Wilfrid

Oh, right, I read that "nearby" as odd. But there's no serious editing going on there.

I am going to jump ahead to some smaller volumes after Faustus. I am looking forward to (some of) Les Thibaults, but any way I cut it up it's huge. 36. Martin du Gard, TheThibaults 37. Henry Miller, Sexus 38. Yukio Mishima, Decay of the Angel 39. Moorcock, Mother London 40. Moravia, but which one? 41. Musset, A Child of the Century 42. Philippe, Bubu of Montparnasse The Mishima or either of the last two above would be good to move up the list.

I can get nauseous with opioids, especially when I foolishly drink with them. But it's better than the pain.

I felt like a change from gin cocktails so picked up a bottle of Brugal Anejo. Ironically, the two best drinks I made with it were a rum Negroni and a rum Martinez. Deliciously rich.

Aged 78. A very familiar face.

I had definitely not read Dr Faustus. About halfway through and it's a grind. I was even driven to look at a bio of Mann to try and figure out why he wrote it this way (explicitly boring narrator) and discovered he actually wrote a book about writing it (Story of a Novel). My library had it, so I now know Mann's excuses. I guess I pity the translator. In the novel's big scene, the main character apparently expresses himself in archaic German. The translation is agonizing ("I wot not, forsooth"). This is the worst experience in this re-reading so far (and The Magic Mountain is so good).

Happiest memory in recent years, a hotel buffet in Prague. You could go continental, cooked breakfast, or mix it up. And the quality was fabulous. I think the hotel was about $50 a night (and I wasn't paying). In fact, when I told my conference hosts I was planning to stay a couple of extra nights at my own expense they told me they'd cover it.

Opposite experience. I was given so many Oxycodone after each of my hip surgeries that to this day, years later, I still have a large supply. And they still work (I only touch them if I have serious pain for some reason).

Hm, that was more than a month ago. I just finished watching last night. 40 episodes, and the relationship between the two main characters was unresolved. Maybe they were hoping for season 2. But it was fun to watch it on the road. I stayed somewhere cheap in Chicago -- no breakfast buffet and no TV in my room -- so I watched it on my phone. Then I stayed at Vrbo in Cleveland with a vast Roku TV. As the show was on YouTube I was able to watch Zhou Dongyu, probably larger than she is in real life.

Bedroom A/C has been off the last few nights. About 3am on Monday I had to get up and find a comforter, I was so cold. Today looks like...normal weather. Not everything is normal, of course; I had to plan a new route to my doctor appointment to avoid the falling-building-exclusion-zone in midtown.

I don't think I ever visited a buffet in Vegas, but I have dim memories of one in a casino in Atlantic City. Do all-you-can-eat hotel breakfast buffets still exist? They used to be common. But so did free food during happy hours.

My daughter is a crazed England fan, running to Brit-themed bars for the games in her England jersey. I was surprised at first (she supports the US womens team) but she has dual citizenship and has backed the better horse.

I had no hopes for the England team, but that win made me reconsider.

Belgium solved the problem the best way. Nothing against team USA, not their fault, but now the tournament can go back to being sport.

I woke up this morning, checked the time, 9.01 am, and immediately a bomb went off. Better since then.

Oh right now, rain and a real sharp cold breeze.

With you guys.

Yes, I saw fists. England won't have the breath to brawl at the top of a mountain tomorrow.

Blessed to feel the cool breezes blowing through right now. If only the explosions would stop.

1. I saw the Tall Ships event too late. Looked great. 2. Mostly lucky with subway AC but had to jump cars once. 3. Cheese dog, no defense. Random choice but I squirted mustard, not ketchup. Also a beer in Ruby's. I checked into MoMA today which was cold as a freezer. Good. Then walked down to Times Square where I thought the Naked Cowboy was better dressed than the poor people in like rabbit suits.

I made it to Coney Island, which gave me around 2 and a half hours of free MTA AC. There was a sea breeze, but it couldn't beat the temperature. Pretty quiet, tomorrow maybe crazy. Always hard to imagine eating countless hot dogs at speed, but in this weather tomorrow?

Possibly worthy of comment. Here are my observations from yesterday. - The heat made my skin feel prickly. - I could sense the heat of the pavement through the sturdy soles of my shoes. And this really is a first: - I walked six minutes from the Met to my library. At some point I went to adjust my glasses and the metal frames were burning hot. (Of course, the parts that touch my face are plastic; I guess another ten degrees and they would have started melting.)

Appears to be streaming on Amazon. Thanks.

I wasn't paying attention to this until I saw Ed Norton talking about it on TV. Yes, it's a somewhat painful story about a broken relationship. But it's also unbelievably funny. Laugh out loud (almost throughout). Just two couples in an apartment. Norton, Rogen and Cruz are great, but I had no idea Olivia Wilde could act like this. And she directed it. Don't miss.

Me too. I even felt a bit guilty about disliking much of her music writing.