Little Prayer

"Page after page
I have lived Your world
in the narrative manner, Lord,
in my own voice I tell Your story.
Needless to say, I envy

people who dramatically
act the scenes of Your play.
Even so, the narrative manner
is my misere et grandeur.

It is our use
that some of us
insist on how
it is from our point of view."


Little Prayer
Paul Goodman
Little Prayers and Finite Experiences, Harper and Row, 1972

Fill Up

I mentioned in my last post that I'd be letting other people write this blog for a little while. I came across this gem in the library the other day. Fill Up.

In a letter written to Anne Barrett on August 30, 1964, J.R.R. Tolkien wrote of his good friend and colleague, C.S. Lewis:

He was generous-minded, on guard against all prejudices, though a few were too deep-rooted in his native background to be observed by him. That his literary opinions were ever dictated by envy (as in the case of T.S. Eliot) is a grotesque calumny. After all it is possible to dislike Eliot with some intensity even if one has no aspirations to poetic laurels oneself.

Well of course I could say more, but I must draw the line. Still I wish it could be forbidden that after a great man is dead, little men should scribble over him, who have not and must know they have not sufficient knowledge of his life and character to give them any key to the truth. Lewis was not "cut to the quick" by his defeat in the election to the professorship of poetry: he knew quite well the cause. I remember that we had assembled soon after in our accustomed tavern and found C.S.L. sitting there, looking (and since he was no actor at all probably feeling) much at ease. "Fill up!" he said, "and stop looking so glum. The only distressing thing about this affair is that my friends seem to be upset."

Two things.

C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien drinkin' in a pub together. Awesome.

Tolkien referring to Lewis saying, "little men should not scribble over a great man." Wow.

Work

I'm not planning on writing anything for a little while. I'm in a strange place. So, for the next few posts I'm going to let other people smarter, cooler, and more important than me speak. (Not that I ever have anything really cool to say)

These are the lyrics to a song I'm currently listening to over and over again. It sums up the place I feel like I'm in right now. Confused.

It's hard work, being Confused.

"Work"

Just in case, I will leave my things packed
So I can run away

I cannot trust these voices
I don't have a line of prospects that can give some kind of peace
There is nothing left to cling to that can bring me sweet release
I have no fear of drowning
It's the breathing that's taking all this work

Do you know what I mean when I say, "I don't want to be alone"?
What I mean when I say, "I don't want to be alone"

Empty spaces with shadows hit by streetlights
Warnings signs and weight of tired conversations
In the absence of a shoulder, in the abscess of a thief
On the brink of this destruction, on the eve of bittersweet
Now all the demons look like prophets and I'm living out
Every word they speak, every word they speak

Do you know what I mean when I say, "I don't want to be alone"?
What I mean when I say, "I don't want to be alone"
What I mean when I say, "I don't want to be alone"
Alone, alone, I don't want to be alone

I have no fear of drowning
It's the breathing that's taking all this work

*Words and music by Dan Haseltine, Charlie Lowell,
Stephen Mason, Matt Odmark
- from the album Good Monsters

Reggie Kidd

I have a professor up at RTS Orlando (Reformed Theological Seminary) named Reggie Kidd. Reggie is pronounced with a hard "g" sound, like in "go".

He's a pretty incredible guy who does wild stuff like gator hunting with a harpoon, and samurai sword fighting. He writes about it.

It's awesome. Read it. Read him a lot.

Reggie's blog

See the Film

One of the great gifts to modern culture in the 20th century was Harper Lee’s Pulitzer Prize winning book, To Kill A Mockingbird. I recently saw the 1962 film starring Gregory Peck and a young Robert Duval. Many of you know the story; you read the book in junior high school. Do yourself a favor. Read it again. See the film.

Racially prejudiced, 1932 Alabama, plays the backdrop for a 6-year-old tomboy named Scout to tell her story. Maycomb, the small Alabaman town brilliantly described as “a tired and sleepy town,” is the home of Atticus Finch, widowed father of Scout. A principled man who is charged to defend in front of an all white jury, Tom Robinson, a black man falsely accused of raping a bigoted white woman.

The writing is both beautiful and revolutionary. It is story telling at its most beautiful and highest point. Scenes take our now 21st century collective breath away at their poignancy and depth. They’ve become part of American culture.

"You never know someone," Atticus tells Scout, "until you step inside their skin and walk around a little."

“There's a lot of ugly things in this world, son. I wish I could keep 'em all away from you. That's never possible.” – Atticus Finch

But the scene that takes my breath away. The scene that stops my heart when I see it, is Atticus Finch’s leaving of the courtroom. The incredible emotion throughout the movie pours out in Tom Robinson’s examination on the stand, and our heart falls at the jury’s reading of an anticipated guilty verdict. As the white people joyfully file out of the courtroom, Finch stays behind. He sits silently as the crowd of black spectators watch with heartbroken intent. As he packs his things, and walks towards the door, the black audience relegated to the balcony, stands in admiration.

Rev. Sykes whispers to young Scout, “Scout. Scout…Stand up. Your father is passing.”

Stand up. Your father is passing.

Art is timeless.

Peace and justice are timeless.

Read it again.

See the film.

Man Law

Blogs were designed for opinion. That's what we do here. I am fully aware that this post will offend, piss off, and perhaps, bring some of my friendships to an end. In the face of that however, I press on even still.

Before I begin, I must preface this by saying I am only a recent convert to this new position that I will proclaim. You may like to think of it as a type of reformation. Though once I acted and took part in this old way of thinking, I now have recently decided to abandon my old ways, and move on to a new way of living. So be warned. A certain number of you will be offended and appalled. I apologize. I have to put this out to the universe.

New Man Law.
Men should no longer where Sandals.

No longer should the "flip-flop", Reef, Teva, Rainbow, Old Navy knock-off, be allowed to be worn by Men over the age of 12.

As I sat in class the other day, I noticed that not only did every female in the room have some sort of sandal on, but every male did as well. And what I saw were nasty, narly, huge, hairy feet. I was given by God what they call "swimmer" feet. Which for those of you who don't know what that term means, I have huge feet. Flippers. And they're pasty white to match the rest of my pasty body. No longer should those be shown to anyone. I realize an incredibly drastic reform such as this must be defined and explained with its new parameters and rules. Now, I will try to explain what is acceptable, and what is not.

Unacceptable cases for men to wear any form of sandal:

1. If you are over 6'4"- you have huge feet, and are no longer
aloud to wear sandals
2. Guy who wears sandals only outdoors and as soon as he crosses the threshold of a door, discards them and precedes to walk around the office, classroom, establishment barefoot- Ridiculous
3. Guy who only! Ever wears sandals- Don't be afraid to put a little effort in. Ya know, tie a shoelace or two, put those dogs away!
4. No, I repeat, No guy has good feet. They're nasty, narly, and huge. Girls don't want to look at them.

Acceptable cases:

1. When in transit to, or from the beach, lake, or river
2. When on vacation
3. Around the house
4. If you're a girl

Men. Get out there. Risk it. Go buy yourself some new kicks! Let's get some style, put some effort in, and cover those bad boys up! Help your ankles out. Give them some support. Besides, when could one ever take part in the random pick-up sporting activity when we are wearing sandals? We've all been there! We've been reduced to playing barefoot while everyone else ran past us in sneakers, because we were unprepared.

Things like these take time. Change doesn't happen overnight. I just ask you think about these things. Respond accordingly to one's own conscience.

I am a keeper of the new Man Law. Even if in the sandal wearing culture, my friends, and my associates, disagree, spit, persecute, and never talk to me again.

I'm callin' it like it is.

Girls should wear sandals.

Guys.

Never.

Video Killed the Radio Star, Someone Killed MTV

The other night I caught the last hour of this year's Video Music Awards. The premier event of the year for the network that has made us ask ourselves, "MTV stands for Music Television...right?"

I'm one who was born into, lived in, and enjoyed the MTV era. I couldn't wait to watch the VMA's every year. I knew I was going to see something crazy, awesome...something important
I couldn't afford to miss.

What I saw Thursday night, was none of that.

The closing of the show made it clear. As J-Lo presented the coveted award of the night, "Video of the Year", MTV drove the nail into their own coffin. She began her presentation by hilighting how the VMA's have awarded the artistic expression of Music Videos for 23 years. She mentioned the early videos to take home video of the year honors, Peter Gabriel's, "Sledgehammer", and ten years later, the importance of Pearl Jam's, "Jeremy". She then introduced this year's nominees:

Shakira, Christina Auguilera, Madonna (who used to be important), Panic! at the Disco (a bad Killers knockoff), and probably embarrassed their included, Red Hot Chili Pepper's for "Dani California". I didn't even want them to win I was so dissappointed.

When did MTV sell itself out to Y-100, Ryan Seacrest, teen pop? The VMA's have become an overproduced, overhyped, Teen Choice Awards.

What happened to the network that for 15-20 years, was the mouthpiece of a generation? The network that captivated us and forced us to watch, that had such influence it affected Presidential elections. When did the programming start targeting 12-18 year old girls?

What happened to the days when Axl Rose challenged Kurt Cobain to a fight? With Courtney Love egging her husband on! That's MTV! How cool was it when Pearl Jam and Neil Young took the stage together? Or when Nirvana refused to play "Smells Like Teen Spirit", and played, "Rape Me" to every network exec's horror. Instead, all we have is one bad teen pop song, after another. Where is anything important? Is there nothing important being done in pop culture? Is that why MTV never pays attention to it? Or did the guy who killed the radio star kill MTV too?

Art is important. Music is important.

MTV.

Not important.

Not anymore.