I killed Mom and went to North Yarmouth where Anna Banana helped me dispose of the body, then set to work on the erotics of grammatical elucidation, even syntax! To the max!

Now we're going to win this prize for translation by the Swedish American Scandinavian Mother's Have Been Killed by the Winners Federation. It is very sad to have to compete, really.

If only my beloved Åsa can provide me with a letter confirming that I can publish it. We're all rooting for her.

Hilary gave me an album with songs just for me. Tomorrow New York City. Then Pittsburgh City.

Copy. Edit the head flipped into the ravine. I got scratched up by some ferns, the wound washed off in the waters of Wolf's Neck.

Me and Mom sat down today and went through some of the phrases which have remained 'in red'. I now have a fairly 'clean' copy of the original 110 pages of the book, as clean as seems reasonable without having gotten to translating any more of the book yet. I am passing these pages on to a friend who is a copy editor, so as to gain from fresh reflection upon them.

I am aware that many of my formulations aren't in and of themselves American, or any other English. I hope that some of the otherness of Swedish in relation to English can be maintained without rendering the English obscure. But to allow it to be strange, when it suits a distinct sense. The more I go over it the more normalized it becomes, the better surely. It is a matter of working up that strangeness into something recognizable, not merely inchoate, but rather speaking with the fluency of ripe distinctions.