DIARY
It’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything substantial.
On Fat Tuesday, I worked on Urbàntasm in the evening, then went drinking at Jimmy’s. Phase Nine of Debauchery (where one through eight went is anyone’s guess).
Quite a crowd showed up:
Jess was there, of course, and Matt (who’s running for the Maine State Legislature on the Green ticket), and Laura (who roleplays with us). We were later joined by Joe, Kaury, Dan, and Ben… scav. hunt judges, who had been there the whole time, but whom we had missed, because they were in another room. And Gemma, and Sarah, who were working on their Dylan Thomas play Under Milkwood.
There were other people too, but I can’t remember well, because it was 10 days ago, and there were three pitchers and shots of Wild Turkey involved.
On Ash Wednesday, I went to church at St. Maurice, which is only a five-minute walk from my apartment. It was my first time there, and very strange. The church was absolutely packed, crowded with huge families, standing room only. Boys and girls were punching their parents, crunching Doritos, and reading comic books. The priest delivered a beautiful and beautifully succinct homily that broke down to, “On Ash Wednesday you are recognized as a Christian because you wear ashes. For the rest of the year are you recognized as a Christian because of your behavior?”
At which point, everyone stood, received ashes, and went home. Most of the congregation didn’t even stay for communion.
Not to be grumpy about it, because I often dress informally, in jeans and T-shirt at church, and am occasionally late, but doesn’t going for ashes and not the message defeat the whole purpose. I had always understood it as the one will heighten the other.
More soon…