November 3, 2024

Influenza. I’m so used to my usual panoply of idiosyncratic afflictions– phlebitis, anemia, fasciatus– that garden variety flu is a bit of a relief.  Have slept almost literally all day. When not sleeping, I thought of the Internet repair guy. He was black, and wore bright yellow overalls and hat, and the contrast between sepia and yellow made you suppose he was something other than a repair man. I told him that I lost nothing on my property, but that my church was “swept away.” He looked vary serious and said, “I hear a lot of that, people talking about their lives being swept away without very much emotion at all. I’m not used to it yet.”  I suppose the Tragic Attitude is the hardest one to sustain. He said power will be going on and off for the next few weeks, and not to expect any progress on Sunday, as they all get Sunday off. It is Sunday–our patronal feast day-- and sometime the Internet came back on, for how long who knows. My illness kept me from singing Lauridson at Trinity. 

Big article on Black Mountain in Southern Living Magazine. Several of the places it recommends are gone.