Dear Eugene

Dear Eugene, Last night a perennial question in the literary world was settled: Whether Philip Roth will ever win the Nobel. That needs not be asked any more; Roth passed away last night . I have a feeling he would have chosen to hold on if not for the Nobel being cancelled this year .  (They don't give the Prize to a dead man.  How thoughtful.)  But to wait till next fall to be disappointed all over again?  Nah, f*** it.   His words. Yes, the time that Roth could have won the Nobel has come but passed him by and there is no second round.  He knows.  He writes about that's how life is.  He whines.  Like a baby.  But he must admit it's the most fitting punchline to his sick joke of a life. I was saddened when I heard the news this morning, though I've expected it long time coming.  He's always been writing about sickness and dying anyway.  Like, dead already, dude.   I can hear him laugh. I feel like writing tw...

Dear Eugene, This morning I emailed my two teenage kids: "Let me invite you to spend some time this weekend to read this short story while you are praying for God's guidance about the burden of a vision I have shared with you just now, and see if you can find Jesus between the lines: 'Dimension' by Alice Munro ." I must've read this story more than ten times.  Yesterday morning I read the news and this morning I spend two hours to meditate on the story again.  Still hits me like nothing else. Praying for a new dimension breaking in. Yours, Alex

Dear Eugene, I was again reading Pasternak's "Doctor Zhivago" last night, this time a new translation that came out not too long ago.   "While Lara, slowly going around the praying people, copper money clutched in her hand, went to the door to buy candles for herself and Olya, and went back just as carefully, so as not to push anyone, Prov Afanasyevich managed to rattle off the nine beatitudes, like something well-known to everyone without him.   Blessed are the poor in spirit … Blessed are those who mourn … Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness …    Lara walked, suddenly shuddered, and stopped. That was about her. He says: Enviable is the lot of the downtrodden. They have something to tell about themselves. They have everything before them. So He thought. It was Christ’s opinion." Enviable is the lot of the downtrodden...some "opinion" Christ had... When I was young no one in church ever helped me to mak...

Dear Eugene, Every morning I'd have a list of chores to do before writing. Only that they are not mundane tasks to me.  They are spiritual disciplines, firm habits, pilgrimage to reach a place where I'll be spoken to. Nothing and everything is necessary. My wife just called me upstairs in the middle of my last sentence; she spilled something on the ceramic stove top, Chinese porridge dessert, starch, sugar, something for tonight for Others sloshing into the morning of this Self. A nasty circle.  You know what that means if you ever had the pleasure to deal with one of those.  A crater on earth as it is on the moon.  Alien from space beyond my tranquil inner being to take my civility hostage.  Big green oblong face, dark convex eyes staring at me. Someone please hand me a laser gun. I took pinches of baking soda and methodically baptized the circle, a light sprinkle here, a full immersion there, all denominations welcome. Sand mandala , I thought....