'I will never write anything else again... my reader is no one else but death.'

despite having 'enough books several times over' horsemouth has bought another book. 

he has bought  nostalgia by mircea cărtărescu. one squid. (charity shop the end of powerscroft road (rspca? scope?)). penguin modern classics edition. 

price (he has been spoiled by the book boxes) and the fact that the author was east european played a part in his decision. horsemouth guesses this illustration (found on the blank pages inside the back cover) is the roulette player - a previously down on his luck character now gambling his life while playing russian roulette. 

his copy has been annotated by a previous owner. based on the a short pronunciation guide to the romanian language  written by the translator julian semilian within, advice on how to pronounce the authors name has been written on the back cover (meercha curturescoo). sadly this is not completely correct (it should be méercha cúrturescoo). 

there are two drawings on the blank pages at the end of the novel, the other seems to show the author (from the photo on the back cover) aged. 

there are a few marks in the margin either indicating particularly good lines or the need for a new paragraph. only the first chapter is so annotated, at p.24 there's a 'cf. zweig!' at p.20 there's a comment 'only force majeur' on the roulette player's decision to play with 6 bullets.

the annotations end after the first chapter - maybe the previous owner was an actor performing it as an audition piece or a playwright considering dramatising it. 

the edges of the front and back cover have been reinforced with sellotape. (in case anyone recognises their copy).

anyway it has supplanted ice in his reading affections. 

horsemouth had another wander out round the bookshops in  the afternoon but nothing spoke to him from off the shelves. there was a picador borges (no he way wrong it was italo calvino time and the hunter a picador edition but it wasn't in particularly good condition, and it was two fifty and horsemouth has unread borges and calvino  sitting around here anyway). 

today he plans to make it down to the sally army near the bottom of mare street (it is closer than the walthamstow one).

horsemouth is up. the coffee has done its work.  this is a written entirely in the morning blogpost

he had a plan for saturday (but it will have to be delayed until next saturday) and in truth it's not much of a plan. horsemouth's strategy is to trust to luck - has that worked out for him? well no it hasn't gentle readers. 

this saturday he will be playing music and singing and he's a little out of practice.  he will probably be meeting howard at stepney green tube (and they will proceed from there). he's not even sure what guitar he will be taking. 

oop the sun is just making it over the houses opposite and into horsemouth's room. the coffee is nearly done and a little cold. the binmen have been and taken the recycling.