Yes, there's SEO and all that, and this is a blog post after all. But I'm much more interested in making eye contact with the person at the bus stop. So, whatever.

The unfolding of Chapter Seventeen's architecture and approach feels compelling. I’m thinking aloud here about potential areas of research.

Anguish and tuxedos. As if they make sense together. (Horrible.)

When I got a new mobile router, I was staring at Spicy Ginger Biscuits. The whole thing got me started on memories of 1980s Olympic-style evangelism. That's technology for you.

I'm thinking aloud about Chapter Seventeen, but you're welcome to listen or read, climb in or create, write or study, collaborate or unplug — and carry on doing all the same things in the real world…

Yes, I know it looks like what I'm doing here is creating a website. After all, I'm creating a website. But don't misunderstand me. The website isn't really the point.

Taking something or someone seriously means not hoovering in front of the football, and saving their drafts from the bin. And other things I've learned.

What in the world…? The Stage Door was only the beginning. There's an unfolding rabbit warren of possibilities by the look of it. According to the Keyholder, he doesn't know, and you'll need to see the Architect. But no one's seen the Architect.

My website looks quite standard until that menu item — Stage Door. It's what happens with a literary imagination birthed in Bible and Bagpuss.

Am I alone in finding everything I encounter brings up a thousand other things? Now apply that to reading the Bible. I know.

The Stage Door menu item. What's it doing on this author's website? It could be a rabbit hole…

There seems to be a Stage Door lurking in the menu bar. Where's the Keyholder when you need them?

We use words all the time, and sometimes because they just come out. Is that okay for poetry? For prayer? For other people?