Buck likes to dress in front of a poster of Oscar Wilde like it is a mirror. Today he told off everything he put on for being stiff, rebellious, etc. Wants puce gloves and green boots. Not quite over Wilde and paradoxes no matter what he says. And he thinks my hat is artsy. Called himself Mercurial Malachi, that Mercurius that is made up of all conceivable opposites, a contradiction and I suppose it is one but not how he sees it. He is vulgar mercury, hardly the anima mundi. He is both creative and destructive, though, I give him that. And he is solvent, despite what he pretends.