October 2, 2016

The bishop’s installation was dignified, festive, and took its ample time. I like the new bishop. He looked young and fragile kneeling before the old bishops in their red and gold. Favorable premonition.

Asheville Pride was merry and brilliantly lit. We always have problems with the sound system, and the actual performance is always a disappointment, but there we were, steadfast, and it was good to see so many colorful people having a colorful good time.  We are always “top-heavy,” in that the tenors have an unerring instinct for how to get the mics into their mouths, and the basses do not.

Abundant and weird dreams. My dream self is heterosexual, I think, for several of the dreams–rather extended ones– were about making love to women. I critiqued this in the dream, thinking “this isn’t like me,” but I didn’t stop.

Fussing with my Budapest reservations. I am going First Class. Did I pay for that, or did it just happen? In any case, it is well with my soul.

Evening: We seated the bishop this morning in his cathedra, in his cathedral. It was an unexpectedly moving event. I cannot sing “Saint Patrick’s Breastplate,” for it is to me a more perfect credo, and I am moved to tears, and it takes a better man than I to sing through tears.