'little friend, pour forth'

 5th december 1915 and kafka is having a manic episode.

'(it) began with my considering if and how many war bonds I should buy. twice went to the office to give the necessary order and twice returned without having gone in. feverishly computed the interest... I felt myself directly involved in the war...' 

but then,

'gradually my excitement underwent a transformation, my thoughts turned to writing... with pains in my heart crossed the stone bridge a ta run, felt what I had experienced so very often, the unhappy sense of a consuming fire inside me that was not allowed to break out, made up a sentence 'little friend, pour forth' - incessantly sang it to a special tune, and squeezed and released a handkerchief in my pocket in accompaniment as if it were a bagpipe.' 

horsemouth has just started re-reading alice w. flaherty's the midnight disease an account of graphomania, compulsive writing, and writers block. elsewhere rick beato and andy edwards go at it over creativity and the age when people do their best work (in horsemouth's case long gone). 

elsewhere, yesterday evening, he listened to controlled weirdness interview noted scenester miss pink. there's a deptford connection to back to the planet which horsemouth hadn't realised. 

he acquired at some point in the day a stiffness in his neck and shoulder (too much time on the laptop he thinks), he will try to get it under manners today.