joe came last nite, picked me up from the hospital, ca 7 pm, and we drove d own the whitemud, to 99th, stopped at the diner, had fries, a burger, milkshake, and talked. he said latin grace, translated easily into english over the g ood, and talked about how when you try to kill yrself the long term demons of self destruction become banal little things (almost like the black dog, has stopped becoming a hound of baskerville and has started becoming a lab), he has a grace, joe, an intelligence, and a connection to the holy spirit, so talking to him, letting the conversation flows, even at night, in a diner w/o the collar, has a feeling of spiritual work, father confessor, spirtual direction, but rough and tumble, earthy non-office kind of flexibility. we talked about the gifts of the spirit, and the problems of gender , and sex--of the inability for either the right or the left to be flexible, and the femminist/gl blocks to be as gaurded of their own power as the consertives one. he makes me feel comfortable and calm about his frankly borgie life, of the kids, the house, the wife staying home, which is kind of a miracle, and i feel like i can open immediately, that our conversations move quickly and seamlessly, over plath, augustine, church politics, the holy spirit, soul music, toronto, and other things--laughing, making improper jokes, and serious asides. my concerns about who i am, maintaining personae and personhood next to him disappear, into a great calm.

hes awesome!
(he's reading this too, so its going to be mildly embarrassing when he finally comments)