I want money. I need money. I will have all the money I desire. I am a money mag­net. Money is my servant. This is a medita­tion, folks, don’t mind me, just keep read­ing. I’m trying to materialize $100 bills in the bush outside my door. I wouldn’t mind some new clothes, either, or some expen­sive health food instead of all this Wonder Bread and Spam. Please don’t think me crude and selfish. I’ll work on world peace, universal brotherhood, etc., just as soon as I summon up enough money to buy that $50 janitor suit I saw at Sears or that $27 aluminum baseball bat I’m going to use to bust up this dump I live in so I can start all over.

After quitting his job on public televison last year, David Grant decided to maintain a month of silence. This journal was wrillen during the last two weeks, when he travelled on foot, carrying a petition calling for military disarmament. His only companion was his goat, little Iowa, who carried provisions.

Sophie’s Choice by William Styron. Random House, 515 pp. $12.95   Early in S…

I ended my last letter swimming in heavy surf. I still am. And my images come from my childhood on Narragansett Beach. There was a raft anchored out beyond the breakers and a line, buoyed with cork floats, between it and the shore. On calm days we used to hold on to the line to rest as we swam out. When the surf got huge I got bashed and battered if l tried to hang on. The only thing to do was to swim free trusting my body and the water as I dove down under the turbulence of each breaking wave on my way out to deeper water. I remember a Sufi saying: “There are treasures beyond compare in the ocean. If you seek safety stay ashore.” I also remember that I did not like to use a surfboard. I much preferred to body surf with nothing between me and the direct experience of the wave of bubbling, foaming, rushing water until I landed in the sandy shallow of the beach.

Pretend that this is a movie. You are seeing two men create a curl of dust as they drive in a pick-up down a dirt road. The one driving is old, his features molded like leather, worn and stretched by a hard working foot. Many miles he’s seen, of steel, concrete, glass and plastic worked and erected.