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On:

Lying here in a hospital bed, I have realized that both Whitley and I have had our lives saved by dogs. Or is it really God in our lives?

Here’s why I think it might be. One night about three years ago while Whitley was meditating, he saw in his mind’s eye a big old dog shambling up to him. He recognized the dog as being the pet of a childhood friend. The dog was called Quagmire, and despite the fact that he had a really hard life, Quag was always bursting with joy.

I said to him, ‘It’s the joy message all over again. Joy in adversity.’ Then I thought to myself, dog is an anagram of god. So I said, ‘maybe it was a meeting with god.’ He laughed and said, ‘if I’m going to believe that, I need a sign.’
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On:

I’m still in the hospital. I may have some radiation treatment, not because I have cancer, which I don’t, but because they had to leave a portion of the meningioma in my brain, and radiation will sterilize it and prevent it from growing again. Not all meningiomas are benign, but mine is.
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On:

UPDATE: I had my brain operation on May 1st, during which several non-cancerous tumors were removed. For some reason, in my life, these experiences always involve jewelry. This time, a nurse brought me a pin that said “I’ve just had brain surgery, what’s your excuse?”

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On:

I read a lot of fiction, and I can tell you this: Truth is stranger than any plot I’ve ever come across.

I recently read two novels that centered around art theft, and learned that famous artworks aren’t stolen for collectors, they’re used as collateral by (mainly Russian and Eastern European) criminals.

Then I read in the New York Times about an FBI raid on an art gallery located in a fancy Upper East Side Hotel. The agents were looking for artworks that had been stolen from collectors and museums.
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