Random thoughts

The post will live up to its title, and I've got a bunch of things on my mind, so let's start this urban ramble...

Your perspective on somethings change when you're told that you'll go to hell for eating pork. The person wasn't Jewish or Muslim; he's Adventist.

Adventists: part of the body of Christ so they can condemn the rest to hell. I wonder when'll blast me for not going to church on Saturday.


This can eventually lead to a discussion about faith, specifically Romans when Paul tells them to remember that not everyone can eat everything (that's my camp, except for olives), and to remember the "weaker" ones who are vegetarians (the Adventist). Weaker definitely should be in scare quotes since he's seen the inside of a Chinese prison.

So dear Saint, who's stronger?

I'm a brat; let's get this out at the beginning. I've experienced some stuff, but currently I'm leading a cushy life. I don't have to worry about food, and I don't have to worry about internet access.

Geek!

I don't want to start a theological p!ss!ng match, but look at the Apostle's view of "strength." It's basically an ability to live in the world, on the same terms as everyone else, and not be trashed by it. If that's the yardstick, I'm the holiest person I know. Heathen. Paul says more than that, and Paul likes leading a simple, agreeable statement and follow it with enough clauses to make an used-car salesman queasy.

I'm not sure that was a look, closer to a glance.

The Dark Knight is a very cool movie, and the thing is Bat-man himself is subverted, because he's not the one who can save people, ultimately the people choose to let others live.

Whenever Joker was on screen I had this feeling. I call it "Etern-i-go." Quick, put TM behind it.

"Etern-i-go" is a made up word combing eternity and vertigo, so it's a kind of queasiness you might feel when confronted with your existence, and you wonder what the world will be like when die, or what kind of afterlife awaits you. Rest in Peace. It sounds nice.

Yeah, I really am that morbid. Anyway the Joker was cool; he's like a Chaplin from Hell.

I think the current standard for "faith" is how long somebody can sing praise songs.

This Sunday I'm going to a concert by the Hold Steady, the most incredibly awesomest band in the world. Their template is Cash song "Sunday Morning Coming Down" and then rewritten 40 times over and then reinterpreted by a wanna be E Street Band.

It's difficult to learn that not everyone thinks like me.

Or gets sarcasm.

If anyone sees my family, tell them hi from me.

Meiska, I won't be able to get your party. You should live-blog it. I'll send like a million books.

I remember once upon a time that this would be a poetry blog and not a photography blog, but here come the photos. But I have a million poems holed up in my notebooks. I'll excavate them before I leave. Promise. This batch (like cookies!) are sometimes dark and some old and some were composed when the city of Portland tried to build a highway beneath my ear.

Happy now?

I'm reading Dream Songs, a biography of the poet John Berryman. Poets make painters look joyous. No- scratch that. Poets have the souls of supernovas, and are constantly struggling with their thoughts and lives. Painters live in France and paint naked women. Advantage?

No really I wish I was in Tennessee, hanging out with my Ukrainian friends, and my Colorado friends happen to drop by, and then my study-buddies pop on over in order to visit some pubs. Anything aside from waiting.

I warned you.

I'm trying to go see the Fleet Foxes tomorrow night, anybody want to come?

And finally I made this:



cool, no?

So long from your chatty, compulsive, theologically half-baked, somewhat poetic, overly sincere and obviously ironic friend,
Courageous
Honest
Rebellious
Intelligent
Sarcastic

(that's an acrostic someone made for me)