Cynic

God is teaching me...


Slowly.


To be less cynical...

Ryan Adams

Today is a great day. I got my hands on the new Ryan Adams EP, "Follow the Lights". I've decided something very recently. Ryan Adams, in all forms, by himself, with the Cardinals, or in the early days with Whiskeytown, is my favorite artist ever.

Maybe it's the time of life I'm in. I can't get enough of it. Whether its road trips, seeing him live, or barbecuing in Armstrong's back yard. The music just speaks to my soul. Sometimes painful, sometimes playful. Other times depressing, and definitely, the "damn" times.

Adams has been labeled a drama queen, mad genius, and punk. Make no mistake. He is all of those. But just like other greats before him, his work stands alone. Elton John said Adams is the greatest singer/songwriter of his generation, and regularly covers Adams' stuff, most notably, "Oh My Sweet Carolina".

His concert two weeks ago at the Fox Theatre in Atlanta was stunning. Musically gifted, lyrically brilliant, and emotionally haunting, Adams has a way of speaking about duty, pain, depression, love, and home. He is an American treasure. Even if he knows it. Even if he's an ass.

Sometimes I wish Adams was a little more user friendly. I wish he wasn't so much like...well, Ryan Adams. If he could just be less of a jerk, nicer even. But then again... isn't that what makes Ryan Adams, Ryan Adams? It's him taking 30 minute intermissions. He's the guy who mesmerizes you for an hour and a half, and then pulls an "Adams" by not coming back for an encore, leaving everyone upset. All of that...plus the genius. The lyrics. The guitars and pianos, make him completely unique in music today.


In a day when music is overly produced and fake...

there is Ryan Adams...
and the Cardinals...
and Whiskeytown.


"I Taught Myself How to Grow Old"
Words and Music by Ryan Adams, from the Album Easy Tiger

Poor little rose, beaten by the rain
In the wind, in the gale, thunder and the hail
Sometimes I feel like I'm going insane
Without the numbness or the pain so intense to feel
'Specially now it added up through the years

And I, I taught myself how to grow
Without any love and there was poison in the rain
I taught myself how to grow
Now I'm crooked on the outside and the inside's broke

Most of the times I got nothing to say
When I do it's nothing and nobody's there to listen anyway
I know I'm probably better off this way
I just listen to the voices on the TV 'til I'm tired
My eyes grow heavy and I fade away

'Cause I, I taught myself how to grow
Without any love and there was poison in the rain
I taught myself how to grow
Though I was crooked on the outside

I taught myself how to grow
Without any love and there was poison in the rain
I taught myself how to grow
'Til I was crooked on the outside, inside's caved

Crooked on the outside, inside's caved
Crooked on the outside, inside is caved
I taught myself how to grow old

Flour and Oil

Certain things seem like they're never going away. Part of growing older you would think, means that some things become easier; others harder, but at least the things you've been dealing with will go away right?

What is it that keeps us from changing? Is it fear of the unknown? A lack of understanding of the past?

I'm currently on a reading plan through the Bible, which by the way I used to laugh at, now if I'm honest is one of the main reasons I read the Bible. It works, so pick one up. One of the great things about these plans is that it takes you throughout the whole bible, and not just the places you like. The other day I was reading in 1 Kings, and came to the story of Elijah and the widow. This really desperate scene where a prophet of God, certainly having to know the situation of the widow, asks her for food and water. She swears all she has is enough to take home for herself and her son, and that’s it.

They'll die.

Then Elijah, this prophet says, "Oh don't worry, go home and you'll be fine. I promise. But first... make me a cake."

“Make me a cake, for when you go home, the jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord gives rain on the Land."

Can you imagine that moment for the widow? She has nothing. And here's this man who says he's a prophet, promising her a lifetime's worth of supply... but now she must put all she has into this cake for him?

When I think about it, it's like I can see her there, kneading the flour, thinking only of her son back home, tears mixing with flour, thinking, "God...what are you doing to me?"

She doesn't know for sure that her flour and oil jars will be "magic" jugs now. She doesn't know what will happen to her and her boy. She bends down, and makes a cake.

I can't stop thinking about it.
It's seared in my mind now.


There are so many things in my life that I just can't shake. I can't get them off me, and in one moment I know why, and in another, I have no idea. "God...what are you doing to me?"

For some reason I’ve never been able to give it all up. To look myself square in the eyes and say, “do you trust Him enough? Do you trust yourself enough?” I can’t count the times I’ve been at the place where I was being asked to move, and yet I stood still.

Desperation usually leads to lashing out and bad decisions. But this widow…

She takes the flour…and the oil…and on the promise that God will move towards her…makes a cake for Elijah.

You see I want to know so desperately- I want to know that if I’ll just give what little I have, believe me its nothing, if I’ll just give it over, will he fill my jar? Will the jug run over with more than I need? Will he do it?

We all have so many things in our lives that are unanswered. So many issues we don’t want to look at, face, or talk about. A laundry list of struggles that beat us down time and time again, and the thoughts of ever getting passed them become more like a fantasy than a possibility.

But there’s this widow…

In her most desperate time, she gave of what she did not have to the Lord. He took it, and for the rest of her life, took care of her.
There is no doubt that if I could just take what little flour, and what little oil I have, and give it to the Lord…He will answer.

He will answer.

But will I?

BlackWater

I'm not sure how many of you have seen the recent news concerning the American private security company called Blackwater USA. (I'm a news junkie by the way) The usually covert security forces who routinely protect and transport dignitaries around the world, has become a household name due to the accusations that they were trigger happy a few weeks back in Iraq.

I don't know what happened, but apparently these guys are the real deal. Ex-seals and Secial Ops guys who are Bad-A's.

Here's what I know...

Blackwater is the coolest name ever! I want to start a group who does cool things. What? I don't know, we'll see, but it has to have a freaking cool name like Blackwater. So here's where I turn to you...

What should the name be?

It has to have two of the following three options in the title: Color, noun, number, and sound like it could be a legit group included in a Ludlum or Clancy book, or in a Bourne film.

Not to rip off the Le Batard show too much, but cooler undercover ops organization than Blackwater?...

888.790.3652

A Floridian's Fall

For those of us who are legitimate Floridians, who have grown up here for our entire lives, understand a few things about life in south florida.

Tourists and snowbirds are a part of our lives. Always. We accept it, we silently deal with it driving down our local roads... Well maybe not silently.

Hurricanes are just a longer rainstorm for us. Some of us sick freaks actually like watching hurricane coverage as a circulating storm approaches our shores.

Something happens in late September, early October, when a true floridian knows that fall is here. Anyone else, from any place else, probably thinks its just raining, its still 80 degrees out. But there's this change in the air that I try to describe to those not from Florida, that's different. Not drastic, but subtle.

It's like biting sarcasm with a little bit of the edge shaved off. It is what it is. But we know. A true floridian can feel the difference, and it's what keeps us here year after year. These next 6 months, when the weather will be some of the best found on this here planet earth. It's what keeps me from moving to Chicago or Denver, although still likely options someday.

Welcome to the Florida Fall, it is upon us.

Some of you may be wondering, " He hasn't blogged in a month, and this is what he chooses to come out of the box with?" Legitimate thoughts I must say, but due to the fact that I'm sitting in a coffee shop watching the rain and the wind blow, and moping in my despondence over who the Miami Dolphins now are, lead me to write this incredibly boring post, that I apologize has wasted a few minutes of your day. Oh well, what are ya gonna do?...