DThos zero



Several “daily news update” sort of emails arrive early and wait for me each morning. Usually and intentionally I look at them later, after I’ve written and published my blogpost for the day. But this morning the unusual and unintended happened: just as happened yesterday, again this morning FaceBook would not process my until-yesterday-daily-post of my link, and with it first picture, to my daily PlusTime blogpost. A bit frustrated, I fooled with it awhile, fiddled and fussed, and then quit. Just qyit, not gave up, just alphabet quit. I mean, WTH do I care about FaceBook, it’s not central to any part of my Being and if I told my grandfather, “Pop, oh no, FaceBook wouldn’t take my post this morning,” guess what Pop would say.

So qyitting, I opened my mail. A long CNN daily with “five things” I need to get up to speed and out the door. Nevermind, later maybe. Worse, NYT has started something similar, and though I scroll down it, there’s no doubt in my mind that if I click and open one of their stories, it will count against my ten-for-the-month, and I’m not wasting one to read about Michael Flynn, as I say, I'm saving to read about the Eschaton. 

The Atlantic has a good update, daily, I think.

The New Yorker, same thing, so though their articles are mostly excellent, I have to mind how many I open or they want me to pay subscribe. TWP, the Washington Post also has a daily update, but they’re right nasty about it: anymore I open one, the screen switches immediately to some BS like “you obviously appreciate good writing, so pay for a subscription” TWP can stuff it. BBC though, BBC hasn’t let me down (yet), daily they offer six categories of things they say I ought to read. Usually I scroll them all, sometimes I open one. As this morning, a piece about abandoning the notion of goals in life. It made me retrospective. An early goal was to be a Navy admiral, and I thought I was on the way just letting it happen, but then had to suffer months away at sea away from my children during the Vietnam War, and I thought, realized and decided - - well nevermind what I thought, what I decided was that this idea wasn’t worth a(n) ess-word, and since it’s too far to jump overboard and swim back to SanDiego, I’ll finish twenty and out; and on the way to finishing twenty I realized that I couldn’t have just “let it happen” anyway, I’d have to calculate and be here and be there and kiss this one’s and that one’s butt and I lost respect for all the admirals I'd got to know except two. I haven’t had a goal since. Okay, theological seminary to ordination probably was a goal, but what I found at seminary was that the reading, classes, lectures, studying, and immersion of my imagination and intelligence made seminary itself worthwhile regardless of ordination, as in that Chevrolet commercial, “Getting there is half the fun.” And what I’ve found since is that continuing to read, study, offer Bible seminars and the like, makes getting there not just half the fun, but all the fun. Plus, while at seminary full time I also taught courses at UWestFlorida, and worked my consulting business full time, traveling and enjoying - - WashDC, Sydney, SFran, Seattle, Maine and Connecticut, et al. When I got to Trinity Apalachicola, my bishop put me on all the diocesan committees that I could stand, apparently qyalifying me to “rise” in the diocese: I finally told him I was tired of driving from Apalachicola to Mobile and Pensacola for fifteen minute committee meetings, please “take me off.” He did so and later when someone asked him something about Tom Weller, the bishop said, “Tom’s retired.” And so I was. Retired into life in Apalachicola EfElAy at the end of the Eastern Sea just where it drops off into Aslan’s Country. I still go East now and then and am never quite absolutely sure that I'm coming back.

A goal: I don’t have a goal, just living along and loving life as the ultimately profane priest here in 7H. As for FaceBook, they can stuff if, I’m done. I may keep trying to make the daily post, if it “takes,” fine. If it doesn’t “take,” super-fine.

As for pausing to go back and correct everytime my right index finger types a y when I meant the stinking stupid little rebel to type a u, life’s too short for going back and correcting absurdities.


Pic: Thanksgiving Day Sunset from 7H

And sure enough, I tried and it wouldn't post to FB again just now, so the hell with FB.


DThos+