Odd Friday

Aramaic bits come back to me, this morning ... images from last evening. Lo Plugtei ... it was never an argument in the first place. Mai Nafke Mina ... what difference does it make this way or that. A a strange day for me ... Last minute cancellation by older Shrink who comes to visit me ... said he was in GI pain and distress ... I don't know what it's like to be in mid-80's and having given up most of my patients to "the years" .... Another person couldn't make it ... wanted to talk on phone ... trauma victim from early hospitalization and verbal torture .... forever in trauma .... an interview by a reaeacher during my lunch break on what it's like to witness the pain and trauma and stress narratives of those who have been seriously hurt earlier in life. ... The interviewer was about a third my age and, still, seemed so very tuned in to her research. Wasn't like I wanted to say, a la Ronal Reagan, "I won't hold your age against you " .... maybe I would have had I better "speech writers" on a staff .... at 6 O'clock before our welcoming in the Bride of Restfulness .... Come Bride, Come Bride ... accompanied by her entourage of angels ... just before then ... while M was heating up the Entree and the stuffed peppers and tomatoes that I had made early in the AM ... my eldest grandchild came to the office. She is leaving to the Holy Land in a week and wanted the names of our relatives who had "d. Auschwitz, c. 1944 " next to their names in a list of relatives. She wanted to carry them with her to the retaining wall that remains from the Temple. We talked about a competition between my Grandfather and his cousin for the love of my Grandmother. "Oh, a Soap Opera," she said. No, I responded. A soap opera is more common on cyber-listservs. "I know," she quickly peeled off from her young head and its CPU. In listservs, I typically come to like some and have "antipathic" relationships with others ... that's kinda like antipasto, only yesterday's antipasto left out to fester on a lonely corner of some kitchen counter... Sometimes, but rarely, I have both experiences with the same person. Last night I was visited by other angels ... my dead parents' dead neighbors who owned a cemetery monument business that chemically etched the names of my parents onto a shared stone. They owned a diner, in my dream ... and looked nothing like they had. There was a bar, there, too. I didn't engage with the clientelle in the restaurant, nor did I eat ... I was just passing through and spoke to my dead parents' dead neighbors; that was a sufficiency. I imagine, as I write, that someone will ask something ... ask for details or "why" questions that I dislike but I will have given as much as I wish to give. Is anyone ever satisfied!? Today, I shall cantillate from Ezekiel and offer Praise and Gratitude for all that comes to me this Spring ... a friend and I agreed to share such senses in song. The unfolding fractals ... they continue to unfold. Where is my buddy, Kohelles and his pages of Ecclesiastes, when I need him. The phone will ring ... It's already 630 and none of my visitors have called.