hm. yes.

My Friend Mourns on a Coach

2011-02-06T21:03:00.000-08:00

the out of tune guitar
hums angrily
forced to sing
by an unloved hand
assisting to proclaim
the glories of the earth abroad
the honors of a name
that hurts my lips
to say right now
sitting next to those
sitting next to me
with their heavy
and their out of tune
and their loud
and their noise
and some say that.s the sound
of the saints and you.re
avant-garde

My First Rebellion

2011-02-03T06:58:00.000-08:00

i've started writing poetry again
because what else is there to do
when you hang out by yourself at night
which is a really stupid question
because there.s plenty of other
things to do

(let.s remain close to the ground my poet friend said
which is not really a possibility
when you.re writing poetry
but i say sure let.s )

it.s taken me a year and a half to get
used to humble origins and my core
which has never changed despite
the many layers i.ve gained through
friendship and environment changes

when you dig deep into the layered self
the blood runs thick
when you reach the other side
theoretically because it.s not really a possibility
without serious damage to the self
you find that there.s no center and
are able to say with confidence everything is a layer
without sounding heavy handed
except when you say it to other people or in a poem

layers are a good thing
some people pay for them
and many of us put them on when it.s cold
good art has many layers
and this is not good art
this is a lazy diary entry
this is a letter to a friend

poetry was my first rebellion
from grammar and rules
against institution and structure
love of the common people
was half of a band name
whole of people i love
and the words of a tattoo i will get one day

my last rebellion
will hopefully not be a poem

My First Story

2010-08-21T23:51:00.000-07:00

A man woke up and realized something was wrong.

He talked it over with his best friend, and they came to the conclusion that the world and people were imperfect.

Upon finishing the conversation, the man said to his friend, "You know, Fred, if we solved this, we could make a lot of money"

Hymns

2010-08-20T08:04:00.000-07:00

"I'm not actually a Christian with a capital C. I'm still asking questions. But I had this time when I found myself singing all these old hymns in my kitchen and I couldn't work out why I was doing it. Then one Sunday morning I got up, looked at my watch, and thought, 'I wonder if I could make it to a church service?' It was so welcoming. It just felt like you were coming home. Twelve years later, I've never left."

-Stuart Murdoch

Can't get enough.

2010-08-16T20:38:00.000-07:00

This song is so damn good...

Inspired me to go look for news on the infamous rapper and, to my sweet surprise, discovered a live performance of one of his new song that samples Billy Joel's Movin' Out!

Bolano, you have revived literature for me, however briefly.

2010-08-10T22:39:00.000-07:00

"For a while, Criticism travels side by side with the Work, then Criticism vanishes and it's the Readers who keep pace. The journey may be long or short. Then the Readers die one by one and the Work continues on alone, although a new Criticism and new Readers gradually fall into step with it along its path. Then Criticism dies again and the Readers die again and the Work passes over a trail of bones on its journey toward solitude. To come near the work, to sail in her wake, is a sign of certain death, but new Criticism and new Readers approach her tirelessly and relentlessly and are devoured by time and speed. Finally the Work journeys irremediably alone in the Great Vastness. And one day the Work dies, as all things must die and come to an end: the Sun and the Earth and the Solar System and the Galaxy and the farthest reaches of man's memory. Everything that begins as comedy end as tragedy."

Gold from Robert Bolano's Savage Detectives.

'Hm, good point,' I thought from my comfortable coach in my safe, suburban home...

2010-07-30T21:12:00.000-07:00

"There are people who trust in the infectious power of nonviolence: sooner or later it will be crowned with success. In this belief, however, one can smell a bit too much of the sweet aroma of a suburban ideology, entertained often by people who are neither courageous nor honest enough to reflect on the implications of terror taking place right in the middle of their living rooms. The rood of nonviolence in the world of violence often leads to suffering: one can sometimes break the cycle of violence only at the price of one's life, as the example of Jesus demonstrates. If history is any guide, the prospects are good that nonviolence will fail to dislodge violence."

From Miroslav Volf's Exclusion & Embrace

Hope for Today -- The 1990s

2010-07-25T21:11:00.000-07:00

The vision: A roller skating ring complete with fluorescent DJ lighting, smoke machines and the clatter, insecure, we circled endlessly; the heat and the noise, every moment the end and the beginning, an endless inner ache for god-knows-what, the invisible current, the revelation of rhythm and love, my mouth open wide to exhale and swallow.

Yes, you, Jocelyn Enriquez, gave us hope.

Do You Miss Me (Music Video)

The Real McCoy

2010-07-19T20:37:00.000-07:00

My dream is to meet all my friends on a group video chat and dance to this song on repeat till we all pass out. As someone on youtube once said, "I met my wife @ a club dancing to this song." Amen, brother. The magic, the noise.

Exegesis of John Darnielle's Best Ever Death Metal Band out of Denton

2010-05-01T22:29:00.000-07:00

The best ever death metal band out of denton
were a couple of guys, who'd been friends since grade school.
One was named cyrus, and the other was Jeff,
and they practiced twice a week in Jeff's bedroom.

The best ever death metal band out of denton
never settled on a name, but the top three contenders,
after weeks of debate,were Satan's Fingers,
and The Killers, and the Hospital Bombers.

Jeff and Cyrus believed in their hearts they were headed
for stage lights and leer jets, and fortune and fame.
So in script that made prominent use of a pentagram,
they stenciled their drumheads and guitars with their names.

This was how Cyrus got sent to the school
where they told him he'd never be famous,
and this was why Jeff,
in the letters he'd write to his friend,
helped develop a plan to get even.
when you punish a person for dreaming his dream,
don't expect him to thank or forgive you.
the best ever death metal band out of denton
will in time both outpace and outlive you.
Hail satan, hail satan tonight. Hail satan, hail hail.

I'm touched every time I hear this song. In this simple tune, Darnielle manages to capture and preserve the elusive, hidden evil behind many modern tragedies, not a paranormal sightings of the mytho-symbolic Satan of the Christian tradition, but a Weight, the awful heaviness that arises after encounters with senseless and needless physical and psychological violence.

In this case, the absurd situation arises from tragic misunderstanding. Children, naively hailing the person/symbol of the 'Evil One,' act out maliciously in the name of the most infamous anti-hero of the West, attempting actualize and express their innermost vision and desire. They collide with adults, who, instead of engaging with the children on the human plane, where healthy unpacking and analysis of emotional ad psychological needs can happen, engage on the symbolic and esoteric plane. As a result the children are seen as possessed, abnormal, disturbed, and, perhaps, inhuman.

Presumably, the "plan to get even" refers to a plan to kill those who, by punishing them for their choice of symbols, traumatized the teens' internal constellation of emotions, desires and hopes. The exact fears of the community, projected onto the teens, is realized in the teen's reaction. As has been seen in the US, the results of such types of cases are, mildly put, tragic. The hidden groan of man in his powerlessness appears veiled—"Hail Satan".

Christmas reflection on the Virgin Mary

2009-12-19T13:26:00.000-08:00

My appreciation for Mary is slowly growing. Its difficult to overcome my inherent protestant fears of this mysterious figure of the Gospel, but the symbolic and spiritual weight of her character in the gospels I can no longer ignore. There are a number of views that seem to be particularly fruitful foci for understanding Mary in light of her uniqueness.

First, there is the view of Mary as mother of mankind, an angle which plays up her singularity as the mother of the Christ. It can not be denied that Mary is the vessel by which the first Man makes His way into the world; before this there existed only shadows of man, which were themselves shadows of Man. Strange and wonderful, then, is Mary, whose DNA was to provide source of the Messiah's genetic code (Though I'm not sure what I think of the historical credibility of the virgin birth, it is nonetheless interesting to speculate that Jesus' genetic code would be, if the virgin birth is factual, solely based on Mary's patterns. I wonder, then, how many times he heard, "you favor your mother" :)). What does it mean for Mary to be the mother of mankind? There are extreme positions: one makes this fact a justification for her apotheosis via religious ritual practices, the best example being the recitation of the Rosary, varying in spiritual significance from community to community, the other minimizes this fact to the point of nonexistence. What is a healthy understanding? Not sure, something to think about.

Second, there is the view of Mary as a unique physical symbol of the Christian's spiritual reality as well as a call to all mankind. This view of Mary I heard recently in a homily given during a catholic funeral for my great Aunt. It seemed new to me at the time, but upon reflection I realized I heard it before in the last verse of the traditional Christmas song, "O Little Town of Bethlehem," which begins,

"O little child of Bethlehem,
descend to us we pray,
cast out our sin and enter in,
be born in us today."

In these few lines we see articulated the perpetual rebirth of Jesus in the new Christian's heart. Mary was, in fact, the first Christian. She opened her womb to the Messiah, accepting, quite literally, the Christ. Interestingly, she does not accept this weight with a mere 'yes'. Rather, she says, "Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word." Her acceptance is in the form of a declaration that she is and will be a servant of the Living God. One might argue that the acceptance of Christ is much more complicated than a simple agreement to live as the servant of God, but I'm not convinced that it is anything more than that. Of course, there is the forgiveness of sins going on somewhere in the background, but, in essence, Jesus' gospel is a call to enter into the Kingdom of God as a servant, to have the will of God played out in one's life and to bring about the will of God in the lives of others. Thus, Mary's acceptance of the Messiah is a physical symbol of the spiritual event that takes place in a new Christian. Christ is born in the heart of a man or woman and then matures and grows in him or her till He bursts forth from them as light, love, and truth. Christ's birth and growing in a Christian is not parasitical, being a kind of possession or take-over, but rather synergistic, uniting God and man mysteriously resulting in the new, complete Man. Christ's explosion out of a person is seen in the self-actualization of the person and his or her highest expression of innate self for the benefit of others and the glory of God. Mary is the physical symbol for this event, but, in being so, she is also more. In the same way the story of those who have experienced this ultimate spiritual event serves as testimony and a call to others, so does Mary stand as a physical testimony and a call to all men and woman—will you too 'prepare Him room' in your heart and accept the call to enter into the Kingdom of God as a servant?

There are other views of Mary that are worth discussing, but that's all I have the energy to write about right now (Mary as a paranormal phenomena, Mary is a cultic object of worship, Mary as the goddess of Christianity, etc.). There are some great essays and works of art that make highly idiosyncratic symbolic uses of Mary that would be worth a look if you're interested and which have contributed to my growing interest in her as a figure. To name a few, the film director Godard, if I remember correctly, held her in high esteem, discussed her from time to time and made a movie about her; Octavio Paz has a great chapter in his book, El Laberinto de la Soledad [The Labyrinth of Solitude] , in which he discusses her role in Mexican Catholicism; Sion Sono's, a terrific Japanese director, recent film, Love Exposure, uses Mary as a central motif as well as various other Christian symbols throughout in fascinating ways; Chris Ofili's has a terrific Mary painting that caused a lot of controversy (seen above); Bresson's Journal d'un curé de campagne [Diary of a Country Priest] contains some great material as well.

P.S. In an increasingly visual age, my passions and loves feel more and more obsolete and shabby (the written word in its many forms and practices...). I want to write a eulogy in the form of a book to the recent passing of the Word to help me properly mourn.

I'm going to regret posting this later

2009-12-06T20:22:00.000-08:00

An Attempt to Tip the Scales
Bright Eyes

Did you expect it all to stop at the wave of your hand?
Like the sun's just gonna drop if it's night you demand.

Well, in the dark we're just air, so the house might dissolve.
But once we're gone, who's gonna care if we were ever here at all?

Well, summer's gonna come, it's gonna cloud our eyes again.
No need to focus when there's nothing that's worth seeing.

So we trade liquor for blood in an attempt to tip the scales.
I think you lost what you loved in that mess of details.
They seemed so important at the time
but now you can't even recall any of the names, faces, or lines.
It's more the feeling of it all.

Well, winter's gonna end, I'm gonna clean these veins again.
So close to dying that I finally can start living.

I listened to a lot of Bright Eyes my senior and junior year of high school. In college I more or less stopped because I got fed up with Connor Oberst's self-pity. Yesterday I found an old burned copy of Fevers and Mirrors in my bedroom cd caseand decided to give it a spin in the good ol' car stereo for old times sake. Expecting to be embarrassed that I had once listened to this album religiously, I played the first couple of tracks and to my surprise thoroughly enjoyed them.

I'm not sure whether to attribute this enjoyment to the simply explosion of pleasure that occurs when you re-encounter a old, loved object or person or to the intrinsic worth of the music itself. I'm leaning towards the former (Evidence: I recently listen to and enjoyed the early Offspring album, Smash). Oberst's music always gave me huge emotional highs in high school and much to my surprise it did once again today. I'm not sure why. It used to awaken my imagination and, almost magically, did so again today. In spite of his many flaws, Oberst can pen a decent song, whose primary strength are the communicate of an ineffable sense of, well, feeling. While that may seem stupid or trite, for INFPers like myself, its huge (Feeling is crack cocaine for an INFPer). Because O'berst songs avoid, for the most part, musical and lyrical predictability, they're good for multiple listens, faithfully giving heavy doses of emotional excess to hungry teenage souls.

The above song is from the second to last track on Fevers and Mirrors. I listened to it multiple times in the car today because I kept wanting to hear the lines "summer's gonna come..." and "winter's gonna end..." I want 'summer' to come cloud my eyes.

[if I were 18 again I could justify writing this post, being 23 makes this embarrassing)

If you decide to listen to this song, I would suggest not listening to the interview.

Sufjan Steven's "It's christmas! Let's be glad"

2009-11-30T15:01:00.000-08:00

FUN! :). Terrible quality, but such a yum song. Look for it on one of those free listen sites if you want to hear a better version.

Two Notes to the Below Song

2009-11-19T14:28:00.000-08:00

(1) Like most lyrics, these don't really hold up apart from the music -- their magic is in the way they are sung. SO, listen to the song, don't just read. (2) Music videos detract from the personal experience of songs, giving concrete imagery and associations to otherwise ambiguous lyrical content; while that's not necessarily a terrible thing, sometimes its nice to go for the pure encounter (in the below case, it's highly recommended).

:)

2009-11-19T13:35:00.000-08:00

On top of being a decent song, Grolandic Edit has some great lyrics:

(The surrealists were just) nihilists with good imaginations

I am satisfied hiding in our friend's apartment,
Only leaving once a day to buy some groceries;
Daylight, I'm so absent minded, nighttime meeting new anxieties.
So am I erasing myself? Hope I'm not erasing myself...

I guess it would be nice
to give my heart to a God
But which one, which one do I choose?
Oh the church is filled with losers, psycho or confused
I just want to hold the divine in mine and forget all of the beauty's wasted...

Pretty Terrific

2009-11-19T12:19:00.000-08:00

From my Google Reader feed:

Top 10 Bad Messages From Good Movies
Quality doesn’t generally come into play when it comes to messages in movies: There are plenty of bad movies whose messages are perfectly benign, and plenty of good movies that have messages you definitely wouldn’t want your kids to take to heart. Here is a countdown of the top ten bad messages in good (and at least somewhat geeky) movies.

I always wondered how they made this....

2009-11-18T19:55:00.000-08:00

I discovered a "making of" video for one of my favorite music videos of all time.

Here's the original in case you've never seen it:

Here's the "making of":

Christian Command and Conquer?

2009-10-29T11:34:00.000-07:00

I don't know how I missed this --- Left Behind: Eternal Forces. Released in 2006, LBEF is a RTS videogame based on the popular Left Behind book series. The game takes place in an imagined post-raptured world, loosely based upon controversial interpretations of the book of Revelation. In order to win the single-player mode, you, the leader of the christian remnant, have to convert as many neutrals as possible through evangelism and prayer and kill those who are militantly opposed to your mission -- that is, opinionated non-believers (which makes them, of course, part of the Antichrist's World order). hm. RED FLAG. Initially backing the project were the folks at Rick Warren's Purpose Driven Life company, but even they realized the awfulness of the idea and pulled out. But, unsurprisingly, Focus on the Family stayed on the straight and narrow, giving the game high praise upon its release. I only wished I would have known about this game in its heyday --- then, I could have bought my little brother a copy....

Here's the game's two trailers and a game play clips:
Trailer 1
Trailer 2 (much funnier)
Clip (the units are so positive!)

and here's a CNN news clip covering its controversial release:
CNN Clip

Finally, if you're still curious, check out the Wikipedia article:
Eternal Forces Article

(I try not to rag to hard on Christian media, but sometimes its just too easy....Don't get me wrong, the game isn't any more depraved or harmful than most games sold, but it is also no more useful as a "truth-teaching" tool than, let's say, Starcraft or Age of Empires, which is, let's face it, the subliminal claim of these types of "Christian" media to which Christians are often blind)

Excerpts from Kierkegaard's Practice in Christianity

2009-10-21T21:36:00.000-07:00

" Can One Come to Know something about Christ from History?

No. Why not? Because one cannot know anything at all about Christ; he is the pradox, the object of faith, exists only for faith. But all historical communication is the communication of knowledge; Consequently one can come to know nothing about Christ from history. For if one comes to know little or much or something about him, he is not the one he in truth is. Thus one comes to know something about him that is different from what he is. One comes to know nothing about him or one comes to know something incorrect about him--one is deceived. History makes Christ into someone else than he is in truth, and thus from history we come to know much about--Christ? No, not about Christ, for about him nothing can be known; he can only be believed." pg 26

" 'History, says faith, "has nothing at all to do with Jesus Christ; with regard to him we have only sacred history (which is qualitatively different from history in general), which relates the story of his life in the state of abasement, also that he claimed to be God. He is the paradox that history can never digest or convert into an ordinary syllogism. He is the same in his abasement as in his loftiness--but the eighteen hundred years, or if it came to be eighteen thousand years, has nothing at all to do with it. These brilliant results in world history, which almost convince even a professor of history that he was God, these brilliant results are certainly not his coming again in glory! But this is just about how one understands it; it shows again that Christ is made into a human being whose coming again in glory cannot be or become anything other than the result of his life in history--whereas Christ's coming again in glory is something entirely different from this, something that is to be believed. He abased himself and was wrapped in rags--he will come again in glory, but the brilliant results, especially on closer inspection, are too shabby a glory, in any case a totally incongruous glory that faith therefore never mentions when it speaks of his glory. He still exists only in his abasement, until he, something that is believed, comes again in glory. History may be an excellent branch of knowledge, but it must not become so conceited that it undertakes what the Father will do, to array Christ in glory, clothing him in the glittering trappings of results, as if this were the second coming. That in his abasement he was God, that he will come again in glory--this goes not a little beyond the understanding of history; this cannot be drawn from history, no matter how matchlessly one regards it, except through a matchless lack of dialectic.'

How strange, and then history is the very thing that people have wanted to use to demonstrate that Christ was God." pg 30-31

Commentary:

These two passages come from the first part of Practice in Christianity in (sections) b and c of the subsection, The Halt. Struck by their relevance to discussions on biblical history, I wanted to share a few thoughts. Although originally written as warnings against the dangers of pro-christian positivist/enlightenment theology, these passages also serve as warnings against those of modern strands of biblical criticism (specifically, the historical-critical method). Take the following passage, "These brilliant results in world history, which almost convince even a professor of history that he [Jesus] was God, these brilliant results are certainly not his coming again in glory!" Here, Kierkegaard is rebuking those who would prove Christ's divinity through history ( He insists that all they really do is prove the divinity of a distorted literary Christ with no actual existence -- his argument is actually quite compelling, too bad Lee Strobel never read it :) . Today, Kierkegaard's rebuke applies to a different group of people who claim the exact opposite: the "brilliant results in world history" -- devious 1st century apostles, powerful censors from Carathage, and inconsistent textual traditions - show clearly that Jesus was most definitely not God.

So, how does Kierkegaard's idea come into play? It is by his definition of knowing. Christ is not known in history, but in experience (which Kierkegaard equates with faith); He is not known in the past, but the present. Therefore, it doesn't matter whether history suggests Christ is or isn't God; history is past, Christ is present -- and it is only experience of what is present that can prove either way. Sounds stupid, but I think he's making a good point (and it serves as a good reminder). According to Christianity, Christ is not dead, but alive. Why is it then that the church so often insists that he can only be known through 2000 year old accounts of His life? Do we come to know much about anyone by their fingerprints (besides identities of criminals)? In the first half of Practice in Christianity , Kierkegaard drives this idea home again and again: Christ must be encountered as a contemporary, a present presence in this world and not a distant figure of history; history is always of secondary importance.

More specifically, of history, he states,

History may be an excellent branch of knowledge, but it must not become so conceited that it undertakes what the Father will do, to array Christ in glory, clothing him in the glittering trappings of results, as if this were the second coming.

Modern biblical scholarship is devoted to the task of uncovering Christianity and Judaism's human roots. Personally, like Kierkegaard, I find this task praise worthy. Its findings help to remove unnecessary theological complexities and reduce unhealthy emphases on the supernatural. But its useful work often come with unwanted baggage -- the uncovering of the great humanness of the bible covers over its equally present divinity via divine inspiration. As a result, we should render the above passage as, "but it [History] must not become so conceited that it undertakes what Satan seeks to do, to disrobe Christ on the cross, clothing him in the blood and glistening sweat of man, stripped of everything divine, as if this was his one and bitter end." I am in constant need of reminder that the Christ I encounter is not the Christ of history -- a weak ideological Christ trapped in the pages of an ancient text -- but a Christ of the Present and the Now, a Christ who continually reminds me to come, tired and burdened by sin and strife, and find rest. Biblical scholarship, whether it affirm or deny the divinity of Christ, should never replace the living and present Lord we worship with a dead and mythic historical conception.

Cheese

2009-10-19T17:30:00.000-07:00

"I have no doubt that in reality the future will be vastly more surprising than anything I can imagine. Now my own suspicion is that the Universe is not only queerer than we suppose, but queerer than we can suppose."
-J.B.S. Haldane

Today during an oddball dinner conversation with my mom and sister, my faith in reality's utter bizarreness strengthened. I learned, among other things, that Human Breast Cheese is produced as a commercial product in France (check it out here). As a resolute Terrencian, my heart warmed with this new revelation -- I am now more human.

Peace, be still

2009-10-17T12:14:00.000-07:00

The Scriptures in hand

beneath the spout of human knowledge,

I stand watching

The Holy Pages soak.

Till the words no longer speak

and a familiar asphyxiation takes hold.

When in a panic,

an image of a

BOY in a

Green and brown and trees

Kneeled before a

White tree and CROSS

becomes a New Word

The Chicken is My Youth, the Blood My Twenties

2009-10-12T20:29:00.000-07:00

I am a chicken, sin cabeza,
running 'round the lawn;
a fountain of blood bathes the children
who scream wildly
tossing my head back and forth
covered in October sunset.

Beautiful

2009-10-10T21:15:00.000-07:00

I rediscovered this song yesterday evening in my car within the stack of unmarked Memorax, 80 min CD-Rs. The whole album is worth a listen. A mixture of a sermon, personal testimony and powerful musical performance, its difficult not to be moved -- that's not to say there aren't duds on the record, a few of the songs I can't listen to for more than a minute. Nonetheless, the above song as well as Mystery of Iniquity and War in the Mind is undeniably powerful. Worth a look.

The Conquering Lion is incredibly simple - two couplets repeated over a single chord progression (C-F-Em-Dm) with slight rhythmic and melodic variations. What distinguishes the song is the passion and confidence with which its sung. If it wasn't for Lauryn's personal commentary found before and after the song on the record, one might view these characteristics is simply part of a good performance, but in the context of the record, these words are sung as a unashamed declaration - Hill believes what she is saying and is declaring it to the audience in a very direct, confrontational manner. Of course, its done in a good spirit, so, as far as I can tell, people aren't generally offended by it, which is interesting. I think they should be. If one really wants to encounter this song, an response to Hills declaration is necessary. Within the inner chambers of being, an emphatic Yes or No should arise. (Although, I suppose there is also the response of indifferent curiosity, "hm" or "huh").

Memories

2009-10-09T13:38:00.000-07:00

My sister's choir concert concluded with this piece. Brought back memories from High school, when we used to sing it. I remember really enjoying it. Not terribly complicated or obscure -- from what I gather from the youtube message boards, every high school choir in the south seems to have sung it at one time or another --, its played-out, simplicity does not detract from its beauty.

Home brings out the strongest feelings of consciously acknowledged disdain and pride. I noticed it yesterday sitting in my old high-school cafeteria, listening to my sister sing. Strong revulsion at the homeliness of my surroundings overtook me; the sight of a bunch of middle-class, country folk, watching their mediocre sons and daughters preform was too much. I felt indignation that God had placed me here again.

And what could I do? Those were my thoughts. I knew they were wrong, but I couldn't stop them. I felt ashamed, my base emotions and unconscious thoughts gave me away. Who am I anyway? Do I really think that just because I received an Ivy League education, I am no longer part of a broader humanity - one that my Ivy League personality spits upon, seeing it as homily, embarrassing and laughable? Similar emotions sweep over me at the audit classes. If the people in the room knew what I thought of them as they bumble over seemingly easy material, they would kick me out of the room.

I was not a genius in High School. There were other kids smarter than me, and I could admit without a problem. Now, after four years of elite education, I've forgotten myself. Ivy League education didn't make me smarter. Sure, I'm a bit more knowledgeable, a bit more refined, but that doesn't make me more intelligent. Part of me, a part I can't seem to access, a part that needs a good wake-the-hell-up kick in the ass, thinks going to Princeton made me genius. If anything, Princeton made me a fool. Life is a gift. Intelligence is a gift. Strength is a gift. Looks are a gift. They are not to be used to "lord" over others, but to serve them. Thus,

Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothin, taking the form of a servant, being born inth e likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself be becomeing obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

Many of these thoughts drifted through my head while watching my sister preform. The music was beautiful, and I realized I preferred high school choir's rendition of classic pieces because you hear a paradox: the beauty of the music shines forth in spite of and through the imperfect harmonies, faulty rhythm and unpolished voices as does the Glory of the Lord in each one of his children.

Today at the Record Store

2009-10-07T20:43:00.000-07:00

Every time I walk into a record, I start to feel uncomfortable, like I'm in the presence of someone with a terminal illness. Its simply depressing to watch these stores die. The shelves full of ~5x5 polygons, which once seemed worthy of my hard earned twenty dollar bills, now appear pathetic, almost like the sight of high priced handmade goods in street markets begging to be bargained down.

Now, I've had two distinct consumer soft-spots in my life - DVDs and CDs. I've forked out thousands of dollars accumulating hundreds of little, shiny discs and skimpy booklets. With the shift to digital, my goods have lost their value. Bummer. The internet is the new printing press, and the seemingly endless repercussions of this powerful invention terrify me.

The Everyman

2009-10-07T18:00:00.001-07:00

The young father knelt

beside his wife

who was dying of cancer

and prayed, "Lord, please heal her."

The Theologian

2009-10-07T13:48:00.000-07:00

While thinking on
A FUTURE,

ever elusive,

A REDEMPTION,

ever postponed,

A FULFILLMENT,

ever absent,

A LORD,
ever hidden,
A REDACTOR,
ever disguised,
A TRUTH,
ever plural,
the young man prayed,
HOLY GOD,
ever obscured,
HOLY AND STRONG,
ever secret,
HOLY AND MIGHTY,
ever invisible,
HAVE MERCY,
every helpless,
ON US,
ever confused.

Pale Fire Quote

2009-10-06T20:49:00.000-07:00

"I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
By the false azure in the windowpane;
I was the smudge of ashen fluff -- and I
Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky."

I first read these lines in high school, but they are still stuck in my brain. There's such an elegant simplicity here -- I've never been able to put my finger on it, but its power moves me. Unfortunately for anyone that reads these four lines here in this post, their effect will probably be lost. For some reason, the magic of the written word is reduced when found quoted online, especially in a blog, detached from the whole.

Genderless Poetry

2009-10-05T19:49:00.000-07:00

A down-on-your-luck moment,
it´ll pass,
just like the wheat
in fields becomes
Mrs. Barid's 100 percent
whole grain bread.

Blue sky blushes as wind sweeps across his face;
the psalmist said, "that´s you, buddy," in Hebrew,
and I took my friends word for it:
"its hard to translate things like that."

Quote

2009-10-03T19:23:00.000-07:00

"I bet a man invented the glass shower"
- my sis

Preface: Get Over Yourself; Reflection: The Miracle of Birth

2009-10-02T21:32:00.001-07:00

(Preface: I have a problem posting. I write something, then self-consciousness kicks in, and I file it away as a draft. Worse, sometimes I put it in a word document. It lengthens, usually to about 2500 words, and is left, forgotten.

So, Zach, what's the lesson here?

Don't take yourself so seriously. )

Two weeks ago, a couple [S&M] with whom I'm friends had a child. I visited them in the hospital the day after and was struck by two events. The first occurred upon seeing the child for the first time -- I felt my spirit swell with delight as when seeing a friend for the first time in months. I can't explain why. My emotional state on my way to the hospital was flat; I looked forward to seeing S, M and A, but didn't expect to be spiritually moved. So, yes, that was the first memorable moment. Lesson learned: the sight of a child awakens within the soul a "yes" to life -- my soul saw what was made and spoke, "it [she] is good".

The second notable moment happened later in the afternoon. When I'm at home, I spend most sunday evenings with S&M participating in their small house liturgy -- a fresh break from the mega-church service I attend in the morning. Since this afternoon happened to fall on a Sunday, we held liturgy in the hospital room; only this time, it was a special service: a ritual blessing for A. We, the grandparents, parents, relatives and visitors, about 12 in all, each read part of the blessing. Now, if you've gone to church dedication services before, this blessing might not seem particularly moving or interesting, but there was a uniqueness to it this moment. There was no place for spectacle, the necessary distance for 'pure' observation could not be found - everyone simply knew each other. Furthermore, there was no pomp or pretense. There was no church. There wasn't even a minister. There was only a small group of people, believing fully that the Christ stood in their midst, dwelt in their hearts, watched over the child and blessed him -- either embarrassing foolery or profound reality, the experience was memorable.

Lesson learned: Ritual Blessings (naming, included) have value; they play important parts in spiritual expression and are a derivative of the broader category of prayer and worship. Therefore, we should take them seriously.

Music Review

2009-09-16T07:32:00.000-07:00

Recently wrote a music review for the recent Sunset Rubdown album, Dragonslayer. If you're interested, you can find it here.

Three Things

2009-09-10T20:47:00.000-07:00

There are currently three things that frighten me, no more, no less, and they are the following:
1) China
2) The next ten years
3) God's displeasure

The relation of these three fears is minimal, although not negligible. That's all for now.

(Facts?) of Personal Interest

2009-09-09T22:14:00.000-07:00

[The information below was stolen directly from my professor's lecture; although it may read like I know a lot about the ancient Greek language and history, I don't. In fact, this information comprises about 90% of what I know about them. Nevertheless, I found it cool and wanted to share =)]

Today, I learned that of the many books in the New Testament the only 'sermon' like ones are 1 John and Hebrews. [I'm not sure if this is actually true; our Greek professor told the class the information. Feel free to correct me.] This was exciting news as my deep affection for 1 John and Hebrew, two of my favorite New Testament books, now makes sense - they were poet/academics!

Hebrews and 1 John's status as homiletic texts is not totally surprising given the distinct styles of these books compared to the rest of the new testament; nonetheless, it's still interesting to note that this status, at least in the case of 1 John, I learned, is not just just a product of style, but also structure - not only does John read like a homily, it is intentionally presented as such. In the John 1:1, we find at the end of a series of relative clauses, the phrase, περὶ του λύγου τῆς ζωῆς [transliteration: peri tou logou tes zoes; roughly, concerning the word of life]. Apparently, this typical, 1st century declaration was used in the introduction of all homiletic texts at the time. Writers would inform readers of the their topic by placing the main idea/subject directly after περὶ τοῦ. Thus, the writer of 1 John declares his main topic to be λύγου τῆς ζωῆς (the word of life) when he writes, περὶ τοῦ λύγου τῆς ζωῆς.

Now comes the really interesting question: what the heck does the writer mean by 'the word of life'?

J.S. Bach and His Partita No. 2 in D minor

2009-09-08T14:37:00.000-07:00

Ever since a friend played this piece earlier in the year, I have not been able to stop listening to it. Why is unclear, but that doesn't make the compulsion any less powerful; in fact, if anything, it is the very piece's mysterious quality that keeps me bound to it. Somehow, despite having played hundreds of times in my headphones, it continues to sound fresh, almost organic, as if the piece were secretly rearranging itself every time.

This is not insignificant. Why can only be explained by a personal confession of apostasy. It began in high school with an early falling out with 'main-stream, commercial' music. This disillusionment led me to embrace the redemptive message of the independent music movement, very popular at the time. 'Indie' music was, much to my dismay, a sham. When I discovered my messiah to be false, a regular Sabattai Zevi, I returned to the mundane, but occasionally beautiful world of pop music, a prodigal son, but also a broken man. I let radio music keep me alive - low nourishment, quick buzz hooks, beats that keep the body active, fending off decay and apathy. It wasn't much of existence, but I couldn't complain. Sure, I still kept tabs on indie music, but no longer a true believer, my curiosity was infused with a twisted disdain and loathing, which was, undoubtedly, unhealthy for my soul. Music had ceased to delight me. No longer did I believe in its powers; nor, I thought, would I ever again.

I was wrong. One day this past April (?), a saw a miracle, a Dirty Projector's concert. Suddenly, I felt again. Swept off my feet, elevated by the tight harmonies and strong rhythms, my soul awakened - but only for a moment, this was no reconversion experience; I was not shaken, only stirred. Then, around that same time, a friend preformed Bach's Partitat No.2 in D minor, and sweet music, once again, penetrated the depths of my hard heart; I almost repented there, on the spot - yet again, I resisted. Now, I continue to listen, testing this piece to see if it is a sham, waiting for the all-telling dull resentment and the hateful desensitization to once again arise. But, I wonder, could I be wrong?

A Few Details

2009-09-01T16:29:00.001-07:00

Today and Yesterday's Notable Events:

Worked out today for the first time in ages with my old man; the result: tired- and sore-ness. Got up at 5 p.m. to drive to Austin's highest 'mountain' and break my body.

Had my first day of class for two audit courses I'm taking at a local seminary (Ancient Greek and Hebrew). Courses are full of people 10-30 years my elder. The professor's are both PTS grads.

[My stance towards listing uninteresting details about daily life - previously unfavorable - may be shifting]

In other news, this video provided some laughs last week for my family and myself:

I don't really understand what William Shatner, or for that matter, the persons in charge of this event, was thinking. [<-- is it 'was' or 'were' there?] Anyhow, apparently it was a common error an aesthetic sensibilities at the time; As evidence, I present exhibit B:

Story I heard from a mother at dinner tonight.

2009-08-30T19:41:00.001-07:00

"We've been working with Connor's anger issues lately. He's still been throwing a lot of fits and beating up on his little brother, Paul. In fact, the other day he pushed him down the stairs. Frustrating, really. When Paul got back up his back was bleeding; I was pretty angry . I showed Connor and asked him, 'Do you like the way this makes you feel? Do you enjoy causing your brother pain?'. He looked at me for a second, contemplating*, and replied, 'No, it makes me feel like a loser'."

*The mother clarified: "He contemplated to the best of his ability as a six year old"

Paul Tillich and Forgetting

2009-08-27T21:25:00.000-07:00

I recently finished reading a collection of sermons and meditations by Paul Tillich found in a little book entitled, The Eternal Now. The preface to the book immediately caught my attention in its description of Tillich. Highly attuned to his times, Tillich was convinced that, "the core religious issue of the modern age is raised not, as it had been in past eras, by death or guilt but by all that threatens to make life meaningless" – understandably so, considering his service in the first world war. This makes Tillich particularly relevant for today as well. With the advent of video technology, instant communication, and the overabundance of information about the world, Christianity is stretched to its limits in attempts to explain reality; meaninglessness and the absurd are faith’s biggest opponents. Thus, Tillich’s incredible insight and delicate touch on difficult topics is refreshing. In this collection he discusses, among other things, loneliness and solitude; inequality; and the nature of language and man. If you get a chance, you should pick it up (Note: Some of his implied theology is problematic; most flagrant is a latent universalism that runs throughout).

The first collection of sermons centers on humanity and the complexities of being human, discerning the fears and desires of men with rare clarity. Within this section there is a particular mediation/sermon entitled, Forgetting and Being Forgotten, that offers an incredible description of repentance and forgiveness. Tillich, in a typical german manner, expounds extensively on the word, Forget, and its many derivates. In parsing out Paul's statement, "One thing I do, forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead", he determines there are at least three types of forgetting. He begins by pointing out that Paul never, in the literal sense, forgets his past – namely, his life as a Pharisee and his persecution of the church. And he is right. Directly before Paul’s statement about forgetting, Paul has written in great detail about his past (phil. 3:1-10). In other letters, such as 1 Timothy, we find more indications that he never truly ‘forgot’ his past. Thus, forgetting here must mean something else.

Tillich explains by expounding on three types of forgetting. First, there is natural forgetting: the unconscious process by which our brains let go of superfluous information (e.x. Last week's weather, the shirt color of a friend seen two days ago). Clearly, this is not what Paul means; his forgetting is active and not passive in nature; his forgetting requires effort, while natural forgetting is an unconscious process, like breathing.

Next, there is repression: the cutting off and suppression of unpleasant and painful memories. Never completely successful, repression has subtle, debilitating effects, marking in crippling ways, and failing to function at the most inopportune times. Paul cannot mean this type of forgetting either. The gospel offers freedom. There is no freedom in repression; one remains chained to the past. How can the experience of the 'up' in the upward call of Christ occur in someone chained to the past? There must be another type of forgetting. Therefore, he proposes a third type; I quote in length:

Then there is a forgetting, to which Paul witnesses, that liberates us not from the memory of past guilt but from the pain it brings. The grand old name for this kind of forgetting is repentance. Today, repentance is assoicated with a half-painful, half-voluptuous emotional concentration on one's guilt, and not with a liberating forgetfulness. But originally it meant a 'turning around', leaving behind the wrong way and turning towards the right. It means pushing the consciousness and pain of guilt into the past, not by repressing it, but by acknowledging it and receiving the word of acceptance in spite of it. If we are able to repent, we are able to forget, not because the forgotten act was unimportant and not because we repress what we cannot endure, but because we have acknowledged our guilt and can now live with it. For it is eternally forgotten. This was how Paul forgot what lay behind him, although it always remained with him.

Here lies one of the most beautiful descriptions of the new life promised to us by Jesus. In spite of our acknowledgement -an active and outward remembrance of our sinful past -, God receives us. This Yes finds its origin in the cross of Christ. And because of this Yes - a yes to our historical being, to our unerasable past - we are able to say yes to ourselves, able to forget the guilt and shame of the past. It is eternally pushed aside by the Christ’s death and resurrection. Hence, another Christian paradox: The believer’s sins are held peacefully as completely forgotten and remembered.

(PS: Thanks TK, if you ever see this, for the book)

Home

2009-08-19T19:07:00.000-07:00

"What do you fear," someone once asked me with a sharp grin.
I replied, "Hearing the old voices every morning when I wake up, seeing the same landscape every afternoon as I drive home, experiencing the past as present, forgetting the gains and loses of four years, and not minding any of it".

2x good news

2009-07-20T14:42:00.000-07:00

1) My boss lent me a guitar, a beat-up classical, but something to play nonetheless.
2) My order from amazon.de arrived. Three books by Karl Barth, Einführung in die evangelische Theologie, Dogmatik im Grundriß, and Der Römerbrief, a book by Franz Rosenzweig, Der Stern der Erlösung and one more by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the classic Gemeinsames Leben. When or how I will get through all these books are both questions without clear answers: someday, somehow. My justification for splurging: free shipping. Herr sei gnädig.

Poem on Andres Serrano's Piss Christ

2009-07-18T09:49:00.000-07:00

Piss Christ

If we did not know it was cow’s blood and urine,
if we did not know that Serrano had for weeks
hoarded his urine in a plastic vat,
if we did not know the cross was gimcrack plastic,
we would assume it was too beautiful.
We would assume it was the resurrection,
glory, Christ transformed to light by light
because the blood and urine burn like a halo,
and light, as always, light makes it beautiful.

We are born between the urine and the feces,
Augustine says, and so was Christ, if there was a Christ,
skidding into this world as we do
on a tide of blood and urine. Blood, feces, urine—
what the fallen world is made of, and what we make.
He peed, ejaculated, shat, wept, bled—
bled under Pontius Pilate, and I assume
the mutilated god, the criminal,
humiliated god, voided himself
on the cross and the blood and urine smeared his legs
and he ascended bodily unto heaven,
and on the third day he rose into glory, which
is what we see here, the Piss Christ in glowing blood:
the whole irreducible point of the faith,
God thrown in human waste, submerged and shining.

We have grown used to beauty without horror.

We have grown used to useless beauty.

- Andrew Hudgins

I want to be your business proposal!

2009-07-12T13:31:00.000-07:00

Today, I received an email with the above title. Who would have guessed that spam emails could have such poetic titles? Because the line was so perfect, I immediately turned it into the short ditty below.

Spam

I want to be your business proposal:

ask your friends

and family to sign;

tell them we look good,

on paper.

Movie Review

2009-07-10T12:05:00.000-07:00

Recently wrote a movie review for the korean film I'm a Cyborg, But that's Ok (Saibogujiman Kwenchana). If you're interested, you can find it here on Wunderkammer, a new online magazine dedicated to "thoughtful examination of culture and society".

Excerpt from Ray Bradbury's No Particular Night or Morning

2009-07-08T09:43:00.000-07:00

I read this short story sometime in middle school, a classic found in Bradbury's The Illustrated Man. If you're looking for excellent science-fiction, look no further. As I was glancing at pictures today on Facebook, this dialog came to mind. I thought I'd share it. Their words resonate with conversations that occurred during an overly-long Princeton graduation (the dialog, by the way, takes place on a spaceship).

“I can see it. I have a good memory."

“It’s not the same, you fool,” said Hitchcock suddenly. There was a touch of anger in his voice. “I mean see it. I’ve always been that way. When I’m in Boston, New York is dead. When I’m in New York, Boston is dead. When I don’t see a man for a day, he’s dead. When he comes walking down the street, my God, it’s a resurrection. I do a dance, almost, I’m so glad to see him. I used to, anyway. I don’t dance any more. I just look. And when the man walks off, he’s dead again.”

Clemens laughed. “It’s simply that your mind works on a primitive level. You can’t hold to things. You’ve got no imagination, Hitchcock old man. You’ve got to learn to hold on.”

“Why should I hold onto things I can’t use?” said Hitchcock, his eyes wide, still staring into space. “I’m practical. If Earth isn’t here for me to walk on, you want me to walk on a memory? That hurts. Memories, as my father once said, are porcupines. To hell with them! Stay away from them. They make you unhappy. They ruin your work. They make you cry.”

“I’m walking on Earth right now,” said Clemens, squinting to himself, blowing smoke.

“You’re kicking porcupines. Later in the day you won’t be able to eat lunch, and you’ll wonder why,” said Hitchcock in a dead voice. “And it’ll be because you’ve got a footful of quills aching in you. To hell with it! If I can’t drink it, pinch it, punch it, or lie on it, then I say drop it in the sun. I’m dead to Earth. It’s dead to me. There’s no one in New York weeping for me tonight. Shove New York. There isn’t any season here; winter and summer are gone. So is spring, and autumn. It isn’t any particular night or morning; it’s space and space. The only thing right now is you and me and this rocket ship. And the only thing I’m positive of is me. That’s all of it.”

Will Faust save me from grad school?

2009-07-06T15:56:00.001-07:00

Hab nun, ach! Philosophie,

Juristerei und Medizin

Und leider auch Theologie!

Durchaus studiert, mit heißem Bemühn.

Da steh ich nun, ich armer Tor!

Und bin so klug als wie zuvor;

Heiße Magister, heiße Doktor gar,

Und ziehe schon an die Zehen Jahr,

Herauf, herab und quer and krumm,

Meine Schüler and der Nase Herum -

Und sehe, dass wir nichts wissen können!

Great quote, I wonder though...

2009-07-05T15:47:00.000-07:00

Ich muss immer darin denken, was Lenin von der apassionata gesagt hat: "Ich kann sie nicht hören, sonst bringe ich nicht die Revolution zu Ende". Kann jemand, der diese Musik gehört hat -ich meine, wirklich gehört hat - noch ein schlechter Mensch sein.”

A cat is, above all, a furry animal.

2009-07-04T17:40:00.000-07:00

"Isn't ping-pong about giving and receiving? I don't think so! Must one always receive after giving? Can't there be a ping-pong where we only give?"

From I'm a Cyborg and that's Ok

Forgot how funny this movie is...worth a look, if you're bored, or it's raining.

Handel's Messiah

2009-07-02T23:39:00.000-07:00

Saturday, I attended a performance of the Messiah by a semi-professional, German choir. It was overall a great experience. Although, the tempo was occasionally rushed, the pronunciation a bit shaky, the chorus did an excellent job. As for the soloists, although the soprano and alto weren't particularly good, the bass and tenor more then made up for them - particularly the tenor with his youthful energy and memorable gestures.

The piece is not unfamiliar to me. When I was a sophomore in high school, my mom bought me the Sir Colin Davis two-disc recording. Why, I don't quite remember (I think she might have been singing it in her church choir and wanted me to hear it). I remember listening to it and being struck by the last section, the Amen chorus. Sometimes, on the way to school, I would put that particular track on and listen to it with the volume turned up. It gave me a huge buzz; I think it even made me cry a few times, potent stuff.

During my senior year, we performed parts of the Messiah for our giant, middle of the year concert; we hired soloists, orchestra, conductor - everything. It was not a particularly enjoyable experience and our performance was terrible, a risk always taken when performing difficult pieces. (On a side note, our most successful 'difficult' piece, and, in my opinion, the most enjoyable, was Faure's Requiem; a stirring funeral piece, I get chills just thinking about it). Yet, I believe, somehow, through the experience, Handel’s Messiah ingrained itself permanently in my brain.

So, as I said, the piece is not new to me. In fact, when I heard it on Saturday night, I was surprised by how much I not only recognized, but actually knew. Yet, in spite of all my knowing, something unexpected occurred during the concert: the piece I knew so well became transfigured. The notes hung suspended in the air, glimmering, their echoes of the cold, grey stone filled the room with light. During the course of the more than two hour concert, I reflected, literaly; the music shone down upon me and filled me with thoughts.

Here's one distinct 'reflection' I remember. It occurred to me during the section, "He trusted in God". The short section is a little over two minutes, depending on how it’s sung. There aren't to many words: "He trusted in God that He would deliver Him, let Him deliver Him, if he delight in Him". Throughout this short piece, these words are repeated over and over again. The four voice parts cascade over each other in typical Handle style, repeating and slightly modifying earlier motifs (a fugue, I believe), only to have all four voices come together at various, climatic moments.

While listening, an image came to mind - Jesus on his cross with onlookers saying those words: "He trusted in God that He would deliver him, let Him deliver him, if he delight in him". Not to anyone particular, they said it as a question to themselves, those around them too, and then, finally, to Jesus. And as the words repeated, I saw Jesus on his cross listening to them (in fact, I really did see Jesus – a giant stone Jesus hanging in the back of the church). And then, as the choir continued singing, I imagined him dying.

From this thought, I arrived at a memory. Two years ago, a friend passed away from Leukemia. During the time of her illness, people were in constant prayer for her. There were even fasts and 24-7 prayer chains. For a while, it looked like she was going to get better; there were even rumors that a prophetic women had 'seen' her recovery. Yet, despite these ‘signs’, things took a sudden turn for the worse and she passed away. As this memory came and passed, the choir continued singing.

As the song ended, I realized two things. First, everyone claiming to believe in the Christian God will hear this song as they go through inexplicable suffering: "she trusted in God the He would deliver her, let Him deliver her, if He delight in her" (or, perhaps, in substitute for the last clause, “if He exists”). Of course, these aren't necessarily malicious thoughts; they're perfectly natural. The implicit questions - some would call them accusations - are directed at both her, Christians in general, and God. Had she done wrong? Did she not trust in God? Had the Christians praying for her done wrong? Did they not trust in God? Did God do something wrong? Did God care? Was and is God there? There are others, more difficult and complex, but those seem to be the primary questions.

Are there answers? Yes, but only indirect and paradoxical, which lead me to my second realization. The only comfort during times of inexplicable suffering for a Chrsitian is to know that Jesus, the despised and rejected one, dwells within the sufferer and comforts them. If the sufferer dies, he enters fully into Christ’s death. Then, the question is asked once more, has God delivered them. If Jesus’ resurrection did happen, the question is paradoxically answered: yes and no. The life of Jesus was to suffer and die by the hand of man and God; the death of Jesus was the path to eternal life, peace and joy. The life of a Christian is to suffer and die with Chirst; but his death is the place of rebirth/ressurection through Jesus into eternal life, peace and joy, as a heir to the Kingdom of God.

A poem from 04/05/06

2009-07-02T14:50:00.000-07:00

Inununme

The navel undulates
Like a ship on throbbing water
The rage of my own tempest in her belly
Tensed as to birth a screaming world
Shaking the 57 sq foot cosmos in a white room

My love
She floats
On black linoleum sea tiles
Kicking like a horse
Her body sweating clouds
I watch her shrink as she spills
into the ocean all around her

The ceiling stars
Look down
Stationary and hard

I am a cloud
The sea beneath
the mist between

Post

2009-07-01T10:41:00.000-07:00

If you're lonely, send yourself an email. Then, at least, you'll know someone cares.

Musically Uninspired

2009-06-24T12:06:00.001-07:00

I'm going through a dry spell. Little has caught my ear for the past two years, and I'm wondering why. As far as I can tell, there are two root causes. The first, hormonal changes; the second, overexposure.

When nothing inspires you, it is hard to create. Maybe this is just an excuse, maybe not.

What am I doing in Germany?

2009-06-18T08:39:00.000-07:00

I used to write gefühl poetry, an excess not easily forgiven.

So, Lord, what seed am i now - you know
the parable, fear always arose when
i heard it because i knew
the two possibilities, and now,
with thorns on every side,
and one crawling up my leg,
i wonder, is it a
a ruler or a picture.

A poem by John Donne written during a near fatal illness:

2009-05-04T10:30:00.000-07:00

I read this poem in high school and it made a strong impression on my young, religious mind. Alongside two or three other religious poems by George Herbert and a few others by Donne, I periodically return to its words in reflection. Two years ago I sent the poem to a very sick friend who, unlike Donne, did not recover, which for me imbued the poem with a deeper significance. Today, I rediscovered the poem in an old document and decided to share it here. Its effect remains strong on my middle-aged, religious mind.

A Hymn to God the Father

Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,
For I have more.

ii.

Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two, but wallowed in a score?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,
For I have more.

iii.

I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore ;
But swear by Thyself, that at my death Thy Son
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore ;
And having done that, Thou hast done ;
I fear no more.

[ps: the typography of this poem is very aesthetically pleasing. it is unfortunate that blogger does not preserve it through cut and paste! Look here for a prettier version]

Yes.

2009-04-13T18:28:00.000-07:00

"the reality of my written work echoes the harsh reality of life: there is but one draft."
-SBG on 'The Thesis'

this quote means a lot to me right now considering the state of my own thesis and its immanent due date.

The Crucifixtion (1880, Thomas Eakins)

2009-04-10T14:16:00.001-07:00

I find this painting conveys the weight of the Crucifixion particularly well. "For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God". I'm not really even sure what that means, but when I imagine Jesus becoming sin, I see him shrouded in shadow. As God's face is too bright, Jesus' face on the cross is too dark - God himself turned His back, hence, 'Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani'. To look on Jesus in that moment is to look on death itself - a sight too terrible for men. Yet, this terrible sight is the site of redemption. To look upon him is to die with him and in doing so find life

Welcome to the Stalk Market

2009-04-10T01:33:00.001-07:00

My compulsion to read others blogs is getting out of control - help.

In other news, Ted Haggard has been on my radar ever since his disturbing behavior in the movie Jesus Camp; needless to say, I wasn't surprised when I heard about his scandal. Here's a video from before he was caught; can you feel that something's a little off? (btw. he was denounced by a male prostitute for having sex with him and doing crystal meth)

I was curious how this would turn out in the end. Peoples histories are case studies for the way life works; pay attention and you'll learn a lot. Anyway, today I found this (the whole interview can be found in five parts on youtube, but these guys did a good job at picking out two of the most interesting clips):

and than this,

All in all, I feel there's a lot to be learned from TH's story. If you have time, you should look at some of the other interviews on youtube.

2009-04-07T18:52:00.000-07:00

Contemplation of profane objects is a rich exercise - try it. Is it not true that Jesus' is most radiant as an object of derision, or that the cross is more at home in the bottom of a urinal, then in a ornate chapel? [I lifted these provocative pictures here]

Great Monologue

2009-04-07T18:43:00.000-07:00

"I was sheriff of this county when I was twenty-five years old. Hard to believe. My grandfather was a lawman; father too. Me and him was sheriffs at the same time; him up in Plano and me out here. I think he's pretty proud of that. I know I was. Some of the old time sheriffs never even wore a gun. A lotta folks find that hard to believe. Jim Scarborough'd never carry one; that's the younger Jim. Gaston Boykins wouldn't wear one up in Camanche County. I always liked to hear about the oldtimers. Never missed a chance to do so. You can't help but compare yourself against the oldtimers. Can't help but wonder how theyd've operated these times.

There was this boy I sent to the 'lectric chair at Huntsville Hill here a while back. My arrest and my testimony. He killt a fourteen-year-old girl. Papers said it was a crime of passion but he told me there wasn't any passion to it. Told me that he'd been planning to kill somebody for about as long as he could remember. Said that if they turned him out he'd do it again. Said he knew he was going to hell. "Be there in about fifteen minutes". I don't know what to make of that. I sure don't. The crime you see now, it's hard to even take its measure. It's not that I'm afraid of it. I always knew you had to be willing to die to even do this job. But, I don't want to push my chips forward and go out and meet something I don't understand. A man would have to put his soul at hazard. He'd have to say, "O.K., I'll be part of this world."

- Opening monologue of No Country for Old Men.

Didn't agree with everything, but a good reminder/exhortation

2009-04-05T21:34:00.000-07:00

unposted draft from 4/21/08 (no energy to write something new)

2009-04-04T08:57:00.001-07:00

"When grace descends, the world falls silent before it"

-Philip Yancey

Likewise, when grace descends upon me, a find myself speechless: neither are their words of excuse, a reception of grace is an admission of guilt, nor words of confesssion, all is known.

How hard it is to put to death that which is not of Him, but how much more wonderful to recieve that which is of Him. Lord, daily, but to death that which is not of You, and, in its place, build upon the foundation you have laid within me - Your son, crucified and buried, raised again to newness of life. How blessed are those that are built into a spiritual dwelling; we long for you to indwell us as a community.

Prayers

2009-04-01T21:45:00.000-07:00

Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris,
Qui tolis peccata mundi,
misere nobis.

dona nobis pacem.

Joke?

2009-03-17T15:24:00.000-07:00

So, David Lynch gives a talk at Berlin University advocating transcendental meditiaton, causing quite a ruckus. I thought the whole situation was a staged joke on the Berlin students. Unfortunately, it was not:

Yes, let's have an unbesiegbares Deutschland. I agree. Let's become invincible.

And then let's fly (also possible through TM):

http://www.yogicflyingclubs.org/yogic_flying.html

Yes we can.

Opps

2009-03-11T16:35:00.000-07:00

Today I realized that I've washed my hair with body wash the past two weeks.

Reflection on the movie Oasis

2009-03-07T20:40:00.001-08:00

Does God watch over those who live on the street, the mentally handicapped, the poor, and the severely disabled? Theoretically most Christians would answer in the affirmative - 'of course, God watches over all individuals, each person is precious to Him'. Yet, upon an encounter with one such 'everyman', our instinct is often to turn away or to fear.

Why? They are shameful to look at it, without dignity. They stumble on sidewalks, sit on street corners. They limp in the mall, moan uncontrollably, grope in broad daylight. They are poorly dressed with sunken eyes, stained teeth and messy hair. .

If they are painful to our senses, are they not also painful to God's? Are they also His children? Does he 'gladly give them all things'?

Christians readily believe that God does gladly give all things for those who 'love' God, those who look like them who are in the same socio-economic strata and have relatively the same education level. But what about those who are, whether it is verbalized or quietly thought, objectively, at least by society's standards, stupid, ugly, sputtering, dirty, hungry, without shelter or clothing...etc.

How uncomfortable we become when they - they, by the very word we create an infinite distance between their humanity and ours - walk into our worship services. We silence, keep them quite, send them back out with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a bottle of water, and a 'go in the peace and blessing of our Lord'. Or worse, we stare and smile uncomfortably.

Has God really 'numbered the hairs on their head'? Has He 'written their number of days in His book'? Does he really unequivocally 'work all things for the good of those who love Him'? Did He really come to 'declare the good news to the poor'? Has he stopped?

Yet, how terrible, we hear a secret: These, those without clothing, food, without shelter or in prison, are not only human, they are Christ himself.

The Beloved one is the wretched one. How terrible a truth. How terrible a sight. How cursed a man. Yet, we sing to Him in our ignorance of who He is - 'glory, power and honor be unto the lamb who reigns forever and ever' - the man, in jail; the women, on the street; the family, without food - Christ.

How terrible these words:

"Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me."

Yes, God does watch. His gaze burns through all pretension and division. We are them and they are us - our false distinctions collapse when He speaks and moves. Yet, God is more than a spectator. He has become us. We are Him and he is us. Humanity has become the divine and the divine, human. The Father reigns and watches, in love, over His many sons and daughters, in spite, yet also through those who are His. "God's dwelling place is with man", let us listen to his voice that we might love and serve Him in every man, women and child without distinction

Comic Relief

2009-03-06T12:19:00.000-08:00

Today, while working on my thesis in firestone, I received a troubling email:

From: Chenxin Jiang
Sent: Friday, March 6th, 2009 2:51 P.M.
Subject: Help! : (

Eric and I are stuck in carrel C-1-H-6. The door won't open. Please come help?

.....

I didn't see this email until 3:15 P.M. Needless to say, I was surprised. My heart raced as I ran down to the abyss of firestone - the C floor (C for chenxin: coincidence, perhaps not). To my great relief, by the time I found their carrel, a carrel which happens to be tucked away in a corner in the far east side of firestone, the door was opened. Apparently, they had freaked out after not know how to open the door to the carrel and sent me an email, after which they continued to try and eventually found a way out: a small teardrop-shaped lever, which when turned opened the door.

I'm not sure how long they actually thought they were trapped in the carrel - I should have asked. Regardless, I like to imagine that it was upwards of thirty minutes as that would be much funnier then only a five minute scare.

Reading

2009-02-18T18:37:00.000-08:00

The more I read the less I comprehend. The comprehension barrier is a product of two recent developments. First, I simply can no longer understand what I am reading. Each page with its forty to fifty sentences has become a pit of snakes – squirming, black snakes whose heads are indistinguishable from their tails. Staring at the tangle, I get the feeling that there is some horrible, elusive meaning, which I will never quite grasp within each page.

Second, I am being suffocated by words. After about twenty pages of reading, my throat constricts and a rush of nausea overwhelms me. Why? It could be a psychosomatic process linked by some secret conditioning to eye squinting. However, this seems highly unlikely. My most recent hypothesis is that these psychosomatic reactions are a product of a growing unconscious understanding of the essence of text. Given that this unconscious knowledge is producing these strange effects, it may be better that my growing knowledge of text remain unconscious. Thus, ultimately, the psychosomatic prevetion of any conscious knowledge of text is not such a bad thing.

Reflection

2008-12-28T10:33:00.000-08:00

Heard a song at Church today that I found meaningful. I read its words in light of my many failures and disappointments of the past 4 years, the grief and regret caused by their memory, the fear I feel towards the coming year and an imminent graduation.

Be Still, My Soul

Be still, my soul:
the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently
the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God
to order and provide;
In every change,
He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul:
thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways
leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul:
thy God doth undertake
To guide the future,
as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence
let nothing shake;
All now mysterious
shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul:
the waves and winds
still know His voice
Who ruled them
while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul:
when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened
in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know
His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe
thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul:
thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness
all He takes away.

Be still, my soul:
the hour is hastening on
When we shall be
forever with the Lord.
When disappointment,
grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot,
love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul:
when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed
we shall meet at last.

angry

2008-12-17T20:48:00.000-08:00

Max Weber's Ancient Judaism is the worst piece of writing I have read this entire year. Yet, in order to write a short, three page paper, I am not only forced to read it, but to squeeze the text for meaning. His rationalization of the bizarre stories found in the Jewish Bible are elaborate rereadings based out of psychology, sociology, and economics. Such rereadings might be interesting if his rereadings weren't so hard to stomach, challenging the mythic-bizarreness of the original texts with a new plain, naturalistic-bizarreness. His 'scientific' writing is about as believable as Sigmund Freud's.

I am convinced Max suffered from intellectual insecurity when he wrote this text; that, or he was a pompous asshole. Ancient Judaism is an extremely reader-unfriendly text. Perhaps it is the translation. I hope it is the translation. But, most likely, it is not. For one, Max feels the need to accompany every point he makes about Jewish society with three clarifying points taken from other societies, namely those of India and other Asiatic countries, which might be ok if his examples weren't incredibly obscure such that only a scholar would get them (!!!) WTF. I might understand if he was Indian or Chinese, BUT he was a freaking German.
THE END
back to my papers....
so many...
so behind...
help.

Welcome Sabbath, Yelodim, and Jack and Jill

2008-10-19T18:52:00.000-07:00

The following were taken from Mother Goose's Rhymes for Jewish Children (1945, 61 pgs)

Welcome Sabbath

I will dress up in my best,
For Sabbath comes just like a guest;
I will see the candels shine,
And will say the prayer for wine.
Welcome, Sabbath, welcome guest!
Welcome, Sabbath, day of rest!

--
Yelodim

This little Yeled said,
"I went to school."
This little Yeled said,
"I went to Shool."
This little Yeled said,
"I saw a Menorah."
This little Yeled said,
"I saw a Torah."
And this little Yeled said,
"Sholom, my dear Morah."

--
Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
To borrow some Charoses.
Jack fell down
And broke his crown,
So Jill drank his four Kosos.

Time

2008-10-06T05:17:00.000-07:00

When the future and the present become indistinct, the past offers no refuge except that of a mirage (a rainbow).

Dilema

2008-10-01T17:17:00.000-07:00

Todays leading philosophers recently posed a question likely to haunt generations for years to come, "Is Nintendo's Smash Brothers a complete and absolute waste of time and energy?" I for one believe there is no straightforward answer to such an inquiry . If all prejudices are put aside and only facts are considered, substantive conclusions are reduced to blind guesses. Our best hope for an answer lies in future research and analysis. Until then we can only wait expectantly.

Reminder

2008-07-21T17:37:00.000-07:00

"These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me..." - A dangerous condition that I too often relapse into.

Thoughts on Faith (I think. I might have strayed a little from my thesis)

2008-07-20T16:22:00.000-07:00

Christian Faith* , in the simplest sense of the word – i.e. faith that God is who He says He is, and that His promises, as given by and through Christ, are true - is repulsive. One cannot get around it. To do so would be dishonest. It is not then surprising that Jesus repeatedly tells his disciples that they, as he is and was, will be hated and rejected. Christians will always be the “fragrance” of Christ, but, as the Christian New Testament itself affirms, their fragrance – Christ’s fragrance – will be to many the fragrance of death.

But how is this so? How can the ‘odor’ be the smell of life to some and death to others? And why is the smell more often offensive than not?

The Christian New Testament gives us an explanation by using light imagery. Christ, “the light of the world”, came into the world. Previously, according to orthodox Christian teaching, man lived in darkness, lacking direct access to God and following the longings of his black heart. Now, since Light has shown upon man, and since light and dark can not coexist, one of two reactions must occur. Man is left with the choice of being destroyed, of having Christ shine down upon him, or he can flee, hoping to preserve his life, further into darkness.

Yet even for those who let Christ shine upon them, Christianity is at times offensive. In fact, I might go so far to suggest that anyone who has had contact with Christianity, both those who accept and reject it, have it one time or another been offended by it. The reason: it offends the self and insults our basic instincts, intuition, knowledge and wisdom.

Why is the self offended? My life experience, what little it may be, suggests to me that the self - man’s innermost parts containing his drives, desires and unconscious thoughts – hides itself from man. Because of this man is not only unaware of himself, but also can never become completely aware of himself. Is it any wonder that we only gain self-insight, often painful, through interactions with others? The other gives us access to ourselves. He or she is a verbal and physical mirror, reflecting and reacting to what we say and do. While others can help us to know our selves better, to hope to know our self completely is an impossibility.

Man has been search of his self throughout history. Countless theories and explanations have emerged but none has gained hegemony. The ancient Greek inscription, γνῶθι σεαυτόν (know thyself), haunts us. Once a challenge, it is now a cruel mockery of our many unsuccessful attempts. Religion failed to provide man with a satisfactory answer, so he turned to philosophy. Philosophy proved equally mute, so he turned to science which led to the eventual emergence of psychology. Psychology’s theories explaining the self are numerous and perhaps the most robust attempts at doing so. But, once again, psychology has proved not to offer man one, dominant explanation of the self, but a plurality of competing models that one can easily drown in.

One of the earliest branches of modern psychology was Freudian psychoanalysis. Coincidently, one of Freud’s main ideas was that part of man is hidden from himself by himself. In early Freudian texts, Freud proposes a model of the mind divided into three parts, the conscious, pre-conscious and the unconscious (the ‘first’ topological model which was later replaced by the id, ego and super-ego model). In this model, the conscious mind is a small portion of the brain which holds only our immediate mental life – perceptions, ideas, emotions, wishes, desires and memories. The pre-conscious mind holds all that is still easily accessed by the conscious mind, and the unconscious mind holds all that is purposely and instinctively withheld from the conscious mind. This ‘repressed’ metal life holds everything that it believes to be harmful to the individual – inappropriate desires, painful memories and emotions, harmful ideas, etc. While I do not personally agree with many of the premises of psychoanalysis, this one I find interesting and useful for this discussion.

Now, what does Christianity tell us? It says that we are sinners and that our beings are positioned in a state of rebellion towards God, both consciously and unconsciously. It tells us also that, because of this state of sin, we are condemned to death.

Thus, if Christianity is true, we see why man has failed to obtain self-knowledge. It is because such knowledge is death to the self; it is, as psychoanalysis suggested, highly dangerous and must be repressed, shoved into the dark corners of the mind, hidden from the outside world, sealed within us. We also see that, as a result of this ‘repression’, when confronted with its Truth, our deepest parts are offended. They are threatened and must die a humiliating death or fight till their last breath against the Truth that desires to root it out and destroy it.

Such a reality, if it is reality, is terrible and painful to accept. To believe it is to condemn oneself – every desire and action – as proceeding from a broken self. Such knowledge, if acquired and internalized, would lead to an infinite state of despair such that life is threatened. We would desire death because we would realize that death and destruction is the only humanly conceivable way of rectifying the situation, of cleansing our self of our self.

Christianity tells us that we are to die. It gives us what it claims is a mirror of the soul, and tells us, as the ancient Greeks did, Know Thyself. Our response, if we are able to believe the mirror is not a fun-house mirror, will be despair to the point of death. Yet, this is not the end. Immediately after, quite unbelievably, (this is the moment of offense to human intuition) Christ tells us that if we let our self be ‘crucified’ (our inner self, not our physical body), then we shall be raised up again in a new self. This additional statement appears absurd. By human logic, in light of what Christianity tells us, we deserve to die and it would be unfair for us to escape our punishment. Is it not better to heroically accept our judgment and let God strike us down? No, God demands the last scrap of our human dignity. It tells us that we must lay ourselves down at Christ’s feet in faith. We must believe that death is better than our current lives, that through death we find new life, and that our instincts and intuitions (including our highly valued logic), our knowledge and wisdom (however ancient and respected) are wrong. This is, in fact, to terrible for all of us – both the believer and the unbeliever – and what makes the Christian Faith, and those who swear by it, so easy to despise and hate.

*It is unfortunate that I must begin my essay with such a problematic term. Although, perhaps foolishly, I attempt to define Christian faith in the ‘simplest sense of the word’, my definition may very well be problematic for many. Faith, a topic discussed and debated for centuries, is by no means easy to define. Ironically, this does not exclude from it being something simple - something the most foolish man or women could grasp and practice.

Update (long overdue)

2008-06-28T09:52:00.001-07:00

Today, I realize that I only write when I'm procrastinating, emotionally traumatized or impassioned about one thing or another. So now that I'm writing, the question is, why. Which I am experiencing at this very moment?? Actually, the truth is, right now, none. Deciding that this is not a healthy way to go about writing, this post is in defiance of my usual habit. If I had to explain the origins of this blogpost, by 'had' I mean if there was a gun to my head , I would probably attribute it to the presence of emotional trauma.

Three days ago I arrived in Buenos Aires. Three days ago I realized I should not be in Buenos Aires. There are, coincidentally, three reasons for the later realization.
First, linguistically. Basic rule: In order to live and work in another country, you should be rather comfortable with the native language. Personal violation of basic rule: My spanish is, at best, a bucket with holes leaking out the meaning of everything I try to communicate.
Second, professionally. Basic rule: In order to help out with a Research project, you need to bring some experience and knowledge to the table. Personal violation of basic rule: My pre-research consisted, more or less, of a few days reading in the library.
Third, Stadtkenntnis [city knowledge; my own german neologism]. Basic rule: When traveling to a new city in a foreign country, make sure you know something about or someone in the city. Personal violation of basic rule: Buenos Aires is a city I know nothing about.

[end insight in to current situation here]

Nevertheless, I hope. I worked out a simple proof that trumps all the above reasons:

Simple proof: I am here. Therefore, at follows that I can't be anywhere else. Conclusion: If, we accept the proposition that God wills all things, and that His will is unchangeable and good, then, I must and should be here!

[the above is meant to be neither ironic or completely earnest]

God is good. He is, like always, providing, teaching, training, and rebuking.
I am, once again, reduced to living day by day.

Friday, I began work. My project is a dream-project. If I graduate, an important question by itself, and got a similar job with pay, delight would follow . Currently, there's only one problem preventing me from being in a constant state of bliss: My spanish sucks.
Why is the problematic? Here's one reason: my co-workers speak only spanish. Qualification: they speak only tornado spanish. Translation: they speak the fastest spanish I have ever, in my ganzes leben, heard. Other than that, it's not a problem. (Side note: O well, I did pray for my spanish and german to improve significantly this summer. Here's a perfect opportunity.)

In other news:

Germany.
yes! great trip. I should have blogged about it. But, I didn't. SO, by proof once again, I shouldn't have blogged about it: I didn't blog about it. Therefore, it follows, if we accept as a proposition God's unchangeable and good will, that I couldn't and shouldn't have blogged about it.

Highpoint: Unsure. The whole trip: a beautiful erlebnis [experience].
New friends = plus one; Visiting E. for the first time = plus one; Improving my german = plus one; etc.....plus count = ~200

Last night I watched Winter's Light by Ingmar Bergman - a provoking film to say the least. Overtly religious in theme, this film, along with a few of his others, is unique among films in that it centers on the exploration of explicit theological questions and is successful. Polyphonic in treatment of it's question- thanks to Tsheko for this useful word- it refuses to champion a single vision of reality. but, rather, allows its questions to be addressed by a plurality of effective voices. While watching the film, I jotted down some notes which I was going to include at the end of this post. I now realize that they require a bit of expansion to make them post-worthy and it seems like to much work. Perhaps later.

One thought: Christ on the cross is disgusting. He is a truly terrible sight; Foolishness and idiocracy embodied. An offense to human reason and thought. He does not hang is a hero, but a criminal. He does not occupy a condescending place above us, but a despicable place next to us. He is dying with humanity. He takes on our sin. At that moment he is no longer separate from us. He becomes sin: repulsive and dreadful. And dies.
Here is our comfort and hope.

Scripture on the same idea:
"For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe.... But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God" I Corinthians

Ok. that's all for now. Best. love. peace. joy.

Bent Spoon

2008-05-11T12:00:00.000-07:00

Today, I ate sorbet at bent spoon. I ordered a small with a scoop of Dark Chocolate and Grapefruit; the first spoonful produced a surprising oral sensation - strong sourness combined with a dark sweetness. Upon finishing my sorbet I realized that the identical sensation experienced by my taste buds had been experienced by my eyes while watching this film. Enjoy.

Desire

2008-05-05T19:39:00.000-07:00

I came across this particularly interesting song last christmas and have decided to share it. My hypothesis: this song contains within it the mystical power to induce the feeling of Saudade: a portugese word for the nostalgic longing for a lost loved object. (Latent within it is a repressed knowledge or belief that the missed object is lost forever; the present is rejected in favor of a distant past or an empty future)

Let us be wary: we must be cognizant of music's power to conjure up the strongest of emotions.

Enjoy!

In other news: The Library of Congress posted a catalog of Hitler's private collection of art. It is, surprisngly, boring.
http://memory.loc.gov/phpdata/pageturner.php?type=&agg=ppmsca&item=18496&turnType=byImage&seq=1

And His Kingdom Will Have no End

2008-03-30T20:51:00.000-07:00

I learned in Mass today that the Easter season is a 50 day period of celebration, which stands in striking contrast to my past celebrations of it. Before I experienced it as the day of the Risen Lord; now, I realize that this is only the beginning--a quite surprising and awesome beginning--and that the days that follow are worthy of contemplation as well [days leading up to Pentecost]. These are the days where Christ began the great work of building his kingdom and church on the earth through the apostles, a period leading up to the great outpouring of God's power as he gives the Holy Spirit to the disciples and those who recieve the message of the Gospel.

Today at work I heard a funny story about Sergei Rachmaninoff, the famous Russian composer, from my boss. He said he had heard it from an old women when he had been younger. I will do my best to relate the second second hand story of the old women's story:

Apparently when she was a young girl/women, she went to Russia to hear Rachmaninoff perform. During the performance of one his more well known pieces, in the middle of playing it, he lost his way. Instead of stopping, he continued to play, improvising for a number of minutes until he found his way back into the piece, and, from there, played it to completion. Upon finishing, he slammed his hands down on the keyboard, threw back his head, and let out a laugh. Being a man known for his struggles with melancohia and depression, such an action was quite striking. A number of music students who knew his music well were sitting in the front row. Immediatly after he finished, fully aware of what had just happened, they all stood up and applauded furiously.
the end

I'm not sure why I found this story so interesting; regardless, I decided to write it down rather then forget it. I hope the magic contained within the verbal telling is contained in my transcription of it.

Fragments

2008-03-30T16:04:00.001-07:00

I've written 4 or 5 posts that, upon completion of each, for some reason or another, I am not able to publish. Ah. sigh.

anyway,

I am learning that laziness or idleness, at least inasmuch as I experience it, is the breeding ground for many terrible practices and ideas.

here's a quote that I had made the mistake of commenting on in one of the aforementeioned invisible posts:

We can not find the Cross of Jesus if we shrink from going to the place where it is to be found, namely, the public death of the sinner. And we refuse to bear the Cross when we are ashamed to take upon ourselves the shameful death of the sinner in confession.

-Dietrich Bonhoeffer

I found it very profound. If I had included my commentary, it would become less so, perhaps even trite.

Also, A good friend shared a quote taken from a foreign seminary students paper that he had been proofreading, which I found to be quite amusing:

God brought salivation to the world through Jesus Christ

I am once again struck by the ease by which the sacred is turned into the sacrilegious [the profound into the profane]. Perhaps the line is thinner then we think, one might even question its existence all together.

The Desert

2008-03-25T19:21:00.000-07:00

It is at the time we grasp our cross and bend down to lift and carry it that the devil comes and proclaims, "Behold, the kingdoms of the world and their wealth; bow down to me and you may taste their riches".

The Dialectic of Wealth

2008-01-04T10:13:00.000-08:00

live extravangantly,

die poor.

(jk)

live poor,

die extravangantly.

(jk)

age well,

die in peace.

2

2007-12-17T18:28:00.001-08:00

Coloring,
like
speaking,
is a messy buisness.

Drawing,
like
walking,
is not about straight lines.

2007-08-30T16:22:00.000-07:00

hm, this is a test.