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crookedfingers
August 19th, 2018 
It is 8:51 AM Sunday morning here in west Michigan. Outside this morning there is a death fog. The earth is covered with a thin death mist.

Carol left this morning to get more Sunday newspapers and go to a prayer meeting at her place of worship. After the prayer meeting there will be regular worship service (organized religion). Can worship be organized? Do we need sacred rituals in this secular age?

Carol and I both got up around 7 o'clock AM this morning. I made a pot of coffee and then messed with our main computer. After messing with our main computer I wrote in my paper diary. After writing down my existence I got out to read, 'The Devil's Redemption: A New History And Interpretation Of Christian Universalism' by Michael J. McClymond.

I have no plans for the day ahead of me. The last couple of days I have felt dread. I keep having this feeling that something horrible is going to happen. A sense of foreboding weighs on me lately.

Last night I watched television with my wife and after she went to bed I read late into the night, 'The Devil's Redemption' by McClymond. Now it is another day to fear the approach of death. But for all those in saving union with the Risen King of Glory death is a blessing. Christians when they die go to be with the Lord forever.

I will close since I feel myself fading out.


I'm a Stumbledown Romancer, I never made the grade,
Never on the dance floor, when the music played,
Always moving on, when I should have stayed,
And I never had a love of my own.

Stumbledown Romancer, I dearly loved the stage,
I saw my name once, on the printed page,
And somebody called me, a Rock & Roll sage,
But I never had a love of my own.

And it's hard to be free, with a late affair,
Puts the moon in her eyes, the stars in the air,
But I'll never be happy, with a fire side chair,
That's a hard price to pay, It can hold me that way.

(16 bar organ)

Nothing I can do about it, there's nothing I can change,
Guess there's nothing new about it, always been the same,
The tears come and they go, but the blues still remain,
That's a hard price to pay, it's a hard price to pay.

Stumbledown Romancer, I never made the grade,
Never on the dance floor, when the music played,
Always moving on, and I should have stayed,
But I never had a love of my own,
And I never had a love of my own,
I never had a love of my own,
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