Looking at the bright light on the horizon, your first thought was: well, that’s it then. Nuclear war. Sydney’s gone.

I have neglected my algebra and watercolors and learned that I don’t like beans. Jeremy came off his bike on Inauguration Day and exploded his ACL, so it’ll be August before we go riding again. But my new foundation of tragic hope has proved surprisingly durable. I found a gay church and a gay gym because it turned out what I really need at the end of the world is strength and (gay) Jesus.

The City, the locals call it, as if it’s the only one.

Whatever we think of the historicity of the orthodox account, we can admire its ingenuity. For this theory—that all authority derives from certain apostles’ experience of the resurrected Christ, an experience now closed forever—bears enormous implications for the political structure of the community.