(To Confound has got to be written in voice of strident hubris, madman genius shaking his fist at world cackling)

(To Confound has got to be written in voice of strident hubris, madman genius shaking his fist at world cackling. Yes he is mad, but mad like Fantomas. Fu Manchu. Surely To Confound CAN be the very tiny germ from which my great book can arise. But MIXED with all the Berlin stuff, “I suffer gravity only to defeat it again!” Return to it but with mad surrealism, don’t stick to narrow chronology of diary.)
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