Bobby Fischer is dead

How troubling that a true chess genius died at only sixty-four (coincidence?) and that the end of his life so wrought with madness and taint. I'm suddenly reminded of Alexander, weeping for he had no worlds left to conquer. I expect to see chess solved within my lifetime.

It's cold and raining where I am now. I just ate half of a dry cheese sandwich. Earlier today I read Cormac McCarthy's The Road; bleak and moving, Pulitzer or no.