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