Dear Marion,

Thank you for both your letters. I'm uncertain how adequately
I shall be able to anwer them tonight. The spirit seems to be
somewhat more lethargic than usual.

Of course I worry about your health, and obviously I'm helpless
when it come to assisting you. My concern: that almost any
opinion of mine will create new problems without solving the
existing ones. It's not at all helpful that I hold the medical
profession in a regard so low that it borders on contempt. I ask
myself why should one attribute pathological significance to
dyspnea which as you report occurs with oxygen saturation greater
than 90%? I ask myself whether I am in error when I presume to
identify as the primary cause of your pulmonary problems the
physical limitation of lung expansion in consequence of overweight?
Wouldn't a program of weight reduction hold the greatest promise
for improving your health? Where are your doctors? What do they
think, if they think? What do they care? I'm distressed to hear
myself nagging you; that shouldn't be my function. But some one
should, and who else is there?

After the "status hearing" a week ago, I'm still trying to orient
myself. I've almost abandoned my plans for discovery, since they
would almost surely be stymied by the defendants and could be
carried out only with the support of the Court, which it would
be unrealistic to expect. The mendacity and ruthlessness of the
Nantucket authorities is such that I must be careful not to
permit a situation to arise where they could accuse me of some
criminal act, as for examples, having me arrested for allegedly
threatening (which I would never do) an inspector with whom I
had tried to negotiate in the absence of witnesses. The Court
which turns a blind eye and a deaf ear to the Town's fabricated
charges - in rem - against my plumbing, could hardly be expected
protect me against far more dangerous fabricated charges in
personam. The truth is that when justice "breaks down" it's not
a joke, it's a catastrophe. - or am I being hysterical?

This house is in reasonable order. I got rid of the electric organ
that took up so much space in the basement. There are many storage
boxes that should be set out for the trash collector, - but I'm
reluctant to throw anything away without consultation with Klemens;
and he wants everything to be kept. As a result the number of
containers lining the basement walls is growing almost month by month.
Nor have I summoned the courage to start reconnecting the radiators
in the living room and in the bedroom immediately above for proper
zoning, for the reason that I'm concerned I might encounter eighty
year old fused pipe fittings that I was unable to dismantle; and
what would I do then? Obviously, my zest for adventure is flagging.

Instead, I've been transfering some of the recorded music on
the 33 rpm vinyl discs of a "Beethoven Centennial Collection"
dated 1970 (the 200th anniversary of Beethovens birth) which
I inherited from Margrit - she died 2 years ago day after tomorrow -
onto compact discs, a benign and harmless enterprise, quite pleasant
because it is invariably successful.  And while I wait for fantasy
and imagination to catch up, I have been editing the first five
pages of chapter 49 of the novel. I'm at a juncture in my writing
where the story can branch into and explore any one of a number of
novel dimensions; I must be careful not to gallop off in the wrong
direction. I'll do my best. And good night.

Jochen