"There is a black sun which is not visible to the human eye. It is our beacon and its fire burns within us." -- Akkadian temple inscription

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Black Sun

Steven Kaye's irregularly updated blog

Well, the good news is that Mom's surgery went well. I'll spare people the gruesome details, other than saying she won't be driving herself around for some time, and she's going to be starting some manner of cardiac rehab therapy. I was amazed at the support from people - not only people Nancy or I let know, but the temple (which sent by dinners and attempted to send the rabbi along as well), my sister's employer (which picked up her airfare for flying out to visit Mom and keep Dad distracted) and the staff at the library where Mom works (who lent her books and promised to let her know if anything she was interested in came in). I had a cold most of that week, so I didn't get to see Mom, but I did speak to her and she sounds much less like Abe Vigoda these days. And then I ran away to Vermont for a long Memorial Day weekend. For the hell of it, I decided to take Amtrak up rather than my usual JetBlue flight. Sure, it's a nine hour train ride, but I had a few books to keep me busy. Also, I have a love of natural scenery inexplicable in a child of the Jersey suburbs. All went well, until some point after New Haven when it was revealed that there was track work at White River Junction which would delay us. To put this in perspective, consider that the train I took up only runs once a day. Depending on when you asked, the delay would be one hour, a half-hour, or an hour and a half. In fact, it was two hours. And I didn't have a chance to call my friends and let them know I would be delayed. Surprisingly, my friend's children did not in fact eat her and we left the train station in short order for the hour ride back to her desrick. The person who mans the station is not an actual Amtrak employee, which I found intriguing as well. In what she calls "a classic Vermont moment," while she was waiting for the train, a local trooper suggested they visit the local library, as it was quite good. The next few days were a pleasant blur of movies (I finally saw Ran), home-made bread, attempts to lure me to my death, and pummelling of various organs by the aforementioned children. Oh, and Agnes Bernelle, of course. Here are some of her lyrics - I'm partial to "The Hurdy-Gurdy Man" myself, but she also does a great song based on Struwwelpeter. Next entry will discuss my problems with Permanence. No, really, this time I mean it.
© 2002, Steven Kaye