying on the floor in a fit of giggles with his pants pulled down
My mother eventually found us our own place to live. It was one half of a large ild house on Dickinson Street, just a few miles up the road from Fern.
liked the fact that it was across the street from where Emily Dickinson once lived.
PVT bus
that my *
“room” was really just a nook without a door
private prep school
a pack of hippies that traveled from barn to barn across America.
living arrangements needed to remain fluid.
Another problem was the esthetics. To me, the large one-level building looked like some sort of factory that might chuech out ground meat products and just the plastic eyes for stuffed animals.
sold reflective shirts and fantastic white dress pants with permanent creases.
normal American kids.
Hundreds of them, teeming through the halls like the roaches in the Finches’ kitchen.
nothing in common with these kids.
moms that nibbled matchstick-thin slices of carrot.
I had a mom that ate matchsticks
went to bed at ten o’clock and I was discovering thst life could go on well past three in the morning. [???]
a holding tanks for kids without bigger plans or ideas.
Finches… make your own rules… life was your own and no adult should be allowed to shape it for you.
go to school for a day…. Sometimes two days in a row…. other twenty-eight days I would do my own thing…
write in my journal [????? for a kid?]
careful not to be absent for thirty days in a row because this would cause the school board ro issue a “core evaluation” which could result, I feared in reform school.
trick was to show up for homeroom. And then leave. This created confusion within the school’s records.
Allowing me to slip through the cracks.
pg. 85 [busied myself with downloading the song I Lied (Intro) by Joyner Lucas via Youtube video, which in this case was the audio video, to MP3 because no signal or wi-fi (there is, but no access to Youtube or Youtube music), so time is off by two or so minutes, though ended up not using mysic and headphones because it was going to be lowbatt but also ended up needing a break, wrote this in 4 minutes]
12:25:00 – 12:36:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs 
mother was sprawled back on the sofa with her eyes squeezed tightly shut.
moving from side to side like a dog gnawing on a rawhide bone.
blue nightgown over the arm of the sofa… blouse and skirt in a heap on the floor.
street was quiet: two-story homes, trimmed hedges, driveways, a cat.
yellow house with its green shutters and the brown Dodge Aspen in the driveway
standing there, dressed but untucked, her hair dented
crying her cheeks all shiny, and she was pulling me toward her, trying to hug me, kissing my cheek, my forehead
tried to pull away…. didn’t want her mouth  on me.
nex thing I knew… running down the steps, then cutting across the lawn toward her car, her head bowed down in shame like she was ducking rain, her handbag clutched against her breasts.
thought of her dry-cleaned don, Daniel
passing me a basket of rolls at dinner.
mom’s rolls are magic
Her breasts were large and sacklike, resting in her lap.
pg. 87
14:45:00 – 15:15:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs 
exhaled loudly, then brought her citarette to her lips and sucked on it like a baby.
yanked her nightgown off the arm of the couch and threw it at her, just missing her cigarette.
slipped the nightgown over her head, then stood to pull it down over her body.
held her cigarette between her first two fingers and poised her thumb on her temple.
always spoke like she was being interviewed by Ladies’ Home Journal. Like she was a celebrity.
So Fern and my mother had been lovers for months.
My mother was a lesbian.
spoon Sanka into a coffee mug and then add hot tap water.
blowing into her cup before taking a loud sip.
as if the lighting changed and a camera slid down a set of rails, zooming into her face.
musical score practically filled the room.
nightgown filtered the sunlight and her body glowed in silhoutte through the fabric.
reached into her pocket and brought a cigarette to her lips, lighting it dramatically and exhaling a plume of smoke into the air
exhaled, closing her eyes and letting her chin sag down to her chest.
pocketbook
a brilliant Saturday afternoon, with thin, wispy clouds high in the sky; the perfect day for a parade.
blew up balloons and tied them to colorful ribbons
doctor walked around the house in his underpants and wingtip shoes singing off-key
tied a red ribbon around it and then looped this through the band that ran around the doctor’s gray felt hat.
inflated about sixty balloons, tying them to his hat, his umbrella, looping them through the buttonholes of his long black wool coat that he intended to wear despite the heat.
tied balloons ro Agnes, one over each breast.
eyebrows twitching
headed out his house wearing his balloon-covered coat, holding his bañloon-covered rainbow umbrella high above his head.
Pink balloons on pink ribbon trailed from his hat.
followed a few paces behind him carrying  a sign that read, UNITE THE FATHERS OF THE WORLD. TODAY IS WORLD FATHER’S DAY!!!!!
covered with balloons; they were even tied through my belt loops.
two balloons, one over each breast. [repeat ]
pg. 93
15:19:00 – 15:35:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs 
tricked into being in the parade, and resfused to wear the breastloons, but she did carry one.
six or seven balloons which were tied to his ankles and dragged on the ground.
wearing sunglasses and a large hat
tail end of the parade
held one white balloon in her right hand
ashamed… just or… needed to have her needs adjusted.
handing their parents a mimeographed newsletter that read, “How Emotionally Immature Fathers Are Failing Their Children and Society in General, by B.S. Finch, M.D.”
when we walked up, they would throw the fliers into the trash.
pass a gaggle of five or six Smith st freshmen who would back against a building, whispering and giggling as we walked by.
walk on, whistling.
lagged behing [[sic]], pausing to browse in bookstore windows,
stopping once to run into a shoe store and try on a pair of sandals.
pg. 96
15:45:00 – 16:07:00 Bel Canto by Ann Patchett 
the President abhorred taping.
host country was mad for soap operas
devotion to his television set was so potentially embrassing his cabinet would have gladly traded it in for an indirect mistress.
sitting in the dark on the edge of the bed in the master suite of the presidential palace, his suit jacket folded over the arm of a chair, his hands folded and pressed between his knees.
A picture of a beautiful girl tied to a chair reflected in his glasses.
twisted her wrists back and forth, over and over again, until she found some slack in the rope and slid one hand free.
glanced quickly around the storeroom and then leaned forward to untie the coarse rope that bound her ankles.
just begun to register that a bulb was burned out on a side table lamp when men burst into the party from every window and wall.
Everywhere the Vice President turned rhe edges of the room seemed to push forward, yelling.
Heavy boots and gun butts pounded through vents, stormed in through doors.
People were thrown together and then just as quickly broke apart in a state of animal panic.
house seemed to rise up like a boat caught inside the wide arm of a wave and flip onto its side.
Silverware flew into the air, the tines of forks twisting against knife blades, vases smashed into walls.
People slipped, fell, ran, but only for an instant, only until their eyes readjusted to the light and they saw the utter uselessness of their fight.
[Generals:]
Benjamin: raging shingles.
Alfredo: mustache, first and second fingers missing on left hand.
Hector: gold wires glasses that had lost one arm.
With… fifteen soldiers who ranged in age from twenty and fourteen.
an [“an” rather than plural] additional eighteen people at the party.
moved and spread
doubled and tripled as they pulsed around the room,
appeared from behind curtains,
came down from upstairs,
disappeared into the kitchen.
pg. 12
16:19:00 – 16:34:00 Bel Canto by Ann Patchett 
trying to count bees in a swarm around your head.
wore faded clothing in dark colors, many in the dull green of shallow, sludgy ponds, a handful in denim or black.
Over their clothing they wore a second layer of weapon, sashes of bullets, flashes knives in back pockets, all manner of guns, smaller guns holstered to thighs or sticking up hopefully from belts, larger guns cradled like infacts, brandished like sticks.
wore caps with the bills pulled down, but no one was interested in their eyes, only their guns, only their shark-toothed knives.
A man with three guns was recorded subconsciously as three men.
thin, either from the wanting of food or just the business of growing,
their shoulders and knees poked at their clothing.
dirty, noticeably so.
smudged and streaked, arms and faces and hands mottled in dirt
as if they had arrived at the party by digging up through the gardens and dislodging a panel in the floor.
pg. 13
16:40:00 – 16:52:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs 
Anger was like the ground hamburger of our [the Finch children] existence.
Anger Turned Inward
Repressed Anger
Misguided Anger
Acts Made in Anger
Things Said in Anger
die if they didn’t Face Their Anger.
screamed at each other constantly.
like a competition and the prize was mental health.
“Hope has been expressing a lot of healthy anger lately.
I truly believed she’s moved up to the next level in the stages of her emotional development.
She’s leaving the anal and moving into the phallic.”
So then everyone hated Hope because she walked around being so smug and emotionally mature.
peacockian displays of anger and his high decibel baritone voice prevented most people from directly confronting him, there were times when the doctor himself was the target of someone’s [usually Agnes] “healthy expression.”
a scatterbrained old Cadillac that had been driven into the ground but somehow kept on starting, withiut fuss.
Normally, Agnes was just there in the background, wordlessly ageeing, endlessly sweeping, making herself invisible and generally stsying on the sidelines.
So it was especially exciting when Agnes flew into a rage. And all her rages were directed at the doctor.
pg. 99
August 28, 2026
12:44:14 – 13:10:51 The Cruise of the Nona by Hilaire Belloc 
very slight breeze… died away long before we reached the end of the breakwater,
and it was necessary to pull her out with the dinghy in order to
fetch round the end of the stonework 
and get to sea
at that time… a little current [of the tide] running towards the Stack
which would slightly help us on our way once we were outside
drifted a full hour and more
aided… by faint breaths of air which rose and died again like memories.
with the turn of the night
under the glare of the lighthouse
put the nose of the little ship round for the point of Carnarvonshire
and the strait of between the mainland and Bardsey Island which is called Bardsey Sound,
a course of about twenty-three miles… [can’t cover] it in all that night [and in the coming day as well, because]… hot, steady summer weather [where] one may play… drifting match for days on end.
[When] still dark the distant mountains… something a little blacker than the sky.
looked astonishingly low
as mountains always do on a moonless night [when no way to see details, no comparison, and way to tell how far they are].
[now that it's ] nearer two than one o'clock—a little wind [rose], settling down… somewhat east of north… blowing over the Anglesey flats.
gave us no more than a couple of knots an hour
but it was heartening [getting stronger? but actually the straightforward “encouraging”] after the long calm…
as we [set sail] she pulled to it steadily enough [responded to the wind].
at the helm… companion… still awake, sitting in the cockpit and talking to me
and the hand [helper] [who was to be with them till they next landed] smoked beside us on deck.
wind freshened somewhat… making perhaps four or five knots 
when the dawn began to show [emerge] beyond Snowdon
great hills [simultaneously] looked higher [with] glimmer of grey light
whole coast [became] apparent
Yreifles with their triple peaks (clearer than I expected; indeed, too clear for fine weather) lay right ahead [with] Bardsey Island beyond them and the narrow sound in between.
section 1
17:55:00 – 18:25:00 Bel Canto by Ann Patchett 
a tiny, bell-shaped flower that grew near the high stucco wall
sing while they waited crouched inside the air-conditioning vents.
each had a task, extremely specific instructions.
lights were to be cut off after the sixth song
no one ever having explained in their lives the concept of an encore.
held their breath so as to better hear her.
young terrorists waiting in the air-conditioning vents were simple people and they believed simple things.
When a girl in their village had a pretty voice, one of the old women would say she had swallowed a bird,
and this was what they tried to say to themselves as they looked at the pile of hairpins resting on the pistachio chiffon of her gown:
she has swallowed a bird.
In the steady river of approaching boys, one crouched down beside her and picked up her hand.
held it lightly, hardly more than rested her palm against his own.
so that she could have taken it back from him at any minute, but she did not.
fine-boned beneath the bill of his cap, his eyelids burdened by the weight of a thousand silky black lashes.
Across his narrow chest was a bandolier of bullets and his body curved beneath their weight.
rough wooden handle of a primitive kitchen knife stuck up from the top of one boot and a pistol was half falling from his pocket.
frigid nights of late October [of Chicago].
worn old boots from a gardening shed,
fashioned a bandolier from strips of corrugated cardboard,
and filled each loop with a tube of his mother’s lipstick.
would not look at her, only her hand.
studied it as if… separate from her.
would have pulled it away from him, but… evening’s events, she kept her hand still and allowed it to be studied.
raised her head and glowered at [him]
boy, who then settled Roxane Coss’s hand back against her dress and walked away.
Groups of boys with guns drawn were dispatched to [1] different corners of the house, [2] down to the basement, [3] up to the attic, [5] [[should be 4]] out around the edges of the high stucco wall
to see if [their Japanese president target] had hidden himself in the confusion.
Through the open windows came the raucous sawing of insect life.
sat down on his heels
bleeding heartily into the dinner napkin which his wife, who lay beside him, pressed against his head.
more sinister edge of purple was now ringing his eye…. nowhere near as painful as the inflammation of his own face.
took the bloody cloth from his wife and motioned her to scoot away.
now saddled with two hundred and twenty-two hostages lying before him on the floor
out of the city by now, speeding their way over the dangerous roads that led back to the jungle.
Through the windows, bright red strobe lights flashed across the walls accompanied by a high-pitched wailing. The sound wss nagging and accusatory… nothing like song.
pg. 29
18:33:00 – 18:53:00 Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs 
“Bring me the meat lump and five iced teas.”
designing electric guitars for the rock band KISS
a portable phone that was the size of an assault rifle.
laughed and stripped off his jeans so he could put on his stage clothes.
brand new Oldsmobile Toronado.
slide onto the brown velvet corduroy seat
has quadraphonic sound.
launch into a lengthy and highly technical explanation of the science behind quadraphonic sound and what, exactly, it meant from an audio engineering point of view.
he would shrug and say, “Well, maybe, you’re retarded.”
sit politely in the doctor’s inner office, his gigantic arms slung over the back of the sofa, and he would grunt… I’m not the one who’s eating sand…. “Huh. I feel okay.”
assumed, then, that my brother was so deeply mentally ill as to be untreatable [still love this grammatical construction]. Possibly, he had a prfound character flaw.
knew the reality was far worse…. born without taste or the desire to be professionally lit.
can’t go out in public like that,” I would say when I saw him in his beige wool slack riding up nearly to his nipples, his kelly-green polo shirt three sizes too small.
hopefully without style or any sense of what was going on in the world, culturally.
Ask him who Debra Winger was and he’d say, ” Is she another one of those frekinsh Finches?” But ask him to explain how a particular accelerator worked and he could talk uninterrupted for hours.
He could even draw you a diagram with his mechanical pencil.
It pained me.
pg. 107
18:57:00 – 19:04:00 Bel Canto by Ann Patchett 
All night long the outside world bellowed.
Cars skidded and sped.
Sirens arrived, departed, flicked off and on and off again.
Wooden barricades were dragged into place
people were herded behind
could hear now that they were lying down.
shuffling of feet
sound of a baton being smacked into an open palm.
ceiling has been memorized (light blue with crown molding that was elaborate to the point of being tasteless, scrolling and spiraling and every inch of it leafed in gold, the three chipped holes left by bullets)
and so guests closed their eyes to settle into the serious business of listening.
Voices, exaggerated and mangled throught the bullhorn’s amplification, shouted instructions towards the street, made demands towards the house.
settle for nothing short of… surrender.
voice raged, loud and distorted as if it had bubbled up from the ocean floor.
pg. 30
19:14:00 – 19:23:00 Travels in Tartary by M. HUL. 
Turks… repaired to Mecca in great [[single asterisk here before “great”, intended to complete “great caravans”]] caravans.
pilgrimages have diminshed in Europe, in proportion, as faith has become rationalist, and as people have taken to discuss the truths of religion.
Wherever faith remains earnest, simple, unquestioning, in the breasts of men, these pilgrimages are in vigour.
Catholic Church, which is the depository of all truth, has introduced processions into the liturgy, at a memorial of pilgrimages, and to remind men that
this earth is a desert,
wherein we commence, with our birth, the awful journey of eternity.
encamped in their company upon the banks of the pleasant stream, and amid the fat pastures which it fed.
ch. 2
August 29, 2026
12:02:00 – 13:07:00 The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger 
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
stuffed elephants in the great hall, the dinosaur skeletons, the caveman dioramas.
immense, surpassingly blue butterfly, Papilio ulysses, mounted in a frame filled with cotton.
hold it… so close I couldn’t see anything but that blue.
fill me with a feeling, a feeling I later tried to duplicate with alcohol and finally found again with Clare, *a feeling of unity, oblivion, mindlessness in the best sense of the word.
described the cases and cases of butterflies, hummingbirds, beetles.
so excited that I woke up before dawn.
put on my gym shoes and took my Papilio ulysses and went into the backyard and down the steps to the river in my pajamas.
sat on the landing and watched the
[[Leaf 2, Page 2]]
light come up.
family of ducks came swimming buy, and a raccoon appeared on the landing across the river and looked at me curiously before washing its breakfast and eating it.
may have fallen asleep.
heard Mom calling and I ran back up the stairs,
which were slippery with dew, careful not to drop the butterfly.
singing and I was chiming in with horrible yowling noises and snapping my fingers and we were giggling and she was tickling me.
came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and joined in and for a few glorious minutes they were singing together and Dad picked me up and they were dancing around the bedroom [[two asterisks here supposed to complete this whole following clause but left unclosed]]with me pressed between them.
wore a red sleeveless dress and sandals
painted her toenails and fingernails so they matched her dress.
resplendent in dark blue pants and a white short-sleeved shirt, providing… quiet… for Mom’s flamboyance.
piled into the car.
had the whole backseat to myself, so I lay down and watched the tall buildings along Lake Shore Drive flicking past the window.
doned stone facade
parked and walked along the lake, past boats and statues and other excited children.
passed between the heavy columns and into the museum.
For my five-year-old self, who could derive rapture from a single buttefly.
to walk through the Field Museum was to walk through Eden and see all that passed there.
dark, cold, and old… sense of suspension, of time nad dearth brought to a halt inside
[[Leaf 2, Page 3]]
its walls.
saw crystals and cougars, muskrats and mummies, fossils and more fossils.
ate our picnic lunch on on the lawn of the museum, and then plunged in again for birds and alligators and Neanderthals.
Toward the end I was so tired I could hardly stand, but I couldn’t bear to leave.
guards came and gently herded us to  all to the doors.
struggled not to cry, but began to anyway, out of exhaustion and desire.
Dad picked me up, nad we walked back to the car.
fell asleep in the backseat, and when I awoke we were home, and it was time for dinner.
gruff, compact man
my crazy Korean card-carryingplaying babysitter.
[with whom] I spent most of my waking hours
could produce anything from a soufflé to bi bim bop with panache.
made pizza and chocolate cake.
sat on the back porch in my pajamas… drinking lemonade and watching the blueness of the evening sky, listening to the cicadas and the TV noises from other apartments.
seeing that I still couldn’t sleep, he and Mom turned out the lights, propped open my bedroom door, and went into the living room.
sat at the piano, and Dad got out his violin, and they played and sang for a long time.
Lullabies, lieder, nocturnes; sleepy music to soothe the savage boy in the bedroom.
came in to see if I was asleep.
must have looked small and wear [[thought it was “weary”]]
[[Leaf 3, Page 4]]
wary in my little bed, a nocturnal animal in pajamas.
pg. 26
13:18:00 – 14:08:00 A Million Little Pieces  by James Frey 
drone of an airplane engine
clothes are covered with a colorful mixture of spit, snot, urine, vomit, and blood.
No tickets, no bags, no clothes, no wallet.\
sit down on the steel bridge of the Jetway that connects the Plane to the Gate.
head… mouth… eyes… hands hurt. Things without names hurt.
A bottle of water and a couple bottles of wine and a pack of cigarettes.
sit up ahnd I light a smoke and I take a slug of water.
look at my Mom.
She can’t look back.
I breathe.
I just.
I look away.
I just, you know.
I look away, I can’t look at them.
I just wanted to say thanks. For picking me up.
don’t like it when they touch me so I pull away.
I drink and  Ismoke and I think about her and at a certain point blackness comes and my memory fails me.
My face has gotten worse and it is hideously swollen. I have trouble speaking, eating, drinking, smoking.
I have yet to look in a mirror.
I stare at the Buildings.
Low and long and connected.
Functional.
[[Leaf 3, Page 5]]
Simple.
Menacing.
I want to run or die or get fucked up.
to be blind and dumb and deaf have no heart.
crawl in a hole and never come out.
wipe my existence straight off the map Straight off the fucking map. I take a deep breath.
a small Waiting Room.
woman sits behind a desk reading a fashion magazine. She looks up.
leaves and he shuts the door and I’m alone.
My feet bounce, I touch my face, I run my tongue along my gums. I’m cold and getting colder. I hear someone scream.
Pills, acid, mushrooms, meth, PCF, and glue.
[She, the Nurse] marks it down.
I drank a bottle of vodka.
How does that compare to your normal daily dosage?
It doesn’t.
detoxification drugs.
see a shadow and I think it moves but I’m not sure.
I see another one. I hate it.
If you need me, just call.
I hate it.
take off my shoes and I lie under the blankets and I close my eyes and fall asleep.
wake up… start to shiver… curl up… clench my fists.
Sweat runs down my chest, my arms, the backs of my legs.
It stings my face.
see a bug in the corner, but I know it’s not there.
[[Leaf 4, Page 6]]
- 
walls close in and expand they close in and expand and I can hear them. I cover my ears nbut it’s not enough.
stand… look around me… don’t know anything. Where I am, why, what happened, how to escae. My names, my life.
curl up on the floor and I am crushed by images and sounds.
Things I have never seen or heard or ever knew existed.
come from the ceiling, the door, the window, the desk, the chair, the bed, the closet.
They’re coming from the fucking closet.
Dark shadows and bright lights and flashes of blue and yellow and red as deep as the red of my blood.
move toward me and they scream at me and I don’t know what they are but [[two asterisks here, forgot to close this as well]] I know they’re helping the bugs.
They’re screaming at me.
pg. 11
14:13:00 – 14:34:00 The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger 
left the door open and flipped off the hall light
hear little noises, water running, toilet flushing
fumble with my keys in the bright foyer I fall to my knees, dizzy and nauseatdd, and then I am in the dark, vomiting on a tile floor.
raise my head and see a red illuminated EXIT sign and as my eyes adjust I see tigers, cavemen with long spears, cavewomen wearing strategically modest skins, wolfish dogs.
for a long liquor-addled moment, I think, Holy shit, I’ve gone all the way back to the Stone Age until I realize that EXIT signs tend to congregate in the twentieth century [ok, this is funny]
get up, shaking, and venture toward rhe doorway, tile icy under my bare feet, gooseflesh and all my hairs standing up.
clammy with air conditioning.
next room…. full of glass cases; the white streetlight glow through the high windows shows me thousands of beetles.
sprint through beetlemania into the long hallway that bisects the second floor, down the west staircase to the first floor, hrateful to be in the pre-motion-detector era.
great elephants loom menacingly over me in the moonlight and I wave to them on my way to the little gift shop to the right of the main entrance.
circle the wares and find a few promising items: an ornamental letter, a metal bookmark with the Field’s insignia, and two T-shirts that feature dinosaurs.
locks on the cases are a joke; I pop them with a bobby pin I find next to the cash register, and help myself.
dense with papers, and coffee cups and cigarettes overflow from aahtrays
a partially articulated snake skeleton on his desk.
keeps an unopened package of Oreo cookies in his desk… appropriate them and leave
dark spiky hair, moon pale with brown almost Slavic eyes, wiry, coltish [?].
voice is small and high, and echoes a little off the cold stone.
pg. 29
14:46:00 – 14:52:00 The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger 
flicked the lights there are pumpkin-sized rocks all over the floor, whole and halved, craggy on the outside and streaked with veins of metal inside.
Birds in simulated flight, birds perched eternally on branches, bird heads, bird skins.
open one of the hundreds of drawers
contains a dozen glass tubes, each holding a tiny gold and black bird with its name wrapped around a foot.
remove the cotton wadding from the mouth of a tube and shake a goldfinch onto my palm.
remains tube-shaped [???]
pg. 31
20:54:00 – 21:10:00 The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger 
flip on the lights and the Reading Room springs into being; heavy wooden rables and chairs, maroon carpet, forbidding enormous Reference Desk.
closed-stacks library, used by scientists and scholars.
bookcases lining the room, but they hold mostly leather-bound Victorian science periodicals.
book I’m after is in a huge glass and oak case by itself in the center of the room.
spring the lock with my bobby pin and open the glass door.
a bona fide librarian, I do Show and Tells at the Newberry all the time.
walk behind the Reference Desk and find a piece of felt and some support pads, and lay them out on the nearest table.
Then I close and carefully lift the book out of its case and onto the felt. I pull out a chair.
He climbs up, and I open the book.
Audubon’s Birds of America, the deluxe, wonderful double-elephant folio that’s almost as tall as my young self.
spent many rainy afternoons admiring it
open it to the first plate, and Henry smiles, and looks at me.
crumbs all over the bluebirds
page slowly through the birds, so much more alive than the real thing in glass tubes down the hall.
tiny helicopters,
their wings go so fast you just see a blur
Turning each page is like making a bed, an enormous expanse of paper slowly rises up and over.
emits small noises of pleasure for each sandhill crane, American coot, great auk, pileated woodpecker.
last plate, Snow Bunting, he leans down and touches the page, delicately stroking the engraving.
wanting to crawl into it and sleep.
pg. 33 [time inaccurate by some 3 to 5 minutes due to bazaar group prayer]
August 30, 2026
10:16:00 – 10:43:00 Silent to the Bone by E. L. Konigsburg 
hair was greasy and uncombed
so pale that the orange jumpsuit he wore cast an apricot glow up from his chin just as his red hair seemed to cast the same eerie glow across his forehead.
shuffled as he walked toward me.
shoes had no laces…. taken them from him.
eyeglasses were so badly smudged that his blue eyes appeared almost gray.
loved words.
had about five words for things that most people had only one word for, and could use four of five in a single sentence.
Talk was like the vitamins of our friendship: Large daily doses kept it healthy.
both live on Tower Hill Road on the edge of the campus, and we both spent our nursery school and kindergarten days at the university lab school.
Friendship depends on interlocking time, place, and state of mind.
The differences in our families are not enough to explain why we should not be friends any more than the similarities between us are enough to explain why we should be. [Mouthful!]
just plain different.
stands out in any crowd.
tall
bright red hair
drops his books—usually all of them —at least five times a day.
If he’s talking to you, and he’s in the middle of a sentence, and he drops his books, he picks them up and finished his sentence without stopping.
cannot hit a ball with a bat or get one into a basket, and he is never on the A-list when kids are picking players for a makeup game of soccer or softball. When he isn’t picked, he seems just as happy to watch as to play [interesting grammatical construction].
very long legs… can run…. a very good runner…. looks like a camel—all knobby-kneed and loose-jointed with his neck stretched so far out that his nose is over the goal line five minutes before his shoulders.
comment on his gait rather than his speed—even though he often wins, places, or shows.
pg. 16
10:48:00 – 11:33:00 The Monkey’s Raincoat by Robert Crais 
stood up out of the director’s chair across from my desk.
had it and its mate fitted in a nice pastel burgundy a year ago.
leather was broken in and soft and did not crack when she stood.
rearranged two of the Jiminy Cricket figurines on my desk
adjusted her glasses, clutched her hands, and faded back into the director’s chairs.
looked small, even though she wasn’t.
looked like a dancer who’d spent a lot of time at it.
Lean and strong.
Good bones.
wore tight beige cotton pants and a loose cotton shirt striped with shades of blue and pink and red.
No panty line.
déclassé in my white Levi’s and Hawaiian shirt.
Maybe the shoulder holster made up for it.
smiled at me, trying to feign comfort in an uncomfortable situation.
sighed, giving it the weight of the world.
said it like she was talking to someone with brain damage. Great legs, though.
gave me a look, then turned away and stared at the Pinocchio clock.
on the wall beside the door that leads to the partner’s office, just above the little sign that says The Elvis Cole Detective Agency.
As the second hand sweeps around, Pinocchio’s eyes move from side to side.
been glancing at it since they walked in…. peculiar.
fidgeted.
standing by the sliding glass doors that lead out to the little balcony.
On a clear day I could go out there and see all the way down Santa Monica Boulevard to the water.
view had been the selling point.
Janet Simon fit nicely with the view.
eyes went from Janet Simon to me, sort of like the Pinocchio clock.
charge a flat fee exclusive and I get it in advance.
turned away from the balcony to sit in the other director’s chair.
treats her like a sop.
made a little gurgling noise.
eyes widened but didn’t seem to be looking at anything.
“Ms. Simon,” I said evenly, “as much as I’d like to lick chocolate syrup off your body, I want you to shut up.”
“Oh my.”
Janet Simon stood up and then Ellen Lang stood up.
Janet Simon put a hand on Ellen Lang’s shoulder and shoved her back down.
“Who do you think you’re talking to?”
chewed at the inside of her cheek, trying to decide about me, then nodded and took her seat.
Eric again. The Mystery Man. “Fine by me.”
Janet Simon looked at the door beneath the Pinocchio clock.
If she looked close enough she’d see the little ridge in the jamb from the time someone had forced the lock. Three coats of paint, and you could still see the crack. She didn’t notice.
stood up, steamed over to the door, and went through.
no desk, no furniture, nothing. What kind of office is that?”
” Italian moderne?”
cocked her head a little to the side.
quite a charming smile. Like Peter Pan. Innocent, but with a touch of the rake. [???]
If she wanted to smile, she fought it.
took out a pack of Salem Lights, lit up in the office but stood in the balcony door, blowing smoke out over West Hollywood.
liked the way her neck looked when she lifted her chin to send out a plume of smoke.
Some woman. I bet her mouth tasted like an ashtray.
took two photographs out of her purse and put them carefully on the desk.
“On Friday Mort always picks up Perry from school.
Perry goes to Oakhurst and the girls go to Westridge.
bald top with a round face, thin lifeless hair, and skinny arms.
wearing a tee shirt that said U .S .S . Bluegill, Maui, Hawaii.
sort of eyes that had just been looking somewhere else.
back of the picture someone had writren Morton Lang, age 39,  5’ 10”, 145 lbs, on right forearm.
writing was even and firm, all of the letters identical in size.
other picture was a wallet-sized school photo of a little biy who looked a smaller less-worn version of Mort.
Petry Lang, age 9,4’ 8”, 64 pounds, brown hair and brown eyes, no visible scars or tattoos or moles.
put the pictures on the desk, then opened my right top desk drawer and took out a Bic pen and a blank yellow pad.
had to move my gun to get the pad.
gun was a Dan Wesson .38 Special with the 4-inch barrel, a gift from George Feider the day I got my license.
a good gun.
closed the drawer, put the pad beside the pictures and the Bic on the pad.
pg. 5
11:55:00 – 12:15:00 I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou 
The truth of the statement a wadded-up handkerchief, sopping wet in my fists, and the sooner they accepted it the quicker I could let my hands open and the air would cool my palms.
children’s section of the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church was wiggling and giggling over my well-known forgetfulness.
dress I wore was lavender taffeta
each time I breathed it rustled,
now that I was sucking in air to breathe out shame it sounded like crepe paper on the back of hearses.
As I’d watched Momma put ruffles on the hem and cute little tucks around the waist,
I knew that once I put it on I’d look like a movie star.
(It was silk and that made up for the awful color.)
look like one of the sweet little white girls who were everybody’s dream of what was right with the world.
Hanging softly over the black Singer sewing machine, it looked magic, and when people saw me wearing it they were going to run up to me and say… Marguerite [/sometimes it was ‘dear Marguuerite’]/, forgive us, please, we didn’t know who you were,” and I would answer generously, “No, you couldn’t have known. Of course I forgive you.”
Just thinking about it made me go sround with angel’s dust sprinkled over my face for days.
But Easter’s early morning sun had shown the dress to be a plain ugly cut-down from a white woman’s once-was-purple throwaway.
old-lady-long too, but it didn’t hide my skinny legs, which had been greased with Blue Seal Vaseline and powdered with the Arlansas red clay.
age-faded color made my skin look dirty like mud, and everyone in church was looking at my skinny legs.
Wouldn’t they be surprised when one day I woke out of my black ugly dream
my real hair, which was long and blond, would take the place of the kinky mass that Momma wouldn’t let me straighten?
pg. 2
12:19:00 – 12:38:00 The Bunker by James P. O’Donnell 
Each generation owes an after-action report to the generation that follows.
best I have read was written by the seventeenth-century Swedish diplomat Baron von Oxenstierna, in the middle of the Thirty Years’ War.
Do you not realize, my son, with how little wisdom this world is run?
1945 was a breathless year… most remarkable on the calendar of our turbulent century.
hearing of the sudden death of President Roosevelt on the same day, April 12, 1945, as we who were soldiers had Elbe River and were preparing to cross.
Events, tremendous events, were in the saddle; history was happening faster than it could be recorded or comprehended.
Annus mirabilis, victory in Europe in May; annus terribilis, victory in Asia in August, under a mushroom cloud. Historians are still sorting out that year 1945, when “Whirl was king.”
Paltry as a human being, yet a mighty phenomenon.
World War II was Hitler’s war, and let there be no revisionist cavil about that.
casuistry
similar nonsense-on-stilts.
“No one who is allowed to walk around without a keeper can possibly believe that!”
Paper, we are told, burns at 451° Fahrenheit.
In the last pandemoniac weeks of the Third Reich, document incineration became a Wagnerian cult ceremony.
More than three quarters of the events narrated in this book have never been “documented.”
We will hear one of Hitler’s orderlies, in a casual conversation, telling how seven footlockers of documents were destroyed in a madcap effort to have them flown out of the bunker on April 22, 1945.
the bunker his last abode and legal address; his suicide took place there on a horsehair blue-and-white velvet sofa.
Berlin may have become his potter’s field.
body was cremated, the ashes scatterwd either in the bleached yellow sand of a remote suburb called Buch, or possibly just east of the city, in Erkner or in Finow.
pg. 2
12:47:00 – 13:12:00 A Million Little Pieces by James Frey 
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
Tracks crisscross his forearms.
Scars run the lengths of his wrists.
eyes… blank.
As I slide, the surface of the chair holds my robe and scratches the back of my legs and the robe bunches around my waist.
lift my hand to adjust the robe and my hand falls back.
mind tells my hand to move and… to adjust the robe but… isn’t working.
robe stays
stop spitting ihs nails at me… see him coming through the slitted lids of my eyes.
[[Leaf 1, Page 2]]
reaches out and he grips my wrists and he drags me along the floor.
drags me away from the chair and into the corner of the Room and he leaves me lying face down on the floor.
leans over and he puts his mouth next to my ear.
I could have beat your fucking ass. Remember that.
bristles of the carpet dig into my face and I can hear that them.
laugh track on the show booms and I can feel it.
an Orderly setting a tray of food on the desk
look at the food and then I feel my face.
Everything is still swollen. I touch my lips and they crack.
open my mouth and they bleed.
close my mouth and they drip.
try to use the fork but it does too much damage.
break up the toast and push the pieces down my throat with my fingers.
drink the water but not the juice.
When Im done I go to the Bathroom and I vomit.
try to stop it, but I can’t.
About half of the food comes up, as does some blood and some bile.
happy that I have kept half of the food…. more than I normally keep.
pg. 16
13:26:00 – 13:45:00 The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger 
T-shirt is warm empty cloth in my hands
hunker down in the tall grass
wearing her school uniform, a hunter green jumper with a white blouse and knee socks with penny loafers
carrying a Marshall Field’s shopping bag and a beach towel.
spread out the towel on the ground and dumps out the contents of the bag: every imaginable kind of writing implement
Old ballpoint pens, little stubby pencils from the library, crayons, smelly Magic Markers, a fountain pen.
also has a bunch of her dad’s office stationery.
arranged the implements and gives the dtack of paper a smart shake,
and then proceeds to try each pen and pencil in turn, making careful lines and swirls,
humming to herself
theme song of The Dick Can Dyke Show.
“Greetings, Earthling,” I intone, kindly.
casting around for something to throw, and decides on her shoes
which have heavy, sharp heels.
wipes them off and does throw them.
lucks out and one of them catches me in the mouth.
picks them [her shoes] up and stands holding them like pistols.
chews on this for a minute.
Silence. Claire shifts her weight from foot to foot and waves away a mosquito.
digs into her jumper pocket and produces a Hersheys bar with one bite out of it…. throws it at me.
gets up carefully and collects a few pieces of stationery while fixing me with her baleful stare.
lean forward slowly and extend my hand as though she is a Rottweiler [???], and she quickly shoves the papers at me and retreats.
look at them intently, as though she has just handed me a bunch of Bruce Rogers’ original drawings for Centaur or the Book of Kells or something.
printed, over and over, large and larger, “Claire Anne Abshire.”
All the ascenders and descenders have swirling curlicues and all the counters have smiley faces in them.
elsewhen
pg. 42
13:49:00 – 13:58:00 A Million Little Pieces by James Frey 
run my tongue along the stitches.
along the remnants of my teeth.
let my tongue sit where it belongs.
spreads his feet and he firms himself and he puts both of his hands on my nose.
grab the sides of my bed… and wait.
jerks his hands forward and up and there’s an audible crack.
Cold white light shoots through my eyes and through my spine and into my feet and back again.
eyes… closed but… crying.
Blood is streaming from my nostrils.
moves his hands to the side and I can feel the cartilage move with them [nose, but why “side”, im confused].
moves them again.
can feel it.
presses up and… fit.
feel it.
reaches for some tape… puts [it] across the bridge of my nose… holds the cartilage in place… feels solid.
face is throbbing… squeezing the sides of my bed and it hurts my hands… want to let go but… can’t.
Librium and Diazepam
pg. 18
14:08:00 – 14:30:00 Silent to the Bone by E. L. Konigsburg 
pound of peanut butter stuck in his braces.
gets his pant leg caught in his bicycle chain, I stop and wait for him to get untangled.
could speak to me with his eyes.
couldn’t write any more than he could speak.
But the words were in him.
jog him into speaking again.
stacked the cards and fastened them together with a rubber band and put them in my backpack.
the paralyzed Frenchman who could write a book with the blink of his left eye?
rewired the house
lay in a supply of after-school snacks
key to the back door… that opened the add-on living room.
chief (and usually only) baby-sitter.
baby-sat [somehow never used this word]
after a month in the Florida sun—even with double-digit sunblock—he had freckled [intransitive!!? Never seen this].
a havelock
a cap that has a flap of cloth attached to cover the neck.
sidewalks were still soaking up summer heat, and the house… felt stuffy—unused
had always met the plane, waiting at the gate, craning his neck to look down the jetway to get a first glimpse of him.
sniffed the tears back [ok this is actually… Where the hell was this this whole time?!]
fingernail parlors
pg. 58
14:32:00 – 14:39:00 The Monkey’s Raincoat by Robert Crais 
trailed off and turned red, her lips a tight purple knot.
a tight [To describe a grin?], sexy grin on her face. *Or maybe it was a sneer.
took a final pull on her cigarette, rossed it over the railing and came back inside.
voice was so soft I could barely hear her.
took two rolodex cards from her purse and flipped them down on the desk next to the photographs.
top one had KIMBERLY MARSH typed on it along with the address and a phone number.
Mort was trying to get a film project off the ground
leaned forward out of the director’s chair.
wrote old friends on the pad, drew a box around it, then tore off the sheet and threw it away.
Some notes.
went out on the balcony [this double preposition I’m not used to seeing so frequently, but apparently characteristic here] and watched the street
pg.
14:49:00 – 15:12:00 The Bunker by James P. O’Donnell 
[[Leaf 1, Page 1]]
City of Berlin is built on alluvial sand…. located on a flat plain, or geologic end-moraine, formed by the departing glaciers of the last ice age;
[[Leaf 1, Page 2]]
these left behind the confluence of two rivers, the spree, which flows into the Havel, in an ancient river valley.
Many men of power have built monuments to themselves on this sand.
tottering capital
an open and beckoning autobahn, a fe
a few Brandenburg lakes.
scraggy Scotch pine sand birch forests
beaten sadsack German soldiers learning to surrender.
s smooth-sanded death strip
once a simple borough line
adopted by the four victorious Allied commanders as a convenient, temporary demarcation line for the quartering of troops.
twenty- boroughs were divided into four sectors,
borough line groans under the wall.
Sentinels in green uniforms stand guard in tall towers
One third of Berlin has become a roofless concentration camp.
glumly aware… a perverse element of historical continuity from the brown bunker to the Red wall.
the long column of guant referees refugees., streaming endlessly through Berlin, east to west… as predictable as the diurnal rising and setting of the sun.
pg. 5 [ok the problem with this is that practically most of it is notable in terms of prose!]
16:07:00 – 16:40:00 A Million Little Pieces by James Frey 
piss in a cup, shit in a plastic container, take a needle in my arm
put you on two hundred and fifty milligrams of Amoxicillin three times a day and five hundred milligrams of Penicillin VK once a day
toilet…. Thick red streams stick to its sides and brown pieces of my interior float in the water.
Orange and pink streaks sail across the blue of the sky, large birds silhouette themselves against the red of the rising sun, clouds inch their way toward me.
blood dripping from the wounds of my face
realize why dawn is called mourning.
wipe my face with my sleeve and I take off my robe
turn on the shower and I wait for the warm water.
skin is sallow and white.
torso is covered with cuts and bruises.
thin and my muscles sag
water runs down my chest and along the rest of my body.
take a bar of soap
lather up
[Water] slams into my skin and burns my skin and turns my skin red.
quaaludes
carpets are plush and the walls bright.
a soda machine, a candy machine, a large coffeepot, a Kitchen and a large table surrounded by chairs.
doors open onro large expanses of grass and trees
reed with long bony arms and delicate hands.
clean-cut, short hair, and clean shave.
stare hard
a long Hall with glass walls on wither side of it.
a Common Area with a salad bar and two cafeteria-style lines where food is served.
hot and each spoonful shoots a wave of pain through my lips, my cheek, my gums and my teeth.
small and cluttered and there are piles of paper everywhere and there are files everywhere.
walls are covered with schedules and small pictures of either people or landscapes
and there is a framed copy of the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous hsnging behind him.
reached for a file and he sets it on his desk
returning from lunch and are gathering in small groups at the tables, on the couches, in small clumps of fold-out chairs.
find a chair and I light a cigarette and I take a long deep drag and I look at the men sitting aroud me.
The afternoon and the early evening slide by in a lidded daze where the ability to think in any identifiable way disapears and where every moment seems to be an eternity.
lips are cut and cracked and they’re swollen to three times their normal size.
On the left side of my cheek a row of crusted scabbed stitches hold a deep, inch-long gash together.
nose is bent and swollen beneath its bandage and red lines stream from my nostrils.
black and yellow bruises beneath both of my eyes.
begin softly wiping [with wet paper towel]
Streaks crisscross my cheeks and scabs break and I wince in pain and the towel becomes soaked.
throw it away and I reach for another. I do it again. [x3]
wash my hands and watch the red drift from my skin into the sink and down the drain.
turn off the water and I run my hands through my hair and they’re warm and they feel good snd I try to look at myself again.
pg. 32
16:51:00 – 17:20:00 A Million Little Pieces by James Frey 
bowl of warm sugary oatmeal
Black clouds fill the Sky and patches of snow gather along the Ground.
What was once green is brown.
stare out the window at the drifting frozen landscape.
A mist from my breath collects itself on the glass and I begin to shiver.
huddle up and look at the Driver who is also huddled up and is driving slowly and watching the Road.
stop at a lonely intersection where the light is red and the roads are empty and the wind sends scraps of paper and leaves whipping through the air.
looks ancient.
messy white hair and a messy white beard and bright blue eyes.
skin looks as if it’d made of leather
thin forearms
look strong, despite his age
Halloween decorations hang from the Streetlights, and People, who all seem to know each other, wander in and out of rhe Shops.
a small dark Room with two couches, a sliding-glass Reception Area and a small table littered with magazines and Children’s books.
podunk Town
Except for the white coat and the clipboard, he looks like a Lumberjack.
puts on a pair of thin clear latex gloves.
grabs a flashlight from his pocket.
washes out my mouth and she stuffs it with cotton wads and plates and she takes some X-rays.
cotton wads are covered with blood
mouth feels as if it’s been brushed with sandpaper and slammed with a hammer.
sitting by myself under the orange and yellow of a fading October tree
walking alone across the lawn of the School with an armful of papers.
force some food past the bloody wrecks of my mouth.
thick brown hair that is thinning on top and a weathered face that looks as if it has taken a few punches.
wearing a bright blue-and-yellow silk Hawaiian shirt, small road silver glasses snd a huge gold Rolex
You think this is fucking funny?
pg. 39
Waves if nausea pulse through me.
blue and silver lights dancing everywhere…. close my eyes and the lights dance through my brain.
blood crawling slowly through my heart
think I’m going to pass out so I grab my face with one of my hands and I squeeze mt face.
pg. 40
17:25:00 – 17:37:00 The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger 
mealworms
went to the laundry room and looked in the Goodwill bags and found three pairs of Daddy’s pants but one had a big cigarette hole.
took two and I found a white shirt like Daddy wears to work and a tie with fishes on it and a red sweater.
yellow bathrobe
put the clothes in a bag and put the bag in the mudroom closet.
fried chicken with little peas and chocolate cake and Mark got the biggest piece but I didn’t say anything because I liked the beaters.
went and got my blue sweater with the zebras and I got the bag and I went out and went to the clearing.
pg. 44
in a spectacular J. M. W. Turner blowout orange and red over the trees.
clearing is empty except for a shopping bag full of clothes
dig through the bag of clothes.
pair of chinos
beautiful pair of brown wool trousers
hideous tie with trout all over it
Harvard sweater
oxford-cloth white shirt with ring around the collar and sweat stains under the arms
exquisite silk bathrobe with Philip’s monogram and a big tear over the pocket.
All these clothes are old friends, except for the tie, and I’m happy to see them.
pg. 44
August 31, 2026
15:01:00 – 15:36:00 The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegg 
small pale face catches the last orange light from the west.
hair is pulled back tightly into a ponytail
blue jeans and a dark sweater with zebras running across the chest.
little blue diary… blue ballpoint pen.
housewives sunning themselves on the museum steps.
pats one of the bronze lions as we go by.
swarming with people
stand in line, move through the entry, and slowly climb the grandiose central staircase.
enter the European Galleries and make our way backward from the seventh-century Netherlands to fifteenth-century Spain.
St. George stands poised, as always, ready to transfix his dragon with his delicate dpear while the pink and green princess waits demurely in the middleground.
yellow-bellied dragon
always relieved to find that his moment of doom has still not arrived.
Look for someone who is distracted.
Figure out where the wallet is.
Most men use either their back pocket or the inside pocket of their suit jacket.
With women you want the purse behind their back.
If you’re on the street you can just grab the whole purse,
but then you have to be sure you can outrun anybody who might decide to chase you.
much quieter if you can take it without them noticing.”
a movie where they practiced with a suit of clothes with little bells and if the guy moved the suit while he took the wallet the bells rang.”
lead Henry from the fifteenth century to the nineteenth; we arrive suddenly in the midst of French Impressionism.
Art Institute is famous for its Impressionist collection.
these rooms are jam-packed with people craning for a glimpse of La Grande Jatte or a Monet Haystack.
can’t see over the heads of the adults, so the paintings are lost on him… too nervous to look at them anyway.
woman is bending over her toddler as it twists and screams.
nod at Henry and move toward her.
purse has a simple clasp and is slung over her shoulder, across her back.
in front of Toulouse-Lautrec’s At the Moulin Rogue.
pretend to be looking at it as I walk, bump into her, sending her pitching forward, I catch her arm
hand in purse
catch her eye as I find her wallet, still apologizing, the wallet goes up my jacket sleeve
cram ourselves into a stall and I open her wallet.
show all this [the money and personal info] to Henry, silently, put the wallet back ad it was, and hand it to him.
walk out of the stall, out of the men’s room, back toward the entrance to the museum.
“Give this to the guard. Say you found it on the floor.”
“Why?”
“We don’t need it; I was just demonstrating.”
runs to the guard, an elderly black woman who smiles and gives Henry a sort of half-hug.
with me leading [need to start using this clause]
Short, portly, sunburnt, he looks as though he’s made a wrong turn from Wrigley Field in his baseball cap and polyester trousers with light blue short-sleeved button-down shirt.
lecturing his mousy [?] girlfriend on Vincent van Gogh.
strolls on, braying, blissfully unaware, with his wallet in his left hack pocket.
has a large gut but almost no backside… wallet is pretty much aching for me to take it.
deftly insert my thumb and forefinger into the mark’s pocket and liberate the wallet.
drop back, they walk on, I pass rhe wallet to Henry and he shoves it into his pants as I walk ahead.
pg. 51
15:39:00 – 16:22:00 A Million Little Pieces by James Frey 
ca a maze of carpeted Corridors
a large stapled booklet
think the World is aligned against me.
Vodka, gin, rum, tequila, bourbon, scotch.
day’s activities are done and the men are spread out in small groups across both of the Levels.
playing cards, talking shit, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee.
pick up the receiver and I start making collect calls.
How did they tolerate me.
HIV virus, which he probably contracted during ten years of mainlining crystal meth and fucking whores.
bottles of liquor and win everywhere
on the table in front of me is a large pile of white cocaine and a huge bag of yellow crack.
a torch, a pipe, a tube of glueand and an open can filled with gasoline.
grip the bottle, bring it to my lips and take a long deep draw that burns my mouth, my throat and my stomach.
For the briefest instance I feel ccomplete.
The pain I carry with me disappears.
comfortable and at rest, confident and secure, calm and composed.
feel good. Goddamn it, I feel fucking good.
feelings are gone as quickly as they came and I want them back.
don’t care what I have to do, what I have to take, what I have to endure.
I’ll do anything. I just want them to come back.
take another drink. It doen doesn’t work. I seize bottle after bottle, take I grab a different bottle, take a larger drink. It doesn’t work. I seize bottle after bottle, take drink after drink, nothing works.
Instead of feeling better, I feel increasingly worse.
Everything I felt that was good has become bad and it has been magnified beyond any point of reference or comprehension.
My only option was is to try and kill. Kill what hurts. Kill it.
switch to the drugs.
take a deep breath and I burn my face in the pile of coke and I inhale and my nostrils turn to fire and the back of my throat becomes an inferno.
rip open the bag of crack and I pull out a handful of small yellow rocks.
wipe the blood again adn I snatch the pipe, which is a long straight piece of glass and a screen filter and I start stuffing into it.
fill it, wipe the blood again, fire up the torch, put the pipe in my mouth, bring the flame to its tip. I inhale. [[two asterisks here that aren’t closed]]Hot peppermint barley mixed with napalm followed by a rush of a thousandfold stronger than the purest powder, a thousandfold more dangerous.
gone as fast as it came and I know it’s gone for good,[[another pair of unclosed asterisks here]]replaced by fear, dread and a murderous rage.
pg. 47
16:28:00 – 16:39:00 The Monkey’s Raincoat by Robert Crais 
order a pastrami on rye with Chinese hot mustard
slipped the Dan Wesson into my holster, put on the white cotton jacket, and picked up the sandwich on my way to the parking garage.
ate in the car driving up Fairfax, turning left at Sunset toward Brentwood.
got a Jamaica-yellow 1966 Corvette convertible.
shaping up as another brutal Los Angeles winter, low seventies, scattered clouds, clearing.
sky was that deep blue we get just before or just after a rain.
white stucco houses along the ridges were dharp and brilliant in the sun.
passed the coed-specked running paths of UCLA, then wound my way past a house that may have been the one William Holden used to slip the repossessors in Sunset Boulevard.
Old Spanish.
Same cornices and pilasters.
ghosts of old Hollywood haunting the eaves.
a stretch of apartment houses and condominiums.
drove past, turned around at a cross street, and parked.
older woman with wispy white hair eased a Hughes Marker cart off a curb and across a street.
Hot duck salad with raspberry sauce
sturdily built Chicano woman with a purse the size of a mobile home waited at a bus stop, squinting into the sun.
two guys sat in a dark blue ’69 Nova with a bad rust spot on the left rear fender.
pg. 10