March 1, 2017

Lent. St. David’s Day. Long before light at the Racquet Club, where I stayed long enough after my circuit to joke with god-like Brent. Resolved to take as my Lenten discipline to curb my anger, especially my most secret anger. But I said to the Lord as I was driving home from the gym, “Only one of us is working on this relationship.”

Shrove Tuesday pancakes at All Souls last night. I had not had a pancake in thirty years. Made me think of my dad. Made me think of camping. Happy crowd in the parish hall.

Trump gives a big speech to which I could not listen, but about which I know from morning news commentary that he is being given credit for not whipping his dick out half way through, for not actually saying “nigger” or “wetback.” Set the mark low enough and people will praise you for not causing a disaster.

Tizzy over the wrong envelope at the Oscars. Really? That’s what we’ve got to worry about? Ten thousand people texting as they drive this morning put the world in greater peril.