November 14, 2007

Long dream of a burning church last night. Two of us– I’ve forgotten who the other was, though maybe it was Tom– were there when the fire started, and called the fire trucks, which did not come. We watched it burn to the ground then poked around in the ruins to see if anything was salvageable. Turned out that every scorched bookcase or shelf had another one behind it, full of hidden documents, still readable after the fire.

Discovered that Roger Casement and I share a birthday. Next to Edgar Rice Burroughs, this is the best one yet.

Lunch with Chall, in one of his patterned thrift shop jackets that only he can wear. He is so cultured and self-possessed I always feel like a bit of a ruffian in his presence. I was happy talking with him. I think he invited me to lunch to comfort me for being hated by everyone because of my blog. What a curiosity that continues to be to me. What a welter of misapprehensions–some of them clearly mine! I wonder if anyone has considered what mischief I could do if mischief were my actual object.

Riley passed outside on the walk as we ate. He was like the sun. The recollection warms me again.