the sky is lousy with zepplins today, crewed by the dead. somebody over near grand army plaza was shooting incidiary rounds or flaming arrows or something at one of the airships, & brought it crashing down like a star onto several buildings. so now i'm worrying about the rest of brooklyn catching fire, igniting into a pyre big enough to draw down the eye of god. the fever has mostly left my body by now, & strength has begun to return to my pale limbs, & so it is with brooklyn; if it burns, it will emerge from its ashes better & stronger. we'll come at last into the final age, leaving the kali yug behind for the mordicai yug. then we'll fucking see who's serious. we will not be trifled with. we will not be stopped, or shaken.