I just want to sit up all through the night reading my Karl Kraus book and then get up sometime in the afternoon, read through the newspapers, take cuttings. This way of life is deeply pleasurable to me. I feel in another world, totally cut off from the real one around me, a kingdom of shades. This feels like the most valuable time of my life. I am letting my inner wells fill up again. All my ink wells had run dry and now I am slowly ordering the new supplies and accepting the deliveries when they come in. I am once more Dr Pozzi at Home, walking my blood red corridors on my blood red carpets, in my blood red dressing gown all day & night long, never going outside the citadel. I want to see Shackleton’s Antarctic Adventure at the BFI IMAX but I will let it pass. I want to see Faith Healer. I want to see —- —- when it comes out in February. But all these things seem very far away from me at the moment. I am the Borgia Pope, travelling around the black cosmos in his red velvet-lined spaceship. I have been sealed inside my ship for three weeks now. My purdah has been long. My fugue has been extended. Graham Greene always went to places of danger. I want to go to these places, too but not just yet. Set things in motion. Set the pendulum swinging. I want to write about this battle, because it fascinates me. It thrills me, it puts aniseed in my mouth. The only thing that will get me out of this hell is the one thing I don’t seem to want to do. The river of lava has disappeared into a black hole in the ground but, don’t worry, it is flowing still underground, to burst out again soon at a place of its time and choosing. I will not put any pressures on myself ever again.