I almost took up The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn agayne after posting that last on that godawful dreck MacArthur Park but I was in such wretched humor that I didn't want to write something I'd regret agayne. I was getting close to the end and it was awful. it disgusted me more to read the last few chapters but I promised myself I would finish it. Every of the last few chapters I've read is on the Tom Sawyer crap and it's so bad that it's hard for me to get through. That is not to say however that all of the post-1879 portion of the book is hideous, to the contrary some of Twain's very best writing is post-'79 but then, blast him, I don't know what happened to him. I picked up this damn book up agayne after I finished some other book and it has been so much bother it's right up there (the way that I feel now) with the biggest blunders of my life. I'll tell you what, there ain't gonna be no third time for this shit! That goddamned book is going to follow Cormac McCarthy down the trash shoot when I'm done. (This is not my "new improved" post on Twain.)