Monday, February 3, 2020


Lucky's January 2002

Just one day back in Montecito, the Iceland trip is a surreal dream.    

I watch Angels of Universe, a story about an Icelandic artist who goes mad, is committed to the Klepp, discharged, and commits suicide.   

Sigur Ros, whose CD I brought back with me, sounds like a fetus trying to make sense of life outside the womba metaphor, perhaps, for existence in Iceland: brighter in January than we expected, but way darker beneath the surface.

Van Stein and I meet at Lucky's for post-trip (psycho) analysis and martinis.  

“We tapped into something,” he says.  “We went out there light and breezy, joking about berserk..."

"... And," I finish his thought, "we found the real thing.”  

Van Stein nods grimly. “Theres more to this, you know.  Berserk-ness in Iceland was just the initiation.”

Little did we know...