The manuscripts of my stack are contained in filing cabinets, boxes, and loose piles on top of, and around, the filing cabinets.

I think. I'm not sure.

A box--of books? Manuscripts?--has a bumper sticker on it.

FLORIDA'S SHAME.

Louisiana's shame was it refused to license chiropractors. The chiropractors put up a billboard at the state line.

Florida's shame was it licensed writers, and refused to license me. I put up a billboard in the counterfair I held in my front yard when the Delray Affair denied me a booth.

I called my counterfair The Dreyfus Affair - Banned Books.

Banned books was not news, to the media.

I announce today from my website that I am founding an exploratory committee to look into founding an America's Greatest Writer Library, by analogy with President Bush's Presidential Library, where the manuscripts of my stack will be preserved in appropriate conditions, studied by scholars, and published in a uniform edition, with a design to the series, and the books be made available to readers in a cheap, but durable mass market edition, ha ha, it is to laugh.

No, wait--it's Larry's. He can do with it whatever he deems necessary.

It's his. I sent it to him. I'm not an Indian-giver.

A living example of a correspondence novel, or the correspondence novel. Perhaps the best example in existence, perhaps the only possible example.

But an example. The sum and substance of my life and work.

I saw the America's Greatest Writer Library and it's there, it exists, in the form it exists in, whatever other form would it assume? Could it assume? It's form is appropriate. About what you would expect.