Meanwhile, back at the ranch
My apologies for being so quiet.
I’ve had a difficult few months, here, a few months where my own troubles were weighing me down and other people kept lending me theirs right at the moment I needed someone to help me out of the hole. For awhile, I quit talking to people all together, thinking that to talk to someone who was doing okay I’d have to pretend to be okay and that actually I had nothing to say, and that to talk to someone who wasn’t doing okay would break me.
I’m sorry about that. I should have more faith in my friends. Sometimes life is like being kicked and beaten to death while curled up in the fetal position and realizing that, actually, it’s not that bad and more than a bit funny.
I’m okay now. I wouldn’t be saying this now if I weren’t. And I’m back. Call me or something.
News that’s fit to print (for now): I wrote a piece on prayer for Jeremy Huggin’s project that’s supposed to be published next I dunno if it’ll be available online. My priest here in Philly, Fr. Paul Hewett, was made a bishop. My bishop back home – Victoria’s Bp. Peter Wilkinson – was appointed Metropolitan of the Anglican Catholic Church of Canada (where I’m a member). Both men have been incredible to me and for me. I spent my second Christmas away from home, but it was Thanksgiving that got to me. My brother wasn’t able to make it down for Christmas, though I saw him for a few days before Thanksgiving. He spent Christmas Eve in an all-night dollar poker game. Bethany Boyd and I have been trading phone messages and she and Stephen Slater are getting married in September. I saw Luke, but it was just for an hour. I need to take a trip along the southeastern seaboard sometime – to see Ivan and Mel, meet Amy, meet the Silliman cousin’s I’ve never met and see my grandfather’s grave. I’m going to see Tim Eaton in Landcaster some day in the next few weeks. Daniel Stoddart and I have been hanging out and he likes to introduce me by mentioning my article on the New York Intellectuals and that Fr. Nehaus called me provocative. My youngest brother, Peter, said his first sentence, which was “I know.” My sister’s probably going to spend a year in Austria. Derrida’s Dissemination is blowing my mind. I’m only 75 pages into Something for Nothing but I’m reminded that even though I’m really interested in cultural studies, the writing’s god-awful and they never understand enough philosophy or theology to ask really interesting questions. I flipped through Ancient-Future Faith and The New Faithful the other day and both look interesting but with serious problems. I was looking through some past writing the other night and decided my thinking and writing’s been centered around four themes/areas: myth, incarnation, doubt, and anti-fascism. I’ll have to explain that, especially the anti-fascism.