an intermission, or, exile and return (one wants to spin one’s life as positively as possible.


after an ambitious start in trying to understand what’s happening, studying the japanese adjustments to entering the world of foreigners and germany’s attempts to come to grips with the age of electricity, i wimped out. faced with my unspoken attraction to men, i joined the american dream. i married a beautiful wife. we had two beautiful children. golden retrievers. station wagons. organic gardens. the full catastrophe. twenty years of my life passed with my trying to be someone else.

finally, in 1988, i woke from the nightmare and resumed my life, this time in santa fe. the world had moved along as mcluhan had expected, and a new tribalism was emerging. nowhere was this more evident or accessabile, perhaps, than in the high desert of new mexico, and i claimed my niche in the neo-celtic camp. my ancesters about whom i knew the most were welsh, so it had some legitimacy. i formed the order of st. chad to make further explorations in the pre-gutenberg world that seemed to have much to offer the post-gutenberg world. i, with dozens of other new tribesmen,  painted myself blue and danced to drums in the thin cold desert air.

i had begun a journey that would take me deeper into a sort of replica celtic monasticism, a life described more fully in older blogs at and its links.  but of course i do not really live in seventh century britain.  my making not just peace with but rejoicing in the brave new world i was finding is the story of my return.


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