musings on i b s

i am reading i b s, as in issac bashevis singer. by the way i have a sort of second degree relationship with i b s. for a while i was getting regular rides from an israeli guy for chinese martial arts classes. this is long before i begin studying torah with my rabbi. so one day this guy says, my grandfather is isaac bashevis singer. what do i say? well, what do i know. i say, singer, as in the sewing machine? as i recall now there might have been a pause coming from him. then he says, no. then, i think, another pause. a question comes to me because this guy's last name is zamir. i say, this is the grandfather from your mother's side? he says, no, he's my father's father. i have more questions but it is obvious he doesn't wnat to clarify any further. so i swallow my burning question. how come your father's last name is not singer?

anyhow, anyway, as i read singer's writing i feel, in a way, we are doing something similar in very broad strokes. he is incredible in integrating the internal and external worlds, the mundane and mystical. his writing voice is conversational, lively, directly speaking to the reader. i don't have his masterly level of writing skills. not yet. but in my own way this is what i want to do. to bring together the immortal and mortal worlds into a seamless whole.