I'm both grouchier and more alert today, which I think has to do with the amounts of various medical chemicals floating in my system, and the more alert I am the more I try not to read anything I've sent you already, since much of it is so confusing I don't even know what it was I meant to say, much less what I actually said. I cannot figure out when is the right time to stay awake, and I keep dropping off, only to have extremely strange dreams in which you are garbed in some strange yellow cloud of material with an empire waistline, arguing with me about an idiotic plotline written on the dance floor. I don't know if it's because I won't dance or because the plotline doesn't make sense, but you're in a state about it. Too much Persuasion in my free time, probably, and serves you right for siding with the circus show that keeps parading through the door and doing the most absurd things, like cleaning and putting on soup.
I don't remember saying Anne did or did not deserve anything. I just assumed that you did. I stick by what I said about the question being superfluous, however. The Anne at the end of the book is not the Anne described at the beginning of the book, who isn't the same Anne described before the book began. Persuasion is about changing view points, and moreover it is about getting old, which is probably why it is so ridiculously grim, and every relocation is utterly joyless.
As far as your comparison between thought and body, I think your imagination needs work. My cynicism allows for the suggestion of better experience, perhaps, to feed it.
On that note, I won't consign your last note to a postscript, since it seems to deserve more dicussion, especially since the appearance of an old lover while reading Persuasion is almost too good to ignore. Again I have to say that rather than time having anything to do with it, your former beau probably isn't the same person you knew nor the person you imagined he would be without you. I'm impressed you do not congratulate yourself on his fallen state. (I assume he must be fallen, in some way, or you wouldn't feel sorry for him.) I can think of a great many people who would not be sorry to meet me as I am, since I left the better and surely don't remain so. The dandy I told you about was personable, but hardly generous.
I still haven't the slightest idea what you might want to read, except that I have no teenage vampire vitriol in my collection, so you can rest easy on that point, at least.
P.S. You should stay on the clock to write at me. I can afford it.