Svithe generis


I have so many ideas and so little desire to write any of them just now. Thus they wait.

But what to svithe instead?

I'm trying to think what the quintessential thericonian svithe might look like.

Plain platitudes?

Strange and fevered similes?

Random quotations vaguely spiritual?

What I hope the quintessence of a thericonian svithe to be is love: love for deity, love for you. I also fear that the quintessence of a thericonian svithe is love--or, perhaps more accurately, self-congratulation.

The risk of being visibly religious of course is becoming proud. Ask any little-p pharisee.

I don't know how one avoids this. And I don't think it is possible to avoid the appearance of such. Note all the former Mormons who complain about General Authority grandstanding. Some of them no doubt have. Some are utterly incapable. All are judged guilty.

So doing it for people is bound for misinterpretation. Or, when I write something like this, nearly impossible to interpret at all.

So all I can hope is that God will accept my offering. And for someone as purely self-centered as me, that is a pretty good aim indeed.

last week's svithe


  1. Well, I don't feel especially loved since you recently disavowed me, and this post isn't feeling very loved, either, since nobody commented on it, so I figured I'd post a comment, just so it didn't have to be lonely anymore.

  2. Go me! I made a hyperlink work!

  3. And now this post has three comments, so it is no longer in last place.

    Feel the love, little svithe; feel the love!

  4. .

    I do, I do. It does, it does.