ne(one)piphany

In Boston, and sick, dog sick, a miserable, all-too-familiar stomach sick. Usually I’m spared a day, a few hours, of peaceful vacationing before it pounces on me like an attention-starved cat — but not this time. I blame airplanes: the filthy, filthy beasts. It’s being stuck in a tin can for five hours breathing stale air infested with who knows how many strains of thisitis or thatococcus — a ripe agar, these modern comforts.

So I am up & unhappily awake. Elaine Pagels is on television, talking about the Gospel of Judas, which at least is good and fascinating. Half of this National Geographic special is a refresher class after reading The Gnostic Gospels, but I eat this stuff up (and am not presently in any condition to consume much else). Beyond Belief is in my travel case, though I cannot justify starting a book at this hour. Hopefully my body will settle down and I can get some rest, and just in time to travel again, too.

I like traveling. It’s the getting there I hate — which is, more or less, the story of my life.