De cetero, fratres, gaudete

Oh Yes 1-4

Guerrieri: Oh, Yes! (2014) (PDF, 218 Kb)

Guerrieri: From Proverbs (2015) (PDF, 56 Kb)

Guerrieri: My God! Permit My Tongue (2017) (PDF, 42 Kb)

The Presbyterian Church in Sudbury, the place that provides me with much of my gainful employment, is in the midst of searching for a new permanent pastor, which, within Presbyterian polity, is a deliberately long and painstaking process. It does, however, provide the opportunity for temporary and interim pastors to pass through and leave their mark, and, in that regard, we’ve been pretty lucky.

Intending to post the introit that was a parting gift to our most recent interim pastor, I realized that I had never posted the introit paying tribute to the previous one, nor, even, the anthem that was written as a farewell to our former permanent pastor—inexplicable indolences that I am happy to now rectify. Bill McIvor, Carolyn Browning Helsel, Rick Otty: it’s been a distinct and genuine pleasure working with you.

Ti (r)ingrazio

One of my favorite linguistic indulgences as a reader and a writer is what I think of as “found Beckett”—Beckettismes trouvés, even better—those little commonplaces that, under the very slightest hermeneutical pressure, collapse into whirlpools of comically, despairingly elusive meaning. Take that old favorite, “thanks but no thanks.” I mean, even at face value, it’s like some sort of ill-formed Boolean algebra:


—an unsettled judgement, yanking the rug out from under any possibility of an objectivist conception of language. Or maybe it’s a reminder that, suitably intensified, gratitude can tip over into micro-aggression:

thanks, but no, THANKS

Push it further, and it becomes pure self-negation, a matter-antimatter collision leaving only meaninglessness in its wake:

thanks but no thanks

—and suddenly the abyss is staring back at you, and returning your submitted materials under separate cover.

At any rate, in celebration of the bumper crop of thanks-but-no-thanks that has been the last eighteen months of my professional life, here’s a deceptively dangerous little tiki-drink riff. It’s rather good (WARNING: Beckettisme trouvé approaching) if I do say so myself.

mercilessF’ing the Merciless

1.75 oz amber rum
1 oz lime juice
0.5 oz peach liqueur
0.5 oz orgeat
0.25 oz dry gin

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled glass. (Or, alternately, strain into a tall glass filled with ice and top off with seltzer.)