Imagining Christ

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I Am
With you.

Rebounder

I look at you like a sang song
to the unattainable hymns
sounding above the upraised throats
of the impious trying to be
more than I am a cublice drone
with a see through scalp prowling
for revenge sex too cowardly
to consummate gentleman

Dental Celebrity

I'm like a celebrity at the dentist. No cavaties, ever? No braces? No smoking? No coffee? AND you brush regularly? {swoon} I was all "my eyes are up here."

I've been fitted for a night guard because I was told I grind my teeth at the last denist appointment. I teased that Night Guard sounded like a edgy superhero who fights crime while the city sleeps and the hygenist just blinked at me. Like everyone who gets a night guard tells that joke. They asked me if I wanted the mold of my teeth but regretted that the front teeth had accidentally been chipped. They offered it to me anyway. "Heckz yeah!" I said! I've made finger holds on the bottom and top teeth so I can use it like a puppet. Now I have someone to talk to!

{Jerkface Mode On}

Raesh: What are you doing?!
Son: Nothing.
Raesh: {Daddy voice mode on} You're SUPPOSED to be doing spelling or taking a bath!
Son: I was just listening to you play guitar. I couldn't hear you in my room.
Raesh: Go take a bath, son.
Raesh: You know I'd play guitar in your room if you ask.

Value of Merit

Her immediate thought was he must be a fascist. Tall and rigid, he wore the uniform of some newly formed eastern European country Meritt guessed probably ended in "-icstan." His features held a severity that made people think everything he said was of dire importance. He had the dark features of a Moorish Spaniard. He didn't carry a heavy pack like NATO soldiers, just utilitarian duffel large enough for a change of clothes and a shaving kit. His face was fallow and she thought he must be older than she, but you can never tell because life east of Greece ages peoples' faces.

Meritt amended her first impression of a stern goose-stepper when he helped an old woman board the train. Then her bags. Then her covered birdcage, as gently as if it were his own. The old lady tried to tip him (he was in uniform after all; though Meritt could hardly believe he would be mistaken for a valet) but he gentlemanly refused. They seemed to debate while she stood on the train's entry steps and he looked up at her from the platform. She first offered more, then less. When it was obvious he would offend her if he declined, he accepted some pittance. Once the money changed hands, she moved and permitted him to board. Clever old woman.

The soldier came into Meritt's car. She watched him take off his hat and stow his bag underneath a seat next to a man she had already voted "most likely to sleep with his mouth open." The soldier faced the back of the train. Meritt faced the front. Their eyes met for the first time and she noticed he had long lashes. They both looked quickly away just as the train lumbered into motion.

Most of the trip, she avoided conversation with the woman sitting next to her wearing a dress patterned after a table cloth by looking aloof and making her earbuds obvious. Trains bore Meritt. She prefers to travel by car, where she has control, or by plane, where the wait is mercifully short. She took the night train hoping to sleep most of the trip away. Only after seeing that she wouldn't want to close her eyes for any extended period of time with these "coach passengers" did she regret not making her father buy her a cabin. She passed the time staring at a landscape changing too slowly to be interesting. She brought a teen trash novel about an American Wild West werewolf and his repressed, Victorian love interest. Her sister recommended it, but it was drivel. Sometimes she stole glances at the soldier. Sometimes she caught him looking at her.

When the table cloth woman took the stop at dusk, the soldier moved to sit next to her. Meritt had been right about the open-mouth sleeper and the soldier had been looking very uncomfortable as the man's head bobbed with sleep apnea sounds. "Is this place taken?" He was putting his bag and hat under the seat before Meritt could answer. She tried to look disinterested.

The rode in silence until Meritt had memorized the new Audio Séance album in its entirety. She removed her earbuds and the soldier said, "I like to make up stories about the things that pass by." He was looking out the window as he spoke the words.

"Are you an author?"

He laughed the laugh of a hookah bar, "Your stories have to be interesting to be an author."

"You're a poet, then? Because they don't have to be interesting at all, just weird."

"A very poetic observation."

"Are you saying I'm weird?" She had not intended to flirt with him, but already she was putting him on the defensive and seeking compliments.

"I'm Cahit. What's your name?"

"Meritt."

"I work with men who’ve chased merits all their lives."

Thus began a nightlong conversation. Cahit didn’t hail from Youbrokeastand, but was Turkish. He laughed when Meritt confessed she had been to neither. He looked stern, but smiled easy and attributed both looks and smile to his grandfather. That grandfather still herds sheep in the foothills.

Cahit’s father didn’t dream of sheep and moved to the city. He didn’t have the education to thrive, but learned quickly where to direct young Cahit for success. He still feels the weight of his father’s vicariosity “if that’s a word. There’s a word for it in Turkish. But the idea still translates, yes?”

He enlisted in the military hoping for some sense of adventure. He’s disappointed he spends most of his time checking IDs at checkpoints on base. He resents his commanding officer. He overheard him refer to a soldier’s value as “he can stop a bullet.” When Meritt commented on the very un-NATO pack, Cahit informed her Turkey has been in NATO for 60 years.

He quit college to join the Army – another regret. He was studying to be an architect. He worried he’s not creative enough, but wants to do something lasting in the world.

Cahit read Grimm’s Fairy Tales and all the mystery of the Black Forest made him want to see it for himself. He didn’t find any gingerbread houses or talking wolves, but he did experience a sense of the wild. It was at Baden-Baden, the resort town on the outskirts of the Black Forest, that he boarded the train.

Meritt wasn't aware when she fell asleep. But she woke with Cahit's arm around her shoulder, nestled to his pressed uniform chest. He told her he didn't sleep but watched over her.

Meritt blinked dreamily in the morning light, “were you making up stories for what you saw?”

“All I saw was you,” replied Cahit.

“Then your story must have been exotic and interesting beyond compare,” she teased.

“It ended with me giving you my email address.” He pulled out a precisely folded paper and gave it to her. She mashed it into her pocket with other sundries.

In the light of day, their conversation was much less intimate. They spoke philosophy and music and even briefly delved into God (Cahit was Muslim, but not very devout). Nothing really about them – their nonsense dreams or that one who bruised their heart or what they would allow to corrupt them. Instead it was ideas and pop culture.

But Meritt didn’t move.

And Cahit held her in his half embrace.

At her stop, Meritt smiled pensively. She recognized the moment for what it had become. Her future could be defined by the choices in front of her – romantic and impulsive and practical and silly and lascivious. Each decision spread before her like a web of possibility. As she packed up her things, every movement to disembark put a future to death. Opportunities shriveled into truth.

She stood on the platform with an anxious thudding in her chest. He lives in Ankara for christsake. And Muslim. And in a foreign army. She fished out his email as the train pulled away. Receipts rained to the floor as she clasped the neatly folded paper. She did what she knew what right. Only later did she consider that Cahit might have watched her throw it to the waste.

ohgoshwow

I've got this amazing kid I don't deserve. Recently, I've seen myself turn sardonic and a bit cutting, but my son compliments so easily. It's natural for him.

Tonight he takes his first bite of salmon and says "ohgoshwowthatsgood." He's seen me cook since he was small. I've got this masterpiece on my fridge titled "Son Helps Dad Cook" where my son is drawn a safe distance from the stove that Daddy is operating. Daddy has caught himself on fire. Flames are everywhere. Last week he suggested I should write a cookbook.

Truth is, I'm not a very good cook. But he's not really complimenting the food. He's talking about us in the environment and me providing for him and laughing and feeling protected and this moment where even the taste of lightly seasoned and overdone salmon is good.

It's humbling when children teach you things.

Undatable

VH1 had this show on called "Undatable" that clues guys in to what they do that turns women off. Most of it was no-brainer stuff like "don't pick your nose on a date" and "bathe regularly." But they had other things that took my by surprise. Here are my undatables:

I do "fake swearing" all the friggin' time. I own nunchucks (shut up). I sometimes talk about video games, but usually its in the context of kids or art. However, my worst offence would probably be that in my work clothes, I own twice as many pleated pants as non-pleated. I'm trying to reform, though. This weekend I bought a sweater and some pants - not pleated, tyvm.

I think would have been really funny if they rated the offences on a scale of 1 to 10. 1 is "just needs a feminine touch" to 10 "no way. never. game over." Oh fudge. I just talked about video games again...

Nerdapolooza!

I went to a Sci-Fi convention with a friend and our boys. It was SO crowded! I came out of there thinking "my elbows must be too big, because they were bumping into everyone." My friend's son was stopped about 1/2 a dozen times to have his picture taken for being dressed up like Boba Fett. He was soooo cute!

There was the autograph section with pudgy guards to keep us regular folk out (you had to buy a special "I'm allowed to see the washed-up talent" pass - which I didn't buy), a comic book section and a toy section. Needless to say, we spent most of our time in the toy section. My son picked out what he wanted to buy and they were like "cash only." I've had the same $4 in my wallet for about 3months. I NEVER use cash. My friend had to spot me $10 on entry because I didn't have enough money (let's go dutch. oops, I "forgot" my wallet...). Apparently, I'm the only person in the whole nerdiverse who doesn't know that these are cash-only under-the-table I'm-not-reporting-this-on-my-taxes kinds of transactions.

I was like "Do you take credit cards?"
he was all "are you a narc?"
and I was like "Do I look like a narc?"
and he was all "what do you weigh? 160? 165? Only narcs come in here weighing less than 220."
"What if I am a woman?" - I'm betting he's never seen a woman except for his mother. How would they know if I was or not? I'm dainty in this crowd.
"Right. the women are the ones weighing 220."

$8 in transaction fees later, I'm paying in cash, sporting my "I"m with n00b -->" T shirt and guiding a 1/2 size jedi through this thing like a full time dork.

My son's toy choice seemed pretty cool at first. He likes Clone Troopers because they're trained to fight from birth and have cool code names like "Scorch," "Matchstick," and "Rudder." He bought one titled "Airbourne Trooper." Who has a rife, a gun, removable helmet, blast armor and a satchel for explosives. Sounds cool, right? Check him out:




Look at that purse and skirt! ZOMG?!?! What's his code name? Lipstick?

"All units report in"
"Buzz Saw. Ready."
"Stone. Checking in"
"Fixer. Good to go."
"Lipstick. Fab-U-lous!"

I got called a creep today.

"Keep it to yourself Creep-O! This is a house of Gawd!" I guess she called me "creep-O" because calling me a "creep" at church wouldn't be very Christian. OK, so I started at the end. Let me back up.

I started this new mouthwash today and it tasted fantastic! I mean the best mouthwash I've ever tasted. Including that bubble gum mouthwash I had as a kid. At lunch I was thinking "I can have water, milk, orange juice or...mouthwash!" it was so good. It was purple so I was expected cough-syrup grape flavor, but man was I wrong! Target sells it and it's mint-eucalyptus. I've had mint plenty, so I'm guessing it's the eucalyptus. No wonder that's all Koala's eat! It's delicious!

I'm sitting in church and the pastor's talking about the condition of people's souls eternal consequences or somesuch, and all I'm thinking is "My god, this mouthwash tastes good on my teeth." I'm smacking my lips and rubbing my tongue over my gums and making mouth noises to the distraction of the people sitting next to me.

After the service, in the lobby a marginally attractive woman approaches me with a determined look on her face. My church is shaped like an amphitheater and I sit on one end and I recognize her as a regular sitter on the opposite end. I smile because that's what you're supposed to do at church, and she says "Keep it to yourself, Creep-O! This is a house of Gawd!" then marches off in righteous indignation. It's then that I realize that apparently, it's a come-on to look in someone's general direction and lick your teeth and lips.

Man's man video...kind of

Brandon Flowers is the lead singer for the Killers. In his video, he's incorporated explosions, trucks, ninjas and Charlize Theron. Pretty much the perfect man-video. Check for yourself:



Here's another song that I hope does well. No ninjas, but I love the cadence the lead singer uses:

Glasses for Giants

My son recently got the news that he'll need to wear glasses all the time. When I was told that, I felt like I was being forced into nerdom. However, my son has no self-esteem issues. He's picked out glasses with flames running down the earpieces. Today he said:

Son: I like these glasses.
Raesh: I do too. They make you look tough.
Son: When I put them on, everything looks smaller.
Raesh: When you put them on, you grow HUGE like a giant! Everything looks smaller because everything *is* smaller!

We then wrestled on the bed with his giant-powered magic spectacles.

Lepidoptera

Sometimes I forget you’re just an insect,
Fragile and delicate with the slightest flutter of flight.
I don’t reminisce about your pupa –
Full of earth and consumption.
All I see is color and elegance
When your erratic aerials
Delight my eyes.
Through you I hope sometimes God
Might forget I’m just a human.

Grocery Store

Raesh: We've got Turkey Ham, Turkey Beef and Turkey Bacon.
Son: Turkey can be anything!
Raesh: It's O.K., Turkey, you don't have to try so hard. Just be yourself.
Son: We love you just the way you are.
*giggling*
Son: That's something Jim Gaffigan would say.

Thrice Holy

"Holy Holy Holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come." - Rev 4:8

The word for "holy" in Hebrew means, literally "set apart." Specifically set apart for religious use. However, the root word evolved to be richer and more meaningful. The implication developed beyond a separation from the world to "different", "alien" or "other." God is not bound by the world or its influences. He does not sleep, worry about the mortgage, become motivated by sex, feel inferior, strive to improve his status or try to find meaning. We humans avoid pain, exploit those weaker than us, worry about death, create hierarchies, garner respect and take things for granted. God does none of these. He is different than us.

Not just different, though. In English, when we want to compare something we add an "-er" to the adjective. If it's the most we add an "-est.": Jack Black is funnier than Adam Sandler, but Will Ferrell is the funniest actor. In Hebrew, they repeated the word. The Passover is holy. The temple's back room is holy holy (called the Holy of Holies). God is holy holy holy.

God is three times separated from us. We conceptualize him with finite minds and limited lifespans. We see him through a glass darkly. Our perception is so limited, God had to send us a Son so that we would have a glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven's precepts. There is a religious philosophy that states the entirety of Scripture is an anthropomorphism - like using an embedded video of a tesseract to "show" the 4th dimension in a 3 dimensional world. Except that's only one degree of separation from our dimension. Can you concieve of a 5th Dimension at two degrees? A 6th at three degrees of separation?

God is the not-like-us-est being in the universe. And it disturbs me when someone says with absolute confidence they know Him. When I hear that, I want to say "I once thought as you did. Then God changed my mind."

Super

Vanessa and I are standing by the window when the helicopter starts shooting. The window reaches out with glass and bullets while I push her through. We fall down the cliff toward the ocean and I remember water isn't all that soft at 60 feet. Vanessa transforms into a gull below me and soars away. I can hear the pilot whining his guns to follow me. At least she'll make it.

I go in like a pencil and the water catches me in what feels like electricity. I can see bullet wakes around me so I dive - riding the adrenalin from the fall and the cold. An over sized fish comes alongside and I grab its dorsal fin. It moves so quickly that the water nearly blows me off. When my lungs can't take another moment, the fish flares its gills and she transforms. Vanessa's kiss fills my mouth with the air in her lungs. I don't even think about the intimacy until later. She repeats the race and the kiss until we're safe.

I tell her I have to go back. She should meet us at the rendezvous. She hunches into squirrel and runs into the woods. With that talent, Vanessa'll outlive us all.

*****

David's waiting for me. It's poetic, really. He's a traitor to his kind and I'm a traitor to mine. Most people think of superheroes as big and muscle-bound, but the truth is you don't really get that much opportunity to bulk up when you can bench press a city bus. David looks like an emo kid in preppy clothes.

"I should have known they'd send you. You coming in for a drink or do you want it here?"

"Depends. Where do you want to die?"

I invite him in. I hold open the door as he goes in first, arrogantly giving me his back. I taught him better than that. I'm strangely calm. Zen. Do the Shaolin fight in this kind of trance?

The door closes and my foot is in his oblique. I follow with a left hook. Way too slow for David, he blocks it easy just like he's supposed to. My blocked hand pushes his elbow, turning him slightly and jamming his counter. I'm twisted like a coil and unleash my right fist into his pubic bone with a satisfying crack.

Even a superhero can't walk with a broken pubic bone. I get the laptop and tell David I'll see him later. Humans would take three months to recover from an injury like that. I've got a three day head start at most...

Saint

You glimpse him
And the sky charges with grandeur.
The grass shoots long and lovely and lush,
The wind settles to a serenity.
The very air breathes
As if it were all made for him and this moment.
Perhaps it is a gift from the night-sky's Endless,
Those demigods and mythical monsters
Eternally circling one another.
They look down on him, their kindred,
Knowing he's Awake
And feels the obligation due everything
Smaller in the Universe.

Children and Money

Today we were out and my son said two funny things about money:

"They don't make two dollar bills anymore because now we have credit cards."

And later...

Raesh: Sure. If you want to go that's fine.
Son: Does it cost money?
Raesh: I don't know. Let me see. It says "Five Dollars."
Son: I don't want to go.
Raesh: Why not? You just said you wanted to go.
Son: I don't want to spend your money.
Raesh: Hahah. I think I'll be fine.

Solaris

I recently saw Steven Soderberg's film Solaris again. It's not a great movie as a whole, but what's fantastic about it is that no one is fooled by the contructs. Even the contructs know they're not "real." No one is stupid and thinks they're something they're not. Yet the characters are human and can not help themselves but relate irrationally and emotionally.

Here is an excerpt from the screenplay where psychologist Kelvin is talking to his dead wife. He is fully aware Rheya's gone and this thing laying on his chest is a construct. She hasn't discovered she's not "real" yet. He's trying to keep some emotional distance, but she innocently thinks she's Rheya and pushes his resistance like a familiar lover:

Rheya: I don't actually remember anything. I only remember you. Have I been ill?
Kelvin: Sort of.
Rheya: And we've been apart?
Kelvin: Yes.
Rheya: For how long?
Kelvin: A few years.
Rheya: Were you alone?
Kelvin: Yes.
Rheya: Was that difficult?
Kelvin: It was easier than being with someone else.


Once Rheya discovers she's a product of Solaris, she relates to it like God:

"It created me. And yet I can't communicate with it. It must hear me, though. It must know what's happening to me."

In this way, the film is really beautiful.

Holy Saturday

As a child, I always wondered about the Saturday after Good Friday and before Easter. In my mind, God was dead and the Earth and Nature should have rebelled and fallen apart in its own chaos. After all, Matthew tells us that the dead rose and walked in Jerusalem - as if all Hell had broken loose in a very literal sense.

Catholics believe he "rested" in the grave. No sacraments are given and there is no Mass. The world is left without religion for a day.

The early church has a doctrine called the "Harrowing of Hell." Based on a few verses in Acts and 1 Peter, they believed Jesus died and, covered in the sin of the world, was sentenced to Hell. While there, he preached the Gospel and gave unrepentant and ignorant souls a chance at salvation. He miraculously overcame sin and death and was resurrected then reunited with the Father in Heaven.

Personally, I like the idea of a day of stunned silence. The angels and faithful humanity shocked into a meditative contemplation - trying to discern the meaning in Jesus' death. The demons and Satan confused for a time about what to do next - listless in their "victory." I imagine that it was a day where nature tried to flex the rules and bend the boundaries and if you lived on that day, you would have seen many miraculous sights as the spiritual battle line disappeared for a day.

Good Friday

I remember you.
And I remember that your body was broken.
And I remember that your blood was spilled.
I remember that you didn't have to do it.

I remember you.
And I remember that your body was broken.
And I remember how they pierced your side.
Then you defied death and you ascended
into the
sky.

- Gene Eugene

Louisville

I traveled to Louisville, KY for business this week. As far as I know, Kentucky is famous for horse racing, chicken and whiskey. It wasn't race week, I can get KFC anywhere and I don't drink, so I was trying to find ways to entertain myself.

There was a play called "Fissures" that was being performed at a local theater, so I elected to do that. I didn't have high expectations. Louisville is not exactly Broadway, but it beat sitting by the indoor pool and reading.

The play was about reminiscence and memory. The acting was mediocre but the script was very impressive. The most powerful moment was when an actress gives this monologue about how she's stagnant and incapable of change. She sounded like an old woman set in her ways, or an Anne Rice vampire, or a mental patient. Later, the audience realizes that the actress is playing the memory of a man's dead wife. She's not able to change because she's this idealized recollection, not a real woman. It's the best moment in the play.

The picture is that of a heart-clogging sandwich called a "Hot Brown." They are a Louisville specialty and this is the original Hot Brown eaten at the Brown Hotel where the sandwich was invented. I took some hypertension medication before hand, just as a preventative. It's made of bread, cheese, turkey, cheese, bacon, cheese and parsley. Take that Crestor!

As an aside, the hotel I stayed in was haunted, but I didn't find out until I was checking out! Had I known that going in, I would have asked for the most haunted room. Spooky!

Dogs and the blind dream in scent.

A group of us are going out for lunch. The elevator I'm in stops and a young blind woman walks in. The door closes and she says, "I know you're here. I can smell you."

"I never know how much of that stuff to put on. I can't smell it myself."

"Funny I didn't hear you, not even your breathing."

"I get that a lot."

We both get off at the restaurant level and I'm early (like always). The blind woman is by herself and I agree to sit with her awhile. We talk about the solitude and sleep of the sightless. You catch my eye and wave me over. I excuse myself and you're upset. You tell me everyone's waiting. They can't order until I join you.

I know you're right. "I'll say goodbye to that woman, tell her you're here and I that need to go."

"No, you need to come NOW." You're strangly insistent. Our eyes meet and they're not your own.

I give you the smile I always do; I touch the back of your hand. "You're a dream."

Not all saints were celibate

"Do we not have the right to be accompanied by a believing wife, as do the other apostles and the brothers of the Lord and Cephas?" 1Cor. 9:5

Mystery surrounds the wives of the "apostles and the brothers of the Lord and Cephas." Even church tradition is strangely silent about them and their roles. More than revealing perceptions about womens' role in ministry in the early church, I want to know about human relationships with an apostle.

I'm most curious about the wife of Cephas. We know Peter as headstrong and impulsive, emotional and expressive. He was an act-before-you-think-because-doing-something-wrong-is-better-than-doing-nothing-at-all kind of guy. Like we tend to do, I'd guess his choice in a mate would have similar values ("accompanied by a believing wife") but of opposite personality. In my imagination, she is practical, reserved, deliberate and considers all forseeable outcomes before making a decision.

I understand that Scripture's primary concern is about my relationship with God and my responsiblities in that relationship, but I would have liked to see an apostolic marriage. I can hear her say:

"God isn't angry and Satan isn't attacking us; it's just bad luck."

"How can you preach about temperance and be so angry with me, you hypocrite?"

"You can't just tell them how it's got to be, try and sympathize. This is completely different for them."

"I don't want to move again. I don't make friends as easy as you."

"Just stop and think for a minute or you're going to get us both crucified!"

"Paul's not your enemy. He's only saying what he believes is right...and he might have a point."

"I love Him too. He saved my mother. But can you please forget Him for a minute and think about us?"

State of Trance

There was a parcel in the mail today and my son cannot stand to have those things unopened. It's insufferable in an eight-year-old's mind. I tortured him a bit with guessing but then opened it to reveal a compilation CD of a brand of music I like.

When most others I know hear my music I get a comments like "a ten minute song?! I've got a life to go live" or "I don't have the patience to wait that long for the good part." But this is great music from a world-class DJ and my son's heard my ipod before, so I put it in.

He began to shake his proverbial groove thang. He's not had any dance classes, so his brain just moves his limbs as it interprets the rhythms. He's never heard these songs before, so he is completely in the moment. He makes mistakes and doesn't think about it, just keeps on gettin' down. It's beautiful and free.

I couldn't watch.

I kept my head down and watched his feet, trying not to make eye contact. I ate my dinner as if there were no robust movement or distractions.

As I thought about why, I discovered something about myself. I averted my eyes because such a lack of restraint is unseemly. Shameful even. Uninhibited expression is akin to nakedness and somehow inappropriate. It's not to be observed.

This is why I'll never be an artist of any appreciable merit.

Why I Love Snow

We've had a big snowstorm come through and despite all the moanings and groanings of others, I love it! I know it's cold and wet and icy and hard to drive on, but on the other hand it's SNOW! Allow me to explain:

Snow is peaceful. Unlike rain that comes down with thunder and lightning, flakes (blizzards excepted) fall with quiet leisure with no sense of effort.

The earth looks like heaven. The brown, soil-smelling ground of winter is covered in a majestic white that glitters in the sun. The whole landscape looks clean,fresh and unadulterated.

The community comes out. There's a park by my house and all the kids, middle schoolers and high schoolers came out to have snowball fights and build a massive snowman. Some people even walk their dogs.

Snow hypers up my dog! I love the brisk air, but she goes crazy with it. She becomes energized and loves to wrestle, fetch (a.k.a. find the ball in the snow) and roll around in it. The way she bounds around shoulder-deep is hilarious.

Hot chocolate tastes better when there's snow on the ground. That's a science fact.

Life slows down and forces us to change our routines. We slow down when we drive, if we drive at all. We get up earlier and see a part of the morning we normally miss (or if it's bad enough we sleep late). Snow almost forces us to be more meditative.

Newton tells us that for every action, there is an equal and opposite re-action. Snow's equal and opposite is a fire in the fireplace. Dramatically different, but a perfect compliment after the sun goes down.

Snow tastes like snow-cones!

Snow makes me sing. Specifically, it makes me sing "Sleigh Ride" and "Winter Wonderland." I'm not a great singer, but snow makes these songs spill out of my mouth.

P.S. Happy Valentine's Day and Chinese New Year!

Parable of the Unfaithful Servant

The splendor of Shadiyakh was the righteousness of its citizens. As such, the old gods despised it – for they understood mankind’s impulse to conquer. “If humanity overcomes their own nature, then we ourselves would be subdued by them in time. We can never allow such purity of heart to prosper.”

The old gods could not look directly upon the city due to the brightness of its sacredness, so they sought the services of a human agent. This emissary would reveal Shadiyakh’s location that they might lay waste to the city and its citizens.

Raoe’s voice was a river stone tossed in a wishing well. His firm belief that anything could be corrupted earned him the blessing of the old gods. He would enter the town, tempt its citizens and dim the piety that blinded his masters. The old gods would leave no two stones upon one another. “I shall instill avarice among the citizens, for their city has no commerce and they are humble.” Raoe said.

“Make it so, for our wrath must be sated.”

Raoe knew a fall from grace is deplorable and destruction could arouse pity. He wanted to increase his own infamy and bargained with the old gods. Raoe was full of vanity when he replied, “If I can corrupt fifty citizens, build a market, make the women jealous and the men greedy, would you spare the city and allow envy to fester?”
“For fifty, we would spare the city.”

Raoe took treasures from the Forge of the Gods – blown glass with miniature cities built within, wheelbarrows that pushed themselves with fire and water, winged metal insects that have yet to be catalogued of colors that have yet to be described and other wonders. Each item was unique and uniquely suited to inspire desire in the hearts of men.

Raoe was met in Shadiyakh with hospitality and warmth.

“I have come to share the wealth of the world, join me in my extravagance,” he invited. But he was perplexed by the contentment of the citizenry. Eventually, he bartered away his treasures. As he left, the inhabitants apologized their little hamlet was too small to support such luxury.

**********

On returning to the Abominable Mountain, Raoe reported his failure to the old gods. They were pleased, for long it had been since thunderbolts were hurled at humanity. Raoe was not easily dissuaded. “I shall return and instill fear among the citizens, for their city has no wall and they are vulnerable.” Raoe said.
“Make it so, for our wrath must be sated.”

But Raoe was full of arrogance and said, “If I can corrupt ten citizens, build ramparts and make the women cower and the men violent, would you spare the city and allow warmongering to fester?”

“For ten, we would spare the city.”

Raoe took weapons from the Armory of the Gods – spears whose heads launched to a distance, powders that mix to make fire, arrows that split in the air like rain and other wonders. Each item was fearsome in design and suited to inspire terror in the hearts of men.

Raoe returned to Shadiyakh and was received as a friend.

“As a merchant, your generosity and kindness moved my spirit. For this reason I must tell you that your neighbors covet your lands and your daughters. Take arms with me,” he invited, “and we will defend what is ours.” But he was baffled by the security of the citizenry. Eventually, his weapons were politely used for farming and construction. As he left, the inhabitants apologized for being poor warriors for even the young men loved peace.

**********

On returning to the Abominable Mountain, Raoe reported his failure to the old gods. They were pleased, for long it had been since the sea drowned the lands of humanity. Raoe was not easily dissuaded.

“I shall return and instill doubt among the citizens, for their city has only one faith and they are unsophisticated.”

“Make it so, for our wrath must be sated.”

But Raoe was full of pride and said, “If I can corrupt one citizen, found a temple and make a woman our missionary or a man an idolater, would you spare the city and allow sacrilege to fester?”

“For one, we would spare the city.”

Raoe took artifacts from the Thrones of the Gods – idols that could cry and spit, foods that transport the mind into the realms of the gods, golden golems in the shape of men and beasts that patrolled of their own accord and other wonders. Each item was magnificent to behold and suited to inspire profanity in the hearts of men.

Raoe returned to Shadiyakh and was met from far off like an uncle.

“There are dark gods who fear your righteousness. They see their own obsolescence in your future and have intentions to destroy you. Join me in worship of them,” he invited, “so their wrath may be sated.” But he was astounded by the faithfulness of the citizenry. Eventually, he resigned himself that temptation could not distract them from their devotion.

Raoe did not return to the Abominable Mountain. He could not bear another failure under the expectant eyes of the old gods. Instead, he bought a house in Shadiyakh. He furnished it with as many of the treasures as he could reclaim. He worked with the people during the day and would praise the old gods at night. He became familiar and taught their children, all the while praying to the altar in his home. In time, he applied for citizenship and the ruling counsel granted him permanent residence within the city.

**********

Raoe’s prayers led the old gods like the faint smell of rot to Shadiyakh. The sky darkened with low, ominous clouds. The mountains creaked in trepidation. The sea pulled away from the shore in apprehension. Raoe took to the highest tower in the city.

“You who are Everlong, why have you come?”

“We have heard your prayer and it is our volition to lay waste to this city and its citizens. You have done well to lead us here, though our patience was tried.” The voice was like fire leaking up from the earth.

“You cannot. You yourself agreed that if one citizen were an idolater and if a temple were founded, then you would allow sacrilege to fester. You cannot destroy the wicked with the pious.” Raoe explained he was the faithless one and his house was the temple.

The laughter of gods sounds pleasant only to the insane. “We shall not be mocked. You deceive yourself. Indeed you are a citizen, but a citizen in full. You have looted the Storehouses of the Gods and given divine ambrosia to simpletons. Though you present yourself a tomb, your heart seeks peace and comfort. You have been so thoroughly corrupted with self-sacrifice that you would debase yourself for the love of this city. Even now, your soul seeks to protect Shadiyakh and your lovingkindess has been credited as righteousness. We will proceed with our dread intention for we do not see even one who is wicked among you. Our wrath must be sated.”

With that proclamation lightning struck the tower, a wall of sea rose up from the shore, brimstone rained from the skies and the mountains melted into the plain. Raoe, the adopted son of Shadiyakh, was the first to die.

Two Videos and a Dream

There are two videos I can't stop watching lately.

Cheryl Cole doesn't want her videos embedded, so you'll have to follow the link to 3 Words, but it's worth a watch in HD.

I'm also watching (though less fervently):



Last night I dreamed I wasn't myself. More precisely, a me that never was. Like a me that had played football, had a few concussions and whose conscience was suppressed by basic training.

I'm on my stomach crawling through a silver air duct. I light my way with an over-sized flashlight. The beam reflects blindingly off the shiny artificial burrow and then creates false shadows. I'm cramping because I can't change my position; my shoulders don't fit. My shoes squeak as I push myself through. I turn a corner and find the body I'm supposed to bring back. It's just shreds of raw meat in clothes to me. I don't even acknowledge it could have been a person once.

I hear it first. I thought it was just the body scraping the metal cocoon, but this is bone and fingernails. I smell it next. Considering I'm toting a cadaver, that's significant. I can't flee, the duct is too tight. I just wait. It's at the bend ahead and I shine my light to where it should appear.

The thing is dark and I can percieve a long nose. I'm certain there's long teeth underneath. It's crouching in a hunt and it's not hampered by the close quarters. It leaps and I shove the flashlight into its muzzle. Glass shatters and everything goes dark.