I don't use my 'I don't know what else to do' laugh very often, but when Terry ended our three hour catch-up-and-be-renewed conversation with 'don't kill yourself, Hans', I couldn't stop laughing. I wanted to cry, it humbled me, it broke me that this brother would have to say something like that so quietly and with such earnestness. Who have I been to consider messing about with the gift given me? It was a revelatory talk. Refreshing, and easy, clean and open. three hours is a long time, and, on the other hand, not too much in the scheme of things. I look forward to racking up more hours (hopefully in person) or on the farm in Nebraska.
There's hope enough for us all.
4.28.2011
4.26.2011
On Tour
I'm writing to my heart and I keep tempering my words and route of discussion because I'm afraid I'll see I'm in pieces. And crazy. In crazy pieces.
4.21.2011
Unfocused and Pertinent
Different conversations with different people:
My stepsister has this thing where she sleeps with every guy she meets
Yeah, that's called Narcolepsy.
Haha. Yeah, having vivid dreams.
?? what??
when was the last time I saw you?
when we couldn't find booze.
When we sat in the dark?
yeah.
At the moment I'm facing worthlessness. I just encountered a picture from Prom - I'm handsomer than I thought I was. I don't know how to feel about being unconventional in my collarless black button-up I wore with a silver tie and Heart pin.
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150558809025475&set=t.171701041&type=1&theater
I know I had a good time; I do love dances. I just don't remember much. Of anything, really. A couple swaths of general. It's the details others recall that I rely on and live through. I'd love to have a past that I could smile on, but don't remember ever being happy or satisfied enough with myself to associate positive vibes with much. That's not to discredit a single thing that has made me myself, including friends, circumstances, schools, expenses, fights, shows, failures, and perceived failures.
I sat at the computer and thought 'esta abierto' - had to look up abierto - thought it was lips or something I would read into. Definitely means 'open'. literally took me by surprise - the eyebrow raise, quickened heart, and all.
I was just reading in the sunshine. I want to be me. I find I can.
I wrote the following somewhere like October of '10.
My stepsister has this thing where she sleeps with every guy she meets
Yeah, that's called Narcolepsy.
Haha. Yeah, having vivid dreams.
?? what??
when was the last time I saw you?
when we couldn't find booze.
When we sat in the dark?
yeah.
At the moment I'm facing worthlessness. I just encountered a picture from Prom - I'm handsomer than I thought I was. I don't know how to feel about being unconventional in my collarless black button-up I wore with a silver tie and Heart pin.
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150558809025475&set=t.171701041&type=1&theater
I know I had a good time; I do love dances. I just don't remember much. Of anything, really. A couple swaths of general. It's the details others recall that I rely on and live through. I'd love to have a past that I could smile on, but don't remember ever being happy or satisfied enough with myself to associate positive vibes with much. That's not to discredit a single thing that has made me myself, including friends, circumstances, schools, expenses, fights, shows, failures, and perceived failures.
I sat at the computer and thought 'esta abierto' - had to look up abierto - thought it was lips or something I would read into. Definitely means 'open'. literally took me by surprise - the eyebrow raise, quickened heart, and all.
I was just reading in the sunshine. I want to be me. I find I can.
I wrote the following somewhere like October of '10.
Why do all my writings start with 'I'm in danger'?
today I faced a devil
he told me Jesus will return
i told him Jesus already came
to ease all of my burn.
he smirked and said
your god is dead
and cried in mock disgrace-
i said "my god's alive well
you're looking at his face"
"Who am I? The Lord God Almighty. Who are you?"
"I'm like you, much the same. I watch for you and obtain the glimmers I see you have."
"Good, son. Keep watching - I've got something pretty spectacular for you."
I pronounce Chandalier 'shawn.DAHL.yay' and diabetes like the Greek Philosopher 'dee.A.bih.teez'
4.14.2011
I'm basically going bonkers for Skrillex's Scary Monster and Nice Sprites album.
that and
Royal Tailor: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fEzas-F_aKA
They're a gang of supercool guys who are just, like, woah. I guess I've never met a band before (?) so I could have been a little starstruck. Whatever, they're ultra talented and the concert was bangin'. The lead singer's name is Tauren (surely one of my future children's names) and he's got a voice that literally made me stop and stare. plus he dance real good. An admirable man, he, for several reasons. Their premier album comes out June 7, so . get it.
Today I woke up with some happy 'today's the day, man!' song I haven't listened to in a long time, and it made me laugh a bit. Then it faded until I couldn't remember which song it was, and the emotion was replaced by somber. Sombriety. It doesn't hurt at all, and it's not indifference, it's just a melencholyness that reminds me I'm being rebuilt. And suddenly I got a text from a guy back home: "I haven't forgotten about you, buddy. How's life?" and this almost made me cry. This isn't the kind of guy who says buddy, or, in my understanding, one who ever cared how I was doing. How can something like this produce a spark of hope? is it for connection? or being remembered? I forget I'm not forgotten often, but less and less. I'm growing from the top of me, my foundation expanding to hold me upright. yeah yeah yeah
and there's a man who looks like Steven Spielberg down the Starbucks bar from me.
I've been reading lately. Mostly nothings, forgettables, and Utopia. I guess I want to be immersed in how writers write. The stuff that stands out to me, really stands out, is stuff I try to hold on to. One 90 page book had crystal clear description, a perfect use of adjectives that made his settings shine or simply fade. I don't think I've encountered that before, so I think I'd like to read it again just to pay closer attention to how he did it. At one point he called sunshine 'lemony' and it set my senses on fire because he was describing gloaming, a time of day that bathes you in an effervescent satisfaction and settled jubilance for beauty and the world. Gloaming is when you can get out of your head and just be.
In writing less is more. However, my understanding of a given something is multifaceted and though I've single words to convey it, I feel the need to draw it, giving an understanding less superficial than thorough. Is 'thorough' the same as 'meaningful'?
Well, somniloquence is the word for talking in your sleep.
I tie my angels to the ground
the airwaves curling and calling
a return to flight
I hold on tight
thinking only on loss and being bereft
my angels.
But they're never mine
to hold or loose
just messengers and gifts
for me to choose
to heed or not
I'm being taught how life
comes in endless waves.
So, as usual, I end with something upbeat.
Austra's 'Lose It' is incredible.
that and
Royal Tailor: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fEzas-F_aKA
They're a gang of supercool guys who are just, like, woah. I guess I've never met a band before (?) so I could have been a little starstruck. Whatever, they're ultra talented and the concert was bangin'. The lead singer's name is Tauren (surely one of my future children's names) and he's got a voice that literally made me stop and stare. plus he dance real good. An admirable man, he, for several reasons. Their premier album comes out June 7, so . get it.
Today I woke up with some happy 'today's the day, man!' song I haven't listened to in a long time, and it made me laugh a bit. Then it faded until I couldn't remember which song it was, and the emotion was replaced by somber. Sombriety. It doesn't hurt at all, and it's not indifference, it's just a melencholyness that reminds me I'm being rebuilt. And suddenly I got a text from a guy back home: "I haven't forgotten about you, buddy. How's life?" and this almost made me cry. This isn't the kind of guy who says buddy, or, in my understanding, one who ever cared how I was doing. How can something like this produce a spark of hope? is it for connection? or being remembered? I forget I'm not forgotten often, but less and less. I'm growing from the top of me, my foundation expanding to hold me upright. yeah yeah yeah
and there's a man who looks like Steven Spielberg down the Starbucks bar from me.
I've been reading lately. Mostly nothings, forgettables, and Utopia. I guess I want to be immersed in how writers write. The stuff that stands out to me, really stands out, is stuff I try to hold on to. One 90 page book had crystal clear description, a perfect use of adjectives that made his settings shine or simply fade. I don't think I've encountered that before, so I think I'd like to read it again just to pay closer attention to how he did it. At one point he called sunshine 'lemony' and it set my senses on fire because he was describing gloaming, a time of day that bathes you in an effervescent satisfaction and settled jubilance for beauty and the world. Gloaming is when you can get out of your head and just be.
In writing less is more. However, my understanding of a given something is multifaceted and though I've single words to convey it, I feel the need to draw it, giving an understanding less superficial than thorough. Is 'thorough' the same as 'meaningful'?
Well, somniloquence is the word for talking in your sleep.
I tie my angels to the ground
the airwaves curling and calling
a return to flight
I hold on tight
thinking only on loss and being bereft
my angels.
But they're never mine
to hold or loose
just messengers and gifts
for me to choose
to heed or not
I'm being taught how life
comes in endless waves.
So, as usual, I end with something upbeat.
Austra's 'Lose It' is incredible.
4.06.2011
Higher order
I never gave thought to the higher order of things until they came calling.
I was at my neighbor's house. We'd played two games of scrabble (I won) and were into a furious round of Skip-Bo (his wife winning) when there was a shuffling of feet and a knock at the door.
andthenIlostinspiration.
Good awareness. I hate the thought of my doing wrong. Even after the concept has left my mind, I still find myself toeing the line there or suddenly miles on the far side. What trials do we think Jesus' cause is strong enough to overcome? Well, all of them, generally. Why am I exempt?
I tried to shrink back from my contention and hide in thoughts of suicide's 'sweet release' (where success is simply not going through with it), but I couldn't get underground at all. I stared at myself in the mirror bereft. I tried to hate my hair, face, body, form, personality, and hard-heartedness, and couldn't do any of it. All the old justifications were like confetti - stupid, ubiquitous, here and gone.
I need to have a reason for the agitation I feel, but all you've done is justified so I am once more left without any concrete thing. I'm 6 and lost. ashamed of a thing that happened which I can't even remember.
"People should be changed by world wars," I said, "else what are world wars for?"
Look how I'm doing. I'm doing alright. It's actually been really good. I've found people and a life I've longed to create for a long time; and I'm getting a job and finding my feet and it's pretty great. No, yeah, I'm doing great.
I need to carry Grace with me - a vial around my neck full of blood. then I could drink it when I need to remember that Jesus did the bitter thing better than I ever could.
Receive passover and carry it with you.
Last night after Bible Grub with Hightop's Twentysomethings, I went to check on the movies. A kid approached me and introduced himself as Elijah. He had a box of suncatchers and was asking for donations for something/missions/giving. I asked him about his experiences and faith, and found out he was collecting money for a group that was not his own. I was gonna give him the couple bucks in my backpack, but it was gone. So I offered him my clif bar and 5hour energy. He told me I could probably use it more than he could, but he thanked me for my heart. I apologized for not having cash, but 'God Bless'ed him and he returned it. I checked on the movie times and didn't really read the board, kinda twisted about not giving where I 'could have', instead allocating resources to the wind. I walked back toward my car and remembered the atm (not Wells Fargo) where I could get some cash and was suddenly sure that I had to give him twenty bucks. I knew the withdrawal would cost me, but that didn't bother me. I moved the car over near the atm and got twenty out at a $2 charge, and fast-walked over to the theatre where Elijah was no longer present. I walked around, up and down looking into nooks for a kid in a grey coat holding a box. I was borderline despair because it was burning in me that I had to give him the money. I threw out a prayer that he return, and (oddly) didn't doubt that I'd find him. This was neat, the word at work, because at BibleGrub we'd read James1, verse 6 standing out to me: But when you ask him, be sure that you really expect him to answer... tossed by the sea, etc... and I expected him to come through in this. That didn't stop the worried hustle-walk/jog I ran around with, sure of myself he'd left as it was 9pm and cold. I asked the girl at the movie window if she'd seen which way he'd gone, but she wasn't the one who had been there earlier. I didn't know what to do, and still with some quiet sureness I headed toward my car, okay that I'd spent $2 to get out cash I wasn't pressed for. I wandered and had to tie my Converse thinking I could just do it in the car. The sentence 'I have nowhere else to be' ran through my mind so I knelt under a lamppost and tied my shoe. I walked along the edge of a building and passed a couple girls pushing a garbage bin. They weren't really my attention, but I turned and scanned the parking lot again and saw the grey coat run out from the building toward the first row of cars. I shouted his name and took off for him. He stopped and I pulled out the folded twenty from my pocket. He took it and was kinda dumbfounded. 'Thank you,' he said. I said something obligatory and started to jog away. He yelled after me for my name and I gave it him, the second time wondering why I would give my name at all-what credit could I need? Then I ran toward my car and before I got there I was sobbing. A dam inside me broke when I sat in the car. I wailed and was refreshed that I couldn't own anything, because nothing is mine. This money's his and I am but steward over it. I've been a terrible steward, but here, I, son, loved, am sensitive and responded to my father's will. It doesn't matter what it went to or how Elijah was affected (except he got to see a son be conflicted/faithful). This for me. twentytwo dollars of thank you God for doing this mundane and miraculous thing. And I realized I'd had a word for him too, but had been too anxious getting away to deliver the words 'Don't give up'.
There I got to reprise the role of grateful son and remember how much I missed it. There I got to partake in the bounty that I AM GIVEN, a rich man who gives and not a wretch who clutches tightly. But it's at His whim, not my own. By His spirit, not my inclination.
I was at my neighbor's house. We'd played two games of scrabble (I won) and were into a furious round of Skip-Bo (his wife winning) when there was a shuffling of feet and a knock at the door.
andthenIlostinspiration.
Good awareness. I hate the thought of my doing wrong. Even after the concept has left my mind, I still find myself toeing the line there or suddenly miles on the far side. What trials do we think Jesus' cause is strong enough to overcome? Well, all of them, generally. Why am I exempt?
I tried to shrink back from my contention and hide in thoughts of suicide's 'sweet release' (where success is simply not going through with it), but I couldn't get underground at all. I stared at myself in the mirror bereft. I tried to hate my hair, face, body, form, personality, and hard-heartedness, and couldn't do any of it. All the old justifications were like confetti - stupid, ubiquitous, here and gone.
I need to have a reason for the agitation I feel, but all you've done is justified so I am once more left without any concrete thing. I'm 6 and lost. ashamed of a thing that happened which I can't even remember.
"People should be changed by world wars," I said, "else what are world wars for?"
Look how I'm doing. I'm doing alright. It's actually been really good. I've found people and a life I've longed to create for a long time; and I'm getting a job and finding my feet and it's pretty great. No, yeah, I'm doing great.
I need to carry Grace with me - a vial around my neck full of blood. then I could drink it when I need to remember that Jesus did the bitter thing better than I ever could.
Receive passover and carry it with you.
Last night after Bible Grub with Hightop's Twentysomethings, I went to check on the movies. A kid approached me and introduced himself as Elijah. He had a box of suncatchers and was asking for donations for something/missions/giving. I asked him about his experiences and faith, and found out he was collecting money for a group that was not his own. I was gonna give him the couple bucks in my backpack, but it was gone. So I offered him my clif bar and 5hour energy. He told me I could probably use it more than he could, but he thanked me for my heart. I apologized for not having cash, but 'God Bless'ed him and he returned it. I checked on the movie times and didn't really read the board, kinda twisted about not giving where I 'could have', instead allocating resources to the wind. I walked back toward my car and remembered the atm (not Wells Fargo) where I could get some cash and was suddenly sure that I had to give him twenty bucks. I knew the withdrawal would cost me, but that didn't bother me. I moved the car over near the atm and got twenty out at a $2 charge, and fast-walked over to the theatre where Elijah was no longer present. I walked around, up and down looking into nooks for a kid in a grey coat holding a box. I was borderline despair because it was burning in me that I had to give him the money. I threw out a prayer that he return, and (oddly) didn't doubt that I'd find him. This was neat, the word at work, because at BibleGrub we'd read James1, verse 6 standing out to me: But when you ask him, be sure that you really expect him to answer... tossed by the sea, etc... and I expected him to come through in this. That didn't stop the worried hustle-walk/jog I ran around with, sure of myself he'd left as it was 9pm and cold. I asked the girl at the movie window if she'd seen which way he'd gone, but she wasn't the one who had been there earlier. I didn't know what to do, and still with some quiet sureness I headed toward my car, okay that I'd spent $2 to get out cash I wasn't pressed for. I wandered and had to tie my Converse thinking I could just do it in the car. The sentence 'I have nowhere else to be' ran through my mind so I knelt under a lamppost and tied my shoe. I walked along the edge of a building and passed a couple girls pushing a garbage bin. They weren't really my attention, but I turned and scanned the parking lot again and saw the grey coat run out from the building toward the first row of cars. I shouted his name and took off for him. He stopped and I pulled out the folded twenty from my pocket. He took it and was kinda dumbfounded. 'Thank you,' he said. I said something obligatory and started to jog away. He yelled after me for my name and I gave it him, the second time wondering why I would give my name at all-what credit could I need? Then I ran toward my car and before I got there I was sobbing. A dam inside me broke when I sat in the car. I wailed and was refreshed that I couldn't own anything, because nothing is mine. This money's his and I am but steward over it. I've been a terrible steward, but here, I, son, loved, am sensitive and responded to my father's will. It doesn't matter what it went to or how Elijah was affected (except he got to see a son be conflicted/faithful). This for me. twentytwo dollars of thank you God for doing this mundane and miraculous thing. And I realized I'd had a word for him too, but had been too anxious getting away to deliver the words 'Don't give up'.
There I got to reprise the role of grateful son and remember how much I missed it. There I got to partake in the bounty that I AM GIVEN, a rich man who gives and not a wretch who clutches tightly. But it's at His whim, not my own. By His spirit, not my inclination.
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