  Nomar's Back and So Am I After 25 hours of traveling, I am back in the states. I'm not home yet, however, so normal posting probably won't resume until Monday. I don't want to bore anyone with a self-indulgent travelogue, but I will say this: Poland rocks. Krakow, in particular, rocks. I have never loved a city so fully so quickly. Few cities manage to be both so vibrant and historical, so youthful and venerable all at once. And man, the pierogies will knock your socks off. I would live there if they'd have me. As if in honor of my return, Reagan is dead and Nomar is back.
Not to speak ill of the dead, of course, (rather, only to intimate it via euphemism), but famous people I don't like tend to die when I'm on vacation. Could I, perhaps, be the center of the universe? Such proof is, of course, both scant and strange. It's amazing, the patterns that cohere over the span of comprehensive chaos. Monkeys, typewriters, Shakespeare, sure, but it's even more interesting when the pattern is wholly original and still recognizable. After two weeks in the hearth of Catholicism, two weeks of skull decorated chapels, immense cathedrals, saintly relics, scale mail and Auschwitz, meaning seems a little more meaningful. Perhaps, once my photographs are in order, I'll do a photo-essay on this Polish Death Trip. Death is holy, and my place in the universe feels a little more secure for all the pondering I have done recently of this immense and singular truth (Like I was saying before I left: one layer of meaning, thick as an iceberg, is preferable to multitudes of overlapping but waifer thin meanings.
) A welcome is perhaps in order to anyone here for the first time in the past few days, thanks to Nathalie Chicha's impeccable plug. What a gal. Welcome. Please stick around. And thanks again to Scott for minding the place while I was gone. Links, coherence on Monday. It's good to be back. 
