Have completed writing my shorto novel: “Controversial Boyle.” I think I have invented the best water colorist I could have dreamed of conjuring from the bowels of Rumanian fantasy. Sick tiny freezing ice pellets shower this four story and crumbling March night. I just can’t read the whole chapter on Satan from Empson’s thought spiking book: “Milton’s God.” Maybe I shall meet Belial at the German restaurant on South Tyson Street in Floral Park. I have decided that this (most certainly empty eatery,) is where I should end up tonight. I will return alive.