Saturday, November 26, 2016


Tampering, fidgety, always tampering with something, restive, restless, antsy, always tampering with something. First in my mind the liturgy, the Episcopal Church “tampering with the liturgy” as Malcolm Boyd said it back in the 1970s when General Convention did the Zebra Book and ultimately the 1976/79 BCP to us. Early on, I used to read a periodical or something Malcom Boyd sent out, maybe it was in his critique of the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar. Malcolm Boyd was a character, I miss his cynicism. I remember when his mother took sick and died. I remember when Boyd died. I miss his cynicism. 

But tampering, the word, thought, that woke with me from a dream that stirred me to consciousness just after one o’clock this morning. In the dream, tampering with a recipe or something, God tampering, messing with my life such that here I am, when on my own I’d undoubtedly have goofed it all up and ended up in prison or something with this mouth and temper [that thought must have broken free out of the right brain, heel, heel, I say]. So God tampers with one: God can be heavy if one listens; heavier, heaviest if one ignores, ask me. IDK, maybe at various times of life God did a Job on me, IDK. At any event I’m happily up here in 7H at this point in this little sometime melodrama of waking, sleeping, dreaming, waking …   

Joe and SO are at a Blue Ridge Parkway resort for the T-giving weekend. Lovely pic. Not 7H but lovely. Choose: seashore or mountains. Top mountains. Below sunset beyond Redfish Point from PB407.

In short order: off toward Port Canaveral. Stay tuned, Self.


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