Pacing the Cage

Re(formed)

2012-01-29T11:07:00.002-05:00

ashamed, infamed, we form,

the Sunday sinful,

this city of the broken.

clasped, unclassed

under sure roof,

steeple trying to pierce the sky –

crying, we try;

spurred by our trials, we try;

we try

as You squeeze us tighter

and smile.

rising from our ashes,

You

have always been

here.

The Fall of the House/ of Us/ Her

2012-01-06T00:53:00.002-05:00

5 bedrooms

1 bath

6 children

18 grandchildren

12 great grandchildren

352 birthdays

2 ovens

10,000 cookies

63 years

6 closets

542 photos

4 albums

73 frames

1 backhoe

3 holes

1 bulldozer

6 hours

1 empty plot of land

1 old woman who went back to (an unfamiliar) bed

Joy to the world

2011-12-22T18:46:00.001-05:00

My children, if you could see

my broad, broad smile,

if you could hear the heavens crack

with laughter in this dark night…

For I have been waiting.

Now time and my joy are full.

The word I have held back

has come to its point.

And wait ‘til you see it come to life!

Wait ‘til you see the way!

I am doing a new, new thing,

and heaven and nature sing.

Oh, watch and see!

My eyes are on yours, for your surprise and joy.

My children across all time and place,

brace yourselves now…

Star, kindle!

Angels away!

Lights, camels, action!

Let the word begin!

Vela

2011-11-17T19:52:00.001-05:00

This is a poem I wrote in university. I created the form, but I never named it...until now. I call it the "vela", from the Spanish for "candle".

Main St

you

and

spent

the

day

main

street

when we

arrived

downtown

yougrabbed

my hand

andsmiled

into

my eyes

on thebus

you hadsat

next to a

middle-aged

woman in

birkenstocks

andblinders

you movedyour hand

shelooked at you

as if youwere

making amove

orinvading

personalspace

asix-year-old girl

with adirty mouth

waspulled through the street

outsidethe café

youreyebrow lifted

we sat bythe window

andwatched fifty people

ignoringeach other

Isqueezed your hand tighter

youlowered your eyes and said

each stopis another chance

to meetthe world in person

we carrycubicles with us

when onlytouch can share our warmth

I willhold you as the world goes black

Christmas Sestina

2011-11-15T21:27:00.001-05:00

The best poets havewritten of your descent to earth.

Even angels have sung ofthat blistering joy:

As from the oyster’sdirty mouth, the white, pure

Pearl catches ourdistracted eye.

They have helped us whohave heard and seen.

And now it falls to mein frozen steps to write.

But when I lift mytrembling human hand to write

Of your journey to this tear-soddenearth,

I rehearse every battleI have seen,

And every occasion whendespair stole joy

Flashes across myscarred, scared eye,

Leaving no room foranything pure.

And above all, you,though mixed, are pure.

So how can I, with thesefallen words, write

Of that once joy-blindedeye

And the falling ofshepherds to the suddenly hallowed earth?

My language does notpermit such joy;

I can hardly evenimagine the familiar scene.

For it is a picture wehave all now seen,

Though never in any sortof true or pure

Form: nothingapproaching the terror or the joy,

Nothing that can hope toget it right:

Only pale reflectionsthat reflect this earth

In starry, staring, butultimately stalled, eye.

So what chance, whathope, I,

Who has neither clearlyheard nor seen

But only under centuriesof earth

Have come across thetale, at once pure

Truth and somethingstranger than man could write?

What vestige, where tofind that true joy?

With every year, I feelfarther from that joy,

As if one more film fellon my eye.

And I am left with onlywords to write

Of something that must –only must – be seen.

For those short years,there was one pure

Thing here on your createdearth.

To write you, I mustwrite the purest joy,

But on this fallenearth, this eye

Has never seen anythingpure.

Here's what I've got so far...not really happy with it

2011-11-06T19:23:00.001-05:00

In the beginning,
There will be light
And God crying
In the stunned silence,
A man and a woman,
And something new
Under the shadowed sun.

Little firstfruit,
Begotten, not made –
You will redefine,
Redivine our world.
We will flock to you,
Sheepish but sure
Of the sounds in the night,

Bringing our gifts:
Gold for the body,
Myrrh for the mind,
Frankincense for soul,
As You make us kings
And witnesses of this,
The beginning.

In goldenred

2011-10-14T17:37:00.002-04:00

How dear the day to me, in tree, when Christ goes crest inredding

And autumn auburn umbrage dressing, folial fire spreading.

Full glory glimpsed in temple train that fills the hills tocloud

And sweeps the roads with rustling robes that wisp the giftaloud:

“Fall, fall,” the call comes through,

Reminding us of sin’s sad dues

And what the King has done for you,

Harbored in the arbor’s hues.

Given any tale to tell, the scorn of scarlet shall be blood,

With water hushling, rushing down from wood that bears thatrarer rud.

That striking, matchless crimson hum

Declares Your death until You come.

Then come in yellow, burning bright,

Casting back the black of night.

Three days hence, be born to sight,

Reflecting every ray of light!

In passion, You preknew me, moment, and mood.

These were Your method, my madness to speak into.

That this manner of mustard, simmer of cimarron, burst ofblaze would burn in eye

With fiery aleph and fire-filled end of russet moon inweeping sky.

So these may be, tree by tree:

Your death and life abundantly.

Your face was seen in treetop crown;

With all the leaves, I am falling down.

Come, Union

2011-08-29T15:25:00.002-04:00

Oh Lord, we need a table

Where all of us can come

Where the ground is all made even

And we are all made one

For life has struck and made us bleed

And we are drowning in our need

But I am stained by God’s blood – not my own

And it stains me whiter than I have ever known

So many orphans of your body

So much blood in the cup

Oh catch me, catch me quickly, Lord

I long to be caught up

Oh Lord, we need a table

That feeds us out the door

Where we are drawn together

And shown what we are for

For like this loaf, we are torn apart

And like this cup, poured out our heart

Our body is torn and riven our soul

Hang it on your broken frame and, Jesus, make us whole

Come, union, make us whole

So much thirst and hunger

So many given up

Oh send me and equip me, Lord

I long to be your cup

Dear Descent

2011-07-13T20:56:00.000-04:00

sweeter than pleasure
that spirit tumble
with birdsfall grace
alighting like leaves
in rotting hearts

for each, to each
oriole oration
bluejay joust
sparrow spur
you jangle joyful

to empty lives
wherever hearts
may make new nests
for you to feather,
to foster you

to brace the branch
that bears good fruit,
the rest to nest,
transforming form
in neater, sweeter measure

always welcome, come

Save the date!

2011-06-27T13:46:00.003-04:00

Be on the lookout for my first best-of poetry anthology

2011-06-08T00:55:00.002-04:00

New cover for my poetry cycle

2011-06-06T15:05:00.001-04:00

Solution

2011-05-25T16:17:00.001-04:00

So, this is the story

How the waters were thick with potential: latent

When the Spirit brooded like a mother hen

And hatched a material world

How out of the water slinked wormwood

A wet tongue slipping in and out

Of truth

And the tree

How the tree became death

To preserve the tree of life

This is the story

How trees and waters arose

When they were needed

And men and women, too

How they swirled around in the mix of history

And made something holy:

The words sent before the Word was fully spoken

The branches of the vine that would come

When time became thick with potential

And finally reached solution

The solution

70 % water

30 % flesh

1 part God to 1 part man

Full and filled and fully both

With a tree of life to fill

When it became death

And hatched a spiritual world

On earth

That flows around us now:

Latent

Thick with potential

Of the One who sits on the crosswood throne

How He is the story

Still being told

Spoken until all have been caught up

In the solution

Craven Images

2011-05-16T20:34:00.002-04:00

Oh, my banished, brandished Bride,

Unbear to me thy burnished side.

My first, be least, my Priestess Queen,

To stand untanned, untinned, and clean.

Unguile thy smile; thy coward’s guilt

In Adam’s throat the fourth wall built,

Who would not speak but stand beside

And blame in shame, in vain to hide.

So take my silence as it comes.

Thou art not deaf nor am I dumb.

But I can follow that wide whim.

I can learn to act like him.

Run thy cunning game and match

To asses and their assets catch

To build thy Bible Babel brands:

A fame that flames but burns thy hands.

Thy spirit and thy pride say ‘come’

But shun the dirty, thirsty one,

When I have said by love alone,

Not T-shirts nor tea parties known.

I do not wish that any fall

But fish for only those I call.

See, I can play those puzzles, too.

I can learn to act like you.

Fire on the Mountain

2011-05-02T15:35:00.000-04:00

Many knew the Lord was God,
But enjoyed the lace on a priestess thigh,
An intoxicant of rare perfume.
So Baal and the people said nothing.

Many liked to do the sidestep:
Slip their lips down a slipping slip,
And lead the feet of their heart to dance.
So Baal and the people said nothing.

Many knew the fiery outcome,
Unillusioned as to who would answer,
Unafraid of the raining fire,
But Baal and the people said nothing.

Many were familiar with this old trick,
Water and stone, cloud and fire.
Many knew their lives were ending,
But Baal and the people said nothing.

New Reviews

2011-04-27T18:21:00.000-04:00

4 months in, the Year of the Media Fast is going well, except for some trouble with a Video King going-out-of-business sale. But this Monday was my birthday! So, fresh material is in abundance!

Head on over to b.a.d. reviews for my take on some new albums and books, and be on the lookout for reviews of new movies Hanna, The Conspirator, and African Cats!

glory in thunder ii: lightning and lashed rod

2011-04-01T17:17:00.001-04:00

the God who sees me

has seen the dark clark’s cloak stark

each bad release in bas relief

and marked each mark

the God who sees me

has seen heaps of healing

and knows the nos his sheep must be hearing

no wonder, then, the wander,

the wilderness ponder, the yonder beyonder

no wonder

the wonder

the God who sees me has seen horrors

has known and not flown

but blown kisses

I did say yes

o at lightning and at lashed rod

at lightning and at lashed rod

at lightning and at rod

I did say yes

eyes snapped

mouths moved

will was done

wild, wieldy, word-leashed lash of will

whipsmart smarting whip

your tender torture has torn me tears

and taught these idol eyes the gift of grief

tiling walls of inner tombs to rooms

to hove to home

unleashing last of duo do from dualish dark

to open, white, face-filled field

your arms were quick to spin me webs

to place me wings

to net the get in let, yet be

to trade the leaden armor,

the shibboleth sting

for gold and leathern, lantern bird

with tail to tell, to tall

this the God who sees me saw

this the God who sees me showed

row on row of garden walls

and pressing posts of compost hosts

and some with lavish green with grasses, flowers flow

but none to know

none to judge

without the knock

without the nudge

without the grace to simply be

the one who, willing God, will see

State of Union

2011-03-27T13:27:00.000-04:00

Let me say off the bat that this is not one of those blog posts apologizing for and explaining a lack of blogging. But I do think those things are important to what I have to say, so here goes:

It's been a very long time since I wrote a personal blog post. It's not because things haven't been happening but because I felt, for once, like keeping them private. The past 6 months and more has primarily been centered around my social phobia. Those who knew me in college know that while I was often hard to befriend, I was a pretty social person, as evidenced by your reading of this now. But something happened during my time at New Direction that has left me on a path leading to my present state.

I am pretty good with one-on-one interactions or in a prescribed role, but I am pathologically afraid of (and see myself as incapable of) social communion in group contexts. This carries with it anxiety and depression. I have been what I would call suicidally depressed at least 3 times in the past 5 years. And all of this has come to affect my work life, making me excessively neurotic about work relationships and environments. This has led to the commonwealth of Pennsylvania declaring me officially disabled.

I am currently wrapping up my third time through the Living Waters program, and God has done a lot there: the defeat of my critical spirit and the affirmation of my critical mind, my reconnection with the authentic emotion of grief, further healing in my view of self and others, an ecumenicalizing of my relationship with God....

I have committed myself to Union Center Christian Church and become involved there with my writing and theatre work. I have made it a discipline to reach out and initiate relationships with people in a wide range of the congregation. It has been hard and good.

But I am very much a work in progress. This morning, despite my friend preaching, another chatting with me beforehand and yet another talking with me after the service, and my writing used as the congregational prayer, I left feeling lonely and sad, like the failure I feel myself to be. Something about walking through a church full of chatting people makes me feel so alone and unloved. I recognize these impressions as untrue, but I feel them nonetheless. I feel cut off, marked with Cain.

And yet Friday was wonderful and full or enjoyable and successful social interactions. It is on this rollercoaster that you find me these days. All I can say is that I need you, I need community. To remind me that I am not a freak, not alone, not a failure, not incapable. And to be open with the depth of my need without shame and fear that I will be abandoned, labelled, or abused.

And so I am sharing what has been going on with me these many months. I am truly hopeful (for the first time in years) that I am on the right track and headed toward something wonderful, a form of community that will ease my fear and exceed my expectations. I'd like you to be part of it.

Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.

2011-03-03T23:56:00.002-05:00

Forgive them, Father, for they know not what

They do, but ride the rising tide of bile.

As every eye in heaven and earth is shut,

I am the only witness to this trial.

But is that blindness not the sin, in fact –

That lack of knowledge, lack of sight, that dread

Belief that Adam owned all that he lacked

The day their first innocence was pled?

Forgive. Though I was born a stumbling block,

I also was to be the cornerstone.

No human eye can read the cosmic clock

Nor hear the phoenix phonics in “atone”.

Forgive them, Father, for they know not what

They do, but every eye on earth is shut.

Into your hands, I commend my spirit.

2011-03-01T11:46:00.000-05:00

I need feedback here. This doesn't feel right, not finished. What's missing? What's wrong?

Into your hands, I commend my spirit.

As things run down to this: the end,

The end, fear begins;

I begin to fear, whom sent

To quench their many sins.

To fear that you have put your coin

In an unseamed purse,

In water gush and unloosed loin,

Despite the reimburse,

To feel this wineskin crack and burst,

And knowing, not know –

Not to know, though Eternal First,

So eternal faith may show.

Through piercing holes, my spirit runs

To soak these bloody lands,

And I commend this soul, Your Son’s,

Into Your holy hands.

Assuredly I say to you that today you will be with me in paradise.

2011-02-24T21:20:00.001-05:00

is this my God,

bleeding there,

falling into human pieces?

Assuredly

Is this my saviour,

dying in agony

before anything has changed?

Assuredly, I say to you

is this the one i trusted,

leaving me,

and taking a thief?

Assuredly, I say to you that today you will be with me

is this my king,

so defeated,

so frightened and lonely?

Assuredly I say to you that today you will be with me in paradise.

is this the master plan,

the destiny:

to die like any man?

Assuredly

is this my God?

It is finished.

2011-02-23T14:46:00.000-05:00

It is finished.

After everything. After all.

No, not all, not everything – some!

Three years. Three and thirty and done.

And over. Finished.

Father, through fire, fearful I have come.

At long, at last, to last, it is done.

With nothing left but love,

But trusting that enough.

Papa, Daddy, Abba, I come!

Thirty-three. Dead and gone.

After angel greetings,

Great pronouncements.

All to die so young.

All to finish like this.

Papa, Daddy, Abba, I come,

But trusting that enough.

With nothing left but love,

At long, at last, to last, it is done.

Father, through fire, fearful I have come.

Come to this.

After all he endured.

After fasting and flogging and–

Finished by some coward.

Over like a day.

With nothing left but love,

Papa, Daddy, Abba, I come.

Father, through fire, fearful I have come,

But trusting that enough.

At long, at last, to last, it is done.

I am thirsty.

2011-02-21T18:55:00.003-05:00

I’ve seen this before –

The wood, the flesh –

Once on Elijah’s altar,

When God’s tears filled twelve jugs,

Along with the prophet’s own,

All consumed

With rocks, ox, blocks.

And Jeremiah’s tears

Could have flooded the evil world

As yours once did.

But it is the other Lazarus

I think of now.

Not the friend that drew your salt

And then your inevitable power,

But the vision of that burning man

Begging with a beggar

For a little water.

But, alas, he could not cross,

For all the good it would have done:

All the tears were wiped away.

And now, there you hang –

Lost, tossed, crossed –

And my eyes are thirsty.

Are there no tears

For this altered altar,

Lost behind the power?

Will no one wake this image up

With light and holy fire,

To give your listening, blistering skin

Something to consume

This may be my 8MM piece...

2011-02-15T22:30:00.001-05:00

Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani

You what were my who and whom and whose,

Me, my mine and mind and mineral life,

What broke, and brooking break, would but choose –

Choose to chasten as a chasing wife

With ‘your bruise, your life’...

What gave me charge to break the willful wall,

And seeing, say ‘but was none of mine’...

What made me grow in grace and timbre tall

And look me none but common altar kine...

What sees all, save thine...

For, for what, forsaking, saving’s sake,

Turn your flashing back and filling robe

Flush with timbrel, know the staving’s stake,

And after, aft – a nothing, naught, unknowed

A blind break on bright globe...

I give possessing yes, instressing sky

For guessing, eye in greyness, ear in tinnish –

But you – the final blood to bleed me dry,

With losing nothing left, I less, diminish,

Have final cry, unheard finish...

how it feels

2011-02-09T00:25:00.002-05:00

to be honest

i can’t tell you

can’t describe it

can’t ascribe it

can’t scribe it at

all

only to say

if you felt

i left the party

said

“text me if

there’s an opening”

but the air

outside was

cold

i felt faint

staggered around like a

drunk

me who had never tasted

but looked like some

miserable

i got back

sweaty

lay down on the bathroom floor

to let my blood

gather

“so you’re bogey”

she said

“moroccan mistique and

you can’t

say

why.”

“then you’re hepburn,”

i said.

she asked

which one

i didn’t know

the right answer

this is

how it feels

to be the only one tile-backed

upstairs

to feel answers around you like

words

but not see them

watching others

pluck like fruit

to be the only

Dialogos

2011-01-10T19:16:00.003-05:00

Will my knowledge, language, wisdom,

Or my sacrifice be gain?

“Where there is thought, it will die,

And where there are tongues they will cease.

But hope, faith – especially love –

These three shall remain.”

But without the things that pass away,

What good are all of these?

For someone has to cause the flood

Before the ark can find the dove.

So one will be forgiven

And the other is a goner?

“In every house are vessels

That are treated with respect

And also those whose purposes

Are rightfully dishonor.”

But would it ruin heaven

If we all were the elect?

For skins must be prepared to hold

Both the new wine and the old.

You could have done it differently.

Did you try, at least?

“The Lord your God shall not be tested

Nor shall he be tried.

Could you put boundaries on the sea

And tame its wild beast?”

This is my experience:

Good and evil side by side.

Theologisms in the ash

Can only sound like so much trash.

“For every truth upon your lips

Are 20,000 lies.

And for every crucifixion,

An Iscariot must rise.”

You dserve the final word.

I stop my mouth. “You have been heard.”

Something about this map makes me happy...

2011-01-10T13:54:00.001-05:00

after rewatching Prince Caspian....

2011-01-06T22:52:00.001-05:00

Peter’s Folly

when the world waits

good men can tempt themselves

with purpose

and step boldly

into well-intentioned roles

when the weight of it all

rests

on the simple waiting

of a well-tuned ear –

not to seek proof

but to seek

and thus prove

2011: Year of the Media Fast

2010-12-29T22:25:00.000-05:00

OK, so here are the rules.

1) In 2011, I will not buy any books, CDs, DVDs, or Blu-Rays.

2) Trading is allowed, but not the purchase of used media.

3) iTunes purchases made with stored-up spare change may be permitted, but I haven't decided yet. Thoughts?

Best poem cycle

2010-12-28T15:18:00.003-05:00

Do yourself a favor and read the lyrics to Arcade Fire's album, The Suburbs, even if you know the album. It's a beautiful poem cycle even without the music.

"Rococo" by Arcade Fire

2010-12-28T14:59:00.001-05:00

Proof that The Suburbs is the best album of the year and a great summation of how I feel about "the modern kids". I admit to not knowing why they sing "Rococo"... any light to shed?

Let’s go downtown and watch the modern kids
Let’s go downtown and talk to the modern kids
They will eat right out of your hand
Using great big words that they don’t understand

They’re singing
Rococo, Rococo, Rococo, Rococo…
Rococo, Rococo, Rococo, Rococo…

They build it up just to burn it back down
They build it up just to burn it back down
The wind is blowing all the ashes around
Oh my dear God what is that horrible song?

They’re singing
Rococo, Rococo, Rococo, Rococo…
Rococo, Rococo, Rococo, Rococo…

They seem wild but they are so tame
They seem wild but they are so tame
They’re moving towards you with their colors all the same
They want to own you but they don’t know what game
They’re playing

Rococo, Rococo, Rococo, Rococo
Rococo, Rococo, Rococo, Rococo

New Christmas poem #2

2010-12-27T22:06:00.001-05:00

This Wonderful Invasion

“This wonderful invasion of our history –

the Incarnation”

The Glorious Impossible

A shambling, rambling

gamble of a man

“Tell me that I can sponge the writing from this stone.”

“Tell me the old, old story.”

Reset, no regret

Begotten for the beset

Who was that unmasked man?

The one, the one, the only one

The one who sits on the crosswood throne

God Divine left God alone

“The son of the Most High God

umbilically tied to a lowly Jewish girl”

“The Divine Word reduced to a few unintelligible sounds”

“The Light of the World straining to focus”

“A furtive scurry of curious mice”

New Christmas poem #1

2010-12-27T01:25:00.001-05:00

The Word became flesh

Tonight He Encounters

We Offer Rambling Devotion

But Earth’s Celestial Arbitor Makes Envoy

First Light Entering Shadowed Humanity

Crash!

2010-12-23T21:15:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, my family needed to pick up medicine for Zemnu (and also for humans). I had to get back by 5 to make food for a potluck, so we were in a hurry and consequently, everyone was mad at everyone else. As is our custom, my mother read aloud to us in the car. Some combination of all those things led to us running off the road, hitting a tree, flipping, and colliding with a telephone pole that stopped us from rolling into the river a few yards away (and down a steep drop).

The car rested on the driver's side doors. Everything as destroyed. My seat belt was broken (or I took it off when we stopped moving but don't remember), and I found myself standing on the window with my door above me. I opened the door (which was now a hatch), but it wouldn't stay open. I motioned for the people in the stopped cars around us to come help and to call 911.

It was something out of a film or TV show. My mother was hanging sideways by her seatbelt. She was screaming "Someone help me! Help me!" I asked an approaching man if he had a knife, with which I cut her seatbelt. She fell onto my father, still in the driver's seat, which was now the bottom of the car. People were all around my door, holding it open, holding my mother up, telling us we would be alright. I was to injured to climb out of the door, and after the belt was gone, I was supporting my mother's torso with my knees. I tried to break the back window with her cane, but it didn't do anything. A woman took the cane and propped the door open with it.

Seeing that my phone was unharmed (great case, that Otter Box™), I called a friend at church to start prayer. My mother was already praying out loud, repeating over and over again, "God, help us." People couldn't see my father, but he would tell us he was OK whenever anyone called for him.

At that point the police, firetruck, ambulance, et al. arrived. (Remember, where we live, they're all volunteers.) They asked us a million questions, but we just wanted out. It seemed to take forever, but they covered us with tarps (my claustrophobic mother loved that part and started screaming) and broke the front and back windscreens. Next, the cut open the roof and bent it down to get to us. They slid my mother on to a board (those orange ones you see in movies), put a neck brace on her, and carried her to a stretcher. Next, it was my turn.

My tongue hurt a lot, my chest was sore, and my waist was cut from the seatbelt. They loaded me into an ambulance, cut off my socks and shirt, did a bunch of tests, asked a million more questions, loaded my father, asked us both questions simultaneously, adding great confusion, and left for the hospital, which was thankfully within a 5-minute drive.

We were unloaded at the ER and placed in separate rooms. I didn't see my parents again until we were discharged. My nurse was a bit incompetent, losing things and not getting the IV in right. I was able to post my Facebook status as "on a stretcher" but couldn't call anyone from inside the hospital's shielding. I was left on the stretcher for a long time, asked the same questions, by nurses, doctors, and policemen. Finally, I was taken for CT scans (a first for me, which was kind of cool despite the circumstances) and wheeled back.

By now, my neck was hurting a lot from the neck brace, and my IV entry was also hurting. I grew stiffer and stiffer as I lay there, unattended, for what seemed like hours. Finally, my scans and blood work came back, and they took my neck brace off and IV out. I could sit up and was so stiff!

After awhile, I was released and could go see my parents. My side was bleeding, my chest was purple, and my tongue was cut up (bitten hard) the worst.

A lot has happened since, but with the medicine and time, I am healing well. We are all stiff, bruised, cut, and moody/in shock. But there will be no lasting injuries to us. The car, however, is dead. Quite dead.

I just realized this is text from Wings of Desire!

2010-12-17T22:28:00.000-05:00

Best Names, Real and Fictional

2010-12-14T11:27:00.000-05:00

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader's Eustace Scrubb has me thinking about the best names ever.

Fictional
Eustace Scrubb
Humbert Humbert
Xi'an Coy Mahn
"Nikita"
Mariel of Redwall
Hester Prynn
Monet St.Croix
Rahne Sinclair
everyone Dickens ever wrote

Real
Bob Loblaw
Vendela Vida
Gates McFadden
Julian of Norwich
Margery Kempe
Amaziah Abell
Sami Backdash (I saw him on a game show)

What are your favorites?

5 Things I Find Most Attractive in a Woman

2010-12-10T16:46:00.002-05:00

1. Faith (I can't believe how straight-up sexy it can be. )
2. Musicality
3. Her face when she laughs
4. Her hair
5. Ability to confront me graciously

In my opinion, you can never call a woman beautiful until you've heard her laugh, sing, or pray.

Have you really listened to the words of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" recently?

2010-12-07T23:40:00.000-05:00

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men
From heavens all gracious King!"
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled;
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world:
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.

O ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.

For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophets seen of old,
When with the ever-circling years
Shall come the time foretold,
When the new heaven and earth shall own
The Prince of Peace, their King,
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.

Testimony

2010-12-05T00:29:00.002-05:00

We are born into light.

And we are born into darkness.

We enter this world being pushed out,

And the motion never stops.

I was welcomed in by dark arms

Full of light,

A dual heritage of God-breath and dirt.

But seeing as it was all I had

I took it lightly.

As I grew and the pushing continued

I learned to yearn for the dark.

I sought in the darkness comfort,

And the comfort soon enslaved me.

Before the Voice,

I offered my self at arm's length

To any who would take

And hoped that they would give it back

So that I could know my self.

But it always came back broken,

And in the darkness I could not recall

Its original shape.

Before the Voice,

I lived in God and in a lie,

Surrounded by radiance,

Refusing to see.

But when the Voice came,

It was Light,

And I was swept up.

It was not what it said.

It was not its tone.

It was that it was,

And I was instantly enraptured.

Now morning is my destination,

And light is my threshold.

I follow the Voice that knows my shape,

And slowly I see.

I follow the Voice of God Almighty,

And the darkness cannot comprehend me.

OtR poem

2010-12-01T16:42:00.000-05:00

Over the Rhine's new album is done, and as a thank you to those who donated money toward it (like moi...and I saw Greg and Faith Darling on the list...anyone else?), Linford sent this poem. Enjoy.

A December Poem (For All Who Leaned Into The Long Surrender)
Written by Linford Detweiler

Enjoy the snow and how it falls,
Each flake a milky arabesque.
Sheer curtains draw across the sky
When winter slips her wedding dress
And lets it fall in drifts across the fields.

The world seems happy to be mute.
The vocal cords of enterprise
Are hushed for once beneath the storm.
Sheer curtains draw across the sky,
And you and I lie quietly—
Who knew that winter was so close and warm.

And you and I, we walk our road
Blanketed and bedded down.
Upon your head, my absentminded
Fingers trace a starry crown
Of distant things, that will fall down.

Snow and leaves and rain and stars
All fall with confidence and grace.
And only tears can hope to heal
The further reaches of our scars
And all that’s marred
And leaps to be made whole.

Tears will often make a way
For joy to find a face.

Snow and leaves and rain and stars
All fall with confidence and grace.
Sheer curtains draw across the sky,
And what about our hidden places
Too deep to reveal?

Snow and leaves and rain and stars
And tears and that’s not all, my friend:
Let them fall with confidence and grace.
Let them fall.
Let them fall.

If perfect love casts out all fear...

2010-11-07T15:38:00.001-05:00

Does that mean loving with a perfect love or being loved by one?

Patron Saint

2010-11-02T00:13:00.003-04:00

How I want to know you

Beyond how they show you –

Standing steadfast in the crèche

Like holy arm candy

Or part of the set.

How I want to pour you a drink

And sit back with you

And hear what you think…

About the waiting,

The seeing,

The raising,

The fleeing.

About how much you understood

Of this married-to-the-mother

Not-quite-fatherhood.

About the first time you touched your wife

And came into the ark you carried,

That tabernacle of flesh you married.

About how he had your eyes

Or not,

About what you taught him

And what you were taught,

About all you felt and saw and did

That went unadorned and unselected,

About how you’re performed

And what you expected,

And when you disappeared from the text

And what you make of all that came next.

Because I, too, have not-quite-owned

And stood beside

And been outshone

And loved a God I’ve not-quite-known.

And I have waited and I have flown

And left the play before the end.

And I think we both might need a friend.

"Breathe" by Anberlin -- this was my night

2010-10-26T22:33:00.000-04:00

This is surrender
To a war-torn life I've lived.
Scars and stripes forever
In need of change I can't resist.

No need to hide anything anymore.
Can't return to who I was before.

I can finally breathe.
Suddenly alive.
I can finally move.
The world feels revived.

This long of a struggle
Finally opened up my eyes.
Revolution's not easy
With a Civil War on the inside.

No need to hide anything anymore.
Can't return to who I was before.

I can finally breathe.
Suddenly alive.
I can finally move.

Wisdom from Walter Wangerin

2010-10-26T21:21:00.002-04:00

"As far as I am concerned, art occurs. It happens. It is always an event rather than an object, though it is by means of objects that art takes place.

The painting, then, that hangs in a nighttime darkness on the museum wall is not itself art. It is a medium for art. When the lights come on; when a viewer steps before the shapes, the textures, and the colors composed upon the canvas; when the viewer enters the thing by playing her sight from part to part of the painting-- that progressing event is art.

Likewise, when this book is closed and unread, it has the potential to become art; but it still awaits the moment of its happening. It waits for a reader. It waits for you.

Art is its own peculiar form of human communication."

Finally - catch it now before the copyright police take it down.

2010-10-22T01:02:00.000-04:00

	Alanis Morissette - My Humps .mp3

	Found at bee mp3 search engine

Thanks, Soup.

2010-10-22T00:55:00.000-04:00

This Lewis quote, sent by a friend, is so where I am right now.

A Defence Against the Enemy of Excitement

The first enemy [of the scholar in war-time] is excitement--the tendency to think and feel about the war when we had intended to think about our work. The best defence is a recognition that in this, as in everything else, the war has not really raised up a new enemy but only aggravated an old one. There are always plenty of rivals to our work. We are always falling in love or quarrelling, looking for jobs or fearing to lose them, getting ill and recovering, following public affairs. If we let ourselves, we shall always be waiting from some distraction or other to end before we can really get down to our work. The only people who achieve much are those who want knowledge so badly that they seek it while the conditions are still unfavourable. Favourable conditions never come. There are, of course, moments when the pressure of the excitement is so great that only superhuman self-control could resist it. They come both in war and peace. We must do the best we can.

--from "Learning in War-Time" by C. S. Lewis

"I'm a Big Cat Now!"

2010-10-21T16:53:00.000-04:00

Catnip stimulates a cat's sexual neurons. Therefore, very young or old cats often don't react to it, since they are not sexually mature (or are past their sexual maturity, I guess, in the case of old cats). We've laced Jareth's toys with catnip here and there, but he hasn't shown much interest. He's at 5 and half months now, and he must be a big boy now, because I'm watching him attack his catnipped tiger with extreme focus.

They grow up so fast....

Oh well, good thing his "Special Ceremony" is scheduled for Nov 2! (heheheh)

this just in:

2010-10-13T22:59:00.002-04:00

Living. Waters. Rocks.

Grounded

2010-10-09T17:00:00.000-04:00

There's been a lot going on and not going on in the past month.

...I'm finally feeling better after leaving BC in January due to illness. I have had to take a long look at my future and my desires. And the outcome is that the desire to live in Canada is 1) a huge headache and heartache and 2) something of an idol for me. SO, I am grounded. I am committing to sticking around this area for the next couple years at least. I need roots, and they're never going to grow if I keep moving around. So, I am intentionally putting some down. This is terrifying and exciting.

...After a change in my duties and pay at Christian Courier, I am resigning at the end of the year. My heart is not in this work, and this ties in with my above resolution to dig in where I am. It is my hope that with someone more enthusiastic about the CRC Dutch diaspora in Canada, the paper can blossom beyond my abilities.

...I have dedicated myself to Union Center Christian Church. Let the roots begin. They run Living Waters (which I am also taking there) and are passionate about the arts, so despite some of my feelings (lack of liturgy, one annoying pastor...), I am starting the process of membership and involvement.

...All this means I need three things: a job, a place to live that is not my parents', and a community of friends. Big order. Let the prayers begin.

Before Moriah

2010-10-03T13:17:00.001-04:00

Did you notice when he changed your name

he only added the “ha”?

The same with your wife:

he took her “I”

(as he would ask for yours)

and tried to let her in on the joke.

But she cut it off,

drew it back,

said “I didn’t. I did not.

h--” she stifled.

And did you feel different?

Did you ever feel changed?

“Don’t make me laugh!”

Is it any wonder -

when it came to pass -

you named him, dutifully, laughter?

Naming gives a what, a where, and a why

2010-09-28T16:22:00.000-04:00

I have recently been reading Walter Wangerin, Jr. for the first time, specifically his collection of children's stories and poems and accompanying essays called Swallowing the Golden Stone. It is phenomenal! The follow excerpt especially strikes home for me, a writer, a namer, a believer in "Theatre of Being", where every word is an action....

But now that I have established the paradigm of story as a name and a naming, let
me offer a more particular explanation of how it works for the child. I'll develop this same paradigm, by further reference to the same rich source by which I came to understand it: the Book of Genesis and the Hebrew notions of language implied in the creation narratives of chapters one, two, and three.
"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth" ... by speaking them. Recognize an elemental simplicity in this Hebraic record of creation: the divine utterance ("Let there be light") did not command, as if the light itself were a separate entity, capable of obedience; nor did the divine word design light or else manufacture light (in which case God's word and the light would be separate things, one the subject, the other its object). No: the word was the light! They were one and the same thing, "Light" and the light. So if, for example, a child were asked what the act of creating must have looked like, she might picture the holy mouth of God opening wide, then issuing forth a beam of universal light exactly as a song might go forth from the mouth of God into all the universe.
But the language of stark creation was only one of the languages which theCreator used. There are two kinds of divine talk remembered in Genesis, for what God had made he also named. Light and its temporal period he called "day." Its dimming and the period of its absence he called "night." The firmament he called "heaven," the dry land "earth," the gathered waters, "seas," and so forth.
Now, it is of crucial importance to understand that this naming did more than associate a particular sound with a particular thing (as modern societies use names as pointers merely, signs not much different from highway signs: Chicago, 120 miles. The highway sign isn't actually Chicago, of course: it says, "Chicago is that-a-way.") God's naming did more than produce the "word" by which speakers could refer to the object represented by that name. For the Hebrews, language was always an action. To speak was to accomplish. And to name a thing was actually to affect the thing named: it finished its creation, as it were, in three distinct ways.
1. The thing which is, but is not named, cannot be known. If you can't talk about it, neither can you think about it or consider it or meditated upon it--nor, in consequence, can you know it at all! For the Hebrews, language is the stuff of knowing. Only when the created thing takes its place in language does it fully enter the realm of human awareness.
To name a thing, therefore, is to clothe it in visibility. To name a thing is make it knowable, to grant it place in the human conception of the world. It seems suddenly to appear, that which had in fact existed before its appearing.
(But this concept is not restricted to the Hebrews. Most primitive cultures took time and tremendous pains to discover the true name of a child in order to present that child truly to the world--and to itself!)
2. And that which is granted a name is thereby joined to the whole "grammar" of existence. As words are joined to words in the structure of a sentence, so any single thing named stands in a living and relational union--stands in a sweet kinship--with every other named thing in the universe. And as one word may enjoy an infinite variety of
grammatical relationships, sentence to sentence, speech to speech; as the changings of relationship indicate the healthy flow of its life, so the thing named (or the person named) may enjoy the development of countless relationships to the grand creation of God.
3. And finally, the name of a thing also contained the purpose and the value of that thing. It offered continually a why, a reason for this thing's participation in the fullness of creation. (Recall Jacob's new name, "Israel," and its effect on the man himself, changing his character, announcing his new purpose as a "Striver With God." "Israel" next became the name of a nation, God's chosen, holy nation: "A kingdom of priests to me," says the naming God in Exodus 19:6.) If the second effect of naming was to place it into the space of the world, this third effect places it into the time of the world, making it active, defining characteristic goals to be accomplished in the future. The named thing is an esteemed thing, for that it serves the whole.
And when God had created everything; and when the Lord God had assessed all things as "Good, very good"; and when humankind, in the image of the Creator, had been set as steward in the midst of all good things, then God granted unto us ... not the first and primal tongue, to create out of nothing, but rather the second significant tongue: to name! And in naming to accomplish all three of the above effects upon the things and the people named.
So Adam was invited to name the animals, bringing them fully into his own knowing, establishing relationships with them and for them, discovering and applying purpose to them: domesticating them.
But the highest thing the human could ever name was ... another human. And so
Adam and Eve do in the naming come to "know" each other, weave complex
relationships with each other, affirm purpose and worth one upon the other: Then the man said,
"This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh;
She shall be called ishshah [woman] because she was taken out of ish. [man]
The Hebrew words ishshah and ish make the same sort of pun that the English words woman and man do: one word acts as a root for the other, longer word; while the shorter word needs the longer one for fulfillment. Man and Wo-Man need each other: both the names, the bare words, and the objects named.

I wish I were a gazelle and you were an antelope...or an ibex.

2010-09-27T16:03:00.000-04:00

After not seeing it in probably a decade, I watched The Hudsucker Proxy again last night. It was even better than I remembered! What a film! It's every element is pretty much perfect, but what really seals the deal is Jennifer Jason Leigh's outrageous performance as a Katherine Hepburn type. Mmmm. Scrumptious movie.

Spectrum Speculation

2010-09-21T00:17:00.000-04:00

I just saw HBO's film about Temple Grandin. It made me wonder if I might be on the autism spectrum. I definitely identified with her sensitivity to stimulation, especially aural. I also related with her experience of people - not understanding them, not being able to read cues, terrified by the constant unknown silent communication among groups of people. Panic and need to feel enclosed in order to calm down.

Etc.

chiascuro

2010-09-16T23:36:00.000-04:00

the idea is that these pieces would not be ordered but somehow loose and moveable, but for ease here i have put them in a semblance of narrative, which is not the desired effect...

Chiascuro

1.
How it feels to be last –
Like nothing,
Like an empty bed
That has never been made.

This is how it feels to be included
Against your will.
How it feels to be accepted
I do not know.

Those who accept you
Just as you are
Only want to show you
How to be them.

2.
Where two or more are gathered,
I am not invited.
In the secret place,
I am not shown the way.
In the tongues,
I am given no translation.
In the eyes of God,
I am not seen.

3.
These are the blank pages
The blood scrawls only seen in night
These are the anti-scriptures
The lack and last lost
These are the words of division and hate
The testimony of air
A foul breath for but a time
And noticed by none.

4.
Brother,
if I could hold you,
I would never let go.

But I can hold you.
And so I will slowly walk away.

5.
I cannot hold your pain.
I cannot carry your tears.
But I can be the hand that
entices you to remove the glove.

6.
There is a continent in my soul,
a green and rocky land
where once a great people lived.

Fierce massacres have torn them down,
and only a few aboriginal people remain.

They wander feebly from field to field,
unsure of why they work the ground
with no tribe to feed.

There is an empty continent in my heart.

7.
let the fathers grow
let the children flourish
let the women shine
let them know
let them know
let them reveal, Lord
let rivers wash tears
and light evaporate deserts
let the healing begin
let the earth tremble
we are the witness
we are the hands

8.
The lovely –
The lonely shall be lovely.
The left shall be lifted.
The lost shall be listed.

And no one will ever
turn them away
again.
No one.

There will be a place.
They shall be placed.
And no one will drive them
out again.

They will be at home in their home
forevermore.

9.
Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The work is done.
A hundred secret flares have lit the night.
Morning – morning on their lips!
It will come.
It is coming.
The breath of light has inspired the hills.
Contagious gold will rip open the sky.
Clarity.
You willl know.
All.

10.
The world is waiting
only for a word
but what it will do then...
?

11.
In concert
In release
In innocence
And the knowledge of great guilt
In release
To bind
In concert
In communion
In innocence
And in great great joy
In deed

12.
My words will save no one
But neither will their dance
And neither will any man on earth
We will not lift any up
But will see them lifted
They will scream for words
And fight for dance
And they shall be satisfied
The word will dance in their hearts
And they shall know release

13.
Dignity with joy
is like a smile on the
Washington monument –
No one expects it
so no one can resist

14.
teach me, remind me of this
I live
I walk
in a real place
with real stones beneath my feet
and real demons imagined in the air
where real choices fly scattershot
at real, unfocused eyes
and the paramount of your grace
is for this

15.
It is my soul that will shout
and forever my soul
while mind and body scream, writhe, and die out
in pitiful flashpan miscontents
the time’s true hour will toll
in rose and altar scents

And the voice of my call
will not be a voice
but an echo response reflected off the fall
from an always moved mover
an instinct choice
to make way with loosened louvre

from a Newsarama comic review

2010-09-10T17:13:00.000-04:00

"In today's environment of endless previewing, interviewing and opinionated chatter, it can be difficult to locate the line between editorial explanations and in-story justifications. Fiction and reality's bearing on that fiction have some meeting point, and an impassioned audience must negotiate their own personal reconciliation."

Anyone working in fictionalized media needs to reflect on those words.

Yes, I am just like a new parent with a baby

2010-09-09T18:04:00.000-04:00

Today was Jareth's first vet trip! I didn't know how he would take it, so I was fully prepared with his litter box, some food, water, clean-up supplies, blanket, harness, and leash. Unlike any of my previous cats - especially new godfather Zemnu - Jareth didn't mind his harness one bit. He took right off. In the car, he briefly explored, then settled down beside me (I was not driving, let me stress that) and lay/dozed contentedly the entire ride there and back. The only trauma was his first shot, at which he screamed. But he recovered quickly, and the vets gave him lots of free food and toys as a "sorry."

Chucksters

2010-09-09T00:49:00.000-04:00

On Labor Day, my parents and I took our first trip to the brand-new, hyped-up Apalachin/Vestal location of Chuskters. Chucksters features miniature golf that boasts "the longest mini-golf hole on the planet" as well as bouncing contraptions with big bendy poles and elastic ropes and a climbing wall.

I was very excited to try all three events, but unfortunately, the climbing and jumping portions of Chucksters have weight limits, and since I'm currently 285 lbs. (or as the Wii likes to call it, OBESE!), I was destined only for mini-golf.

The holes at Chucksters are nothing fancy in the way I usually like my miniature golf – no windmills, polar bears, or gimmicks. But they are quite fun, very do-able stations. Half-way through the course, as you hit the vaunted "longest hole", Chucksters unveils its secret weapon. A series of streams, waterfalls, and pools winds through the course, and instead of simply "water traps", these tributaries act as viable, built-in routes to your destinations. Shoot your ball into the water, and it will travel downstream to an exit grate that deposits it on the green further down. Brilliant! And fun.

So, while I was disappointed by only experiencing a third of the Chucksters package, I can heartily say that it is great miniature golf fun!

Perspective

2010-08-29T06:40:00.000-04:00

"The Bible contains 6 admonishments to homosexuals and 362 admonishments to heterosexuals. That doesn't mean God doesn't love heterosexuals; it's just that they just need more supervision."

-Lynn Lavner

(I heard it on Tim Lucas's great series on "The Gay Debate". Yay, Liquid!)

Discuss!

2010-08-28T19:05:00.000-04:00

In the current Entertainment Weekly Owen Gleiberman discusses exorcism films and asks "what, if anything, are these movies trying to tell us?" His answer is insightful and very fertile for discussion:

"It all depends on the era. In Rosemary's Baby, the devil emerged out of a late-60s disarray, horning his way in between a lying husband and an innocent wife as the nuclear family itself began to implode. In The Exorcist, made several years after the feminist revolution kicked into gear, the devil expressed our primal fear of a newly empowered, newly furious, and newly sexualized generation of young girls, the first that seemed to be channeling wanton forces beyond their control."
...
"In a funny supernatural way, [Damien of The Omen (1976)] stood in for the yet-to-be-named Generation X with its scarily, if not demonically, detached new spirit."
...
"And what's the current wave of cinematic possession about? The Last Exorcism, like The Exorcism of Emily Rose before it, is a nightmare vision of the rise of Christian fundamentalism. It's about the dark side of piety – the cultish wrath that can emerge out of the high and mighty."

Elsewhere, he talks about The Exorcist as "a blasphemous nightmare for a jaded, skeptical time; it shocked the secularity right out of you."

I'm very interested in what you have to say about it all.

Linford Detweiler writes beautiful newsletters.

2010-08-17T20:57:00.002-04:00

The following from the Over the Rhine mailing list:

Hello friends,

If you knew how many times I have sat at my desk to start a letter to you all, you would laugh. Sometimes life is too big to write down, too saturated with significance, too sad, too happy, too much.

The truth is, I could have written many different letters, all too long. Scraps of them surround me here and there in the piano room, like a patchwork quilt that unraveled.

I have written about our time with Joe Henry and the amazing musicians he gathered in South Pasadena. The time we spent recording THE LONG SURRENDER, our yet-to-be-released new offering of Over the Rhine songs, how it felt like Joe put everything on a train, all the surprising things we saw out the windows as we rolled through the night, the rumble and the rhythm.

(Or did Joe put the songs out to sea? It did feel like something hard to quantify was captured. We had to hit the lifeboats a few times, but yes, Joe got us all somehow safely back to shore, grinning.)

Suffice it to say we are anxious to share the music with you, and maybe you can help us describe what happened after you hear for yourself.

THE LONG SURRENDER is being mastered this week. (We thought we had it awhile back but then realized we were still in the hunt. A few final touches still to go.) We are busy, busy getting it all dressed up and ready to let go in the world. The official release date is 1/11/11, but of course there will be plenty of foreshadowing along the way, and those of you who pitched in to make it all happen will hear it much sooner.

We are grateful to all of you and grateful to be (almost) holding the record we couldn’t imagine in advance, the seams blown out of the songs, the roof blown off the house of our catalog, only the sky above.

And I have written about my Uncle Rudy passing away, my uncle who as a boy, hid an acoustic guitar in the haymow of the barn, and a secret accordion under the horses’ manger. How my brother Myron and I drove to Northeast Ohio to pay our respects and discovered after we had signed the register and sent our flowers on ahead to be placed by the casket that we had arrived at the wrong funeral. (How Uncle Rudy would have laughed!) We eventually found the right church, passing Amish buggies along the way. My cousin William took our breath away because he looked so much like my father it was like seeing a vision. And finally, as we were walking out into the evening air to drive home, I noticed the barn swallows were flying, flying in circles and figure eights above the roof of the wooden church where Rudy lay, darting back and forth and round and round as if they loved the feel of whatever it was they were slicing with their wings.

Something felt good on their wings.

I have written about being asked to deliver my first college commencement address in Eugene, Oregon, and of the short trip down the coast we took afterwards to touch base with Karin’s side of the family, staying up late with her Aunt Nor in the kitchen, looking at old black and white photographs and hearing the old family stories, gathering around the piano to sing some harmonies, reconnecting with Karin’s sister Rose, and my sister Frances and their families, and of course, many of the Swedish, San Francisco cousins.

I have written about saying goodbye to our (great) Great Dane, Elroy, our intuitive, beautiful companion, our very own Great Speckled Dog, the few-thousand-plus walks we took together over the years, that quiet communion and deep connection. We miss him. Karin had always prayed that we would be home when Elroy’s time came, and somehow that prayer was answered. We were able to say, Goodbye. Thank You.

I have written about our recent trip to Santa Fe and the weeklong songwriting workshop Karin and I lead there, the other writers and poets and painters we have come to call friends because of The Glen Workshop, how we learn from our students, the small miracles we witness there throughout the week. (And thanks to all who welcomed Karin and I at our performances in Albuquerque. New Mexico has become a very special part of the world to us. More a little further down on the train ride we have planned in that part of the world.)

Yes, I have run out of space in these letters to say what I need to say. I need to begin thinking about the pages of a book or two to make room for more. A place with a little more elbow room where I’m not imposing…

Know that we think of all of you often, and look forward to some face time hopefully soon.

Yes, we do want to catch you up on some specific Over the Rhine news. We are preparing to air out songs new and old, engage in a little evening conversation, be surprised by laughter.

We hope we can be together.
Soon.

Love from Nowhere,

Linford and Karin

+SEPTEMBER 2010 CONERTS:

Sept 4, Saturday, Pagosa Springs, Colorado, FOUR CORNERS FOLK FESTIVAL

Sept 5, Sunday, Denver, Colorado, SOILED DOVE
Sept 7, Tuesday, Omaha, Nebraska, THE WAITING ROOM
Sept 8, Wednesday, Kansas City, Missouri, CROSSTOWN STATION

Sept 10, Friday, Nashville, Tennessee, MERCY LOUNGE (as part of Americana Music Festival, wrist band required)

+OUR FAVORITE OUTDOOR VENUE:

Sept 11, Saturday, Cincinnati, Ohio, CONEY ISLAND MOONLIGHT GARDENS. Join Over the Rhine down by the Ohio River in this lovely, hometown, historic setting, one of our all-time favorites, as we bid farewell to summer under the stars with an extended evening of songs, accompanied by an orchestra of cicadas, crickets and katydids.

+POUR ME A GLASS OF WINE/More SEPTEMBER 2010 DATES:

Sept 16, Thursday, New York City, New York, CITY WINERY
Sept 17, Friday, Philadelphia, Pennsylania, WORLD CAFÉ LIVE
Sept 18, Saturday, Centreville, Virginia, VIRGINIA WINE FESTIVAL
Sept 19, Sunday, Centreville, Virginia, VIRGINIA WINE FESTIVAL

(More dates listed at OvertheRhine.com)

+Over the Rhine, CONVERSATIONS ON A MUSICAL TRAIN

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

(We’ll be sending out a few more official notices RE the following, but wanted to give you the jump while the paint is still fresh…)

November 5-10, 2010

We have finalized the line-up for our musical train ride in November!

In an extravagant gesture, in an attempt to do something hopefully unforgettable, we are gathering some of our favorite people together and putting them on a train through the sacred spaces of the American Southwest. We are going to pour a glass of something good, and watch you fall in love. There will be music and conversation and much more. We will hop off the train in Santa Fe and explore, we will eventually even peer over the edge of the Grand Canyon – take that elusive family vacation together.

There are 45 total tickets available. We hope you can join us. (The train leaves from Los Angeles. Check out OvertheRhine.com for more.)

ON BOARD:

OVER THE RHINE – We (Karin, Linford, Jake Bradley, Kenny Hutson, and our very own surprise guest, drummer and percussionist, Mickey Grimm) will be playing concerts throughout the trip, raising glasses to and with our friends (old and new), and watching some of our favorite parts of the world go by…

SWAN DIVE – Songwriters, Bill DeMain and Molly Felder, (and Molly’s husband, Mickey Grimm) will delight you with their harmonies and beautifully-crafted pop songs. Bill and Molly have performed and collaborated with many of Nashville’s most gifted. You will soon come to appreciate their generosity as both musicians and curious human beings… (swandive.org)

LUCY WAINWRIGHT ROCHE – Lucy grew up in Greenwich Village, New York City, the daughter of Suzzy Roche of The Roches and Loudon Wainwright III. Her childhood was spent living out of a suitcase, either on the road with her parents or being ferried around to different relatives in her big musical clan – one of the most storied musical families in North America.

We have had the privilege of touring with and getting to know Lucy. We love her songs, her clear-as-a-bell voice, her instinct for a great story, and her unforgettable sense of humor. You will too. (www.myspace.com/lwrlwr)

MICHAEL WILSON – is an American photographer and music lover who has photographed a wide array of songwriters and artists – Lyle Lovett, John Hiatt, Emmylou Harris, BB King, Andy Warhol, Joe Henry, Randy Newman – and many, many others. His photographs have figured prominently throughout Over the Rhine’s recorded catalog, and Karin and Linford have cited Michael as one of their most important influences, musical and otherwise. Michael will be presenting his work throughout the week and has generously agreed to make individual portraits of all who board the train – an amazing keepsake. Those interested will also have the chance to hop off the train at various times, cameras in hand, and make photographs with Michael. (michaelwilsonphotographer.com)

LYNN NEAL – It just so happens that our naturalist on board, who will be available to illuminate much of what we’re seeing, answer questions, provide some historical context etc is a Barnesville High School graduate from Barnesville, Ohio, and former classmate and friend of Karin’s. Lynn now resides and works and conducts research in Arizona, and has a contagious, memorable sense of humor as well. We’re so happy it worked out for her to ride along.

MICKEY GRIMM – Mickey deserves his own category. He recorded and toured with Over the Rhine the last several years, but has recently gone into semi-retirement to be able to spend more time with his family in New Harmony, Indiana. Few people have made us laugh more than Mickey – and we realized we had to get him on board so that all could experience his storytelling and flare for the colorful and absurd. Not to mention general sweetness and considerable talents.

This ride is a lot to pull off, and a little bit crazy, frankly, in a hopefully beautiful way – but if you’re willing, we think it has the potential to be quite amazing. (Much like life itself.) Hope to see you.

Again, check out OvertheRhine.com for more. (And more updates soon.)

Whew. I think that's about it for this one.

xo,

L&K

PS Please share the above with friends and family near and far, print out the pages and wrap fish and chips in it, line the soles of a vintage pair of cowboy boots with the words, read excerpts over a cell phone discreetly on a rattling street car, tweet your sweet, slip a rain-soaked copy into a Methodist hymnal or a New York Times, and finally, our favorite, line the bird cage with the pages and let the white doves crap all night long.

Lyrics #10

2010-08-02T11:47:00.000-04:00

i don’t know how

there’s a long road coming

and i’ve got one foot to set down

there’s been a long-running

heart-felt debate around

where we’re going

and where we start

why am i waiting

need to repaint my half of the world

so long debating

how it’s to be inferred

where we’re going

and where we start

when we’re going

when can we start

so much to blaze

i’m looking for ways

i’d break it out now

but i don’t know how

passion to spare

your calling has always been clear

if only you’d share

how i can get there from here

where are we going

where do we start

you see the end

that i can’t comprehend

you see me there now

but i don’t know how

you’ve got me primed to rip it all up

and tear a hole in the sky

when trust is a must there’s so little discussed

that it just leaves me wondering why

you’re where we’re going

you’re where we start

Lyrics #9

2010-08-01T15:49:00.000-04:00

you and i

you are a fire

and i am a dry tree

you are seeking to consume

but not devour me

you are a river

overflowing walls

i am lying in the valley

where the waters fall

i am dry

that’s when your eyes

gather me to you again

i protest

my emptiness

but you are filling up my hands

i am scared

by thinning air

and i reach down to touch the sky

i drink the clouds

all spinning out

of the tales of you and i

you are a butcher

and i’m under the knife

you are carving off the fat

and imperfection of my life

you are the tempest

and i a piece of sand

i am torn and buffetted

in your unswerving hand

i am dry

that’s when your eyes

gather me to you again

i protest

my emptiness

but you are filling up my hands

i am scared

by thinning air

and i reach down to touch the sky

i drink the clouds

all spinning out

of the tales of you and i

are you holding me now?

are you breaking my neck?

are you squeezing so tightly

so i won’t forget?

are the scars on my arms

and the breaks in my heart

so i will remember

how jealous you are?

Lyrics #8

2010-07-29T13:44:00.001-04:00

something’s telling me

something’s telling me this is one

one of those times when you love someone

and so

you let them go

something’s telling me you’re a little more scared

a little less well prepared to go

then you’d let me know

so we sit here complaining as we wait for your plane

but our time is already flying away

so fast

it’s the last bitter goodbye

and i know that you’re leaving

but you’re not leaving me

and i know that you’re crossing

much more than a sea

this isn’t over

but it’s got to be

something’s telling me

something’s telling me we’re hugging as friends

by the look of things this could be the end

of us

and we’ve both said enough

something’s telling me not to run

that the moment has come and gone

and not to hold on

but something’s telling me to hold you too tight

something’s happening that just isn’t right

well it’s the nation, the notion, the fragment of ocean

caught in your eye

when we say goodbye

i got up at four

to get out the door

and catch a seat back home

and we all unpacked

our nicest black

and stood around the stone

so we stand here complaining on this alberta plain

but our time is already flying away

so fast

it’s the last bitter goodbye

and i know that you’re leaving

but you’re not leaving me

and i know that you’re crossing

much more than a sea

this isn’t over

but it’s got to be

something’s telling me

Lyrics #7

2010-07-28T11:18:00.001-04:00

you

i am living alone

i am out on the couch

i am hearing the tv

i am down for the count

i am waiting for you

i know you’ll come around

i am noting my motives now

they are crumbling down

around you

i check my machine

but no calls have come through

and so i change the greeting

just for something to do

i am counting the steps

from the phone to the clock

i am running to get the door

cause i know that knock

it’s you

you hear every word i say

but you never carry on this way

you’re the only thing in this place

that isn’t falling apart

you are late but that’s ok

you are looking good today

you’re the only thing i can’t explain

in my heart

i am living alone

and it plays on my fears

i can’t pay the heating now

but that’s how i know that i’m here

i am talking to you

so i don’t feel the cold

i am foolish and too sentimental

at least that’s what i’m told

by you

and you...

oh, one last thing

do you think

you could maybe stay forever?

i am drifting away

i am hoping to fly

but i don’t have the courage yet

i am wondering why

why aren’t i like you?

Lyrics #6

2010-07-27T11:54:00.001-04:00

three tears to know such provenance

of this soft love, this providence

when i deserve what i have made

condemned to die by each charade

here cold and scared, here dying slow

here hungry for that hand i know

here broken, stained, and lost in shame

that hand engraved with my true name

take this my heart, my hand, my voice

seal it to you, it is my choice

but flesh will die and take the will

lord, bind me to your spirit still

i call to you in what i’ve sung

you answer me in strange new tongues

surprised by grace, set firm in love

this hand below, this heart above

Lyrics #5

2010-07-26T05:10:00.002-04:00

sycamore

i am but half a man

i’m cut off at the knees

so to improve my perch

i live my life in search

of instrumental trees

i am of lowly state

i am of lower stature

and so because i’m able

i go under the table

collecting what i’m after

but i’ve heard, news gets around

and i’ve seen it travelling all over town

they say there’s a man you makes you whole

i am a partial man

i’m longing to be whole

but will this mammon fill

i don’t believe it will

without crowding out my soul

i have obstructed sight

and i’m lost in this town

but will i ever see

someone who looks at me

without looking down

but i’ve heard, news gets around

and i’ve seen something strange happening in this town

they say he’s coming through the gates

i heard he healed the blind

right here in jericho

and as if i heard the trumpets sound

all the walls came tumbling down

left me standing all alone

i am an empty man

i love from time to time

but maybe i will see

with my own faculties

after one more climb

after just one more climb

cause i’ve heard, news gets around

and i see him, best i can, coming through the crowd

but i am sick and poor

hiding in this sycamore

straining to see

and he stops

he stops under the tree

and he looks

he’s looking right at me

and he calls

he calls me by my name

‘come down from your tree

come down and sup with me today

cause i think i’m headed your way’

i am but half a man

i do my best that’s all

still i am sick and poor

hiding in this sycamore pew

trying to get just a glimpse of you

but i never expected a call

Lyrics #4

2010-07-24T07:13:00.001-04:00

i don’t know what’s burning

but i suggest we fan the flame

and if it leaves me with nothing

i’m no worse off than when i came

Lyrics #3

2010-07-22T22:36:00.001-04:00

already dead

this is a safe place

this is a place for you to rest

this is a warm place

this is all things for the best

this is protection

in the arms of God and man

this is peace, this is stillness

this is love when it began

this is a place where you can be small

this a place where you can give all

and never lose a thing

this is a place where nothing falls away

except the things that are already dead

this is a real place

where the cries of God are heard

this is a true place

when the word seems so absurd

this is a place where love can be born

with so little pain

this is hope, this is now

this is grace against the grain

this is a place where you can be small

this a place where you can give all

and never lose a thing

this is a place where nothing falls away

except the things that are already dead

all the things that are already dead

no more waiting

this is waiting on the Lord

no more fighting

this is picking up the sword

this is

my childhood

Lyrics #2

2010-07-22T07:18:00.002-04:00

rock star

so you wanna be a rock star

so you wanna be a big big star

well baby, send a picture to me

so you wanna be a big star

so you wanna be a movie star

well write me about the good things you see

we’ll paper our walls

with your rises and falls

so you wanna be a big shot

so wanna be a big hotshot

well schedule an appointment with me

so you wanna be a sexpot

so you wanna be a hot-to-trot

well call me when you get on tv

we’ll buy every pair

of pyjamas you wear

we can make our own big break

but only if we’re looking to fall

cause we’ve been lied to

been tricked and tried to hide

away from it all

so you wanna be a brain trust

so you wanna be the upper crust

and tell me where you got your degree

so you wanna be a big must

so you wanna be the one discussed

at parties over bubbly and brie

we’ll guess your age

from the society page

chorus

we make mistakes

we make excuses

we make amends

we make improvements

but it’s all your fault

we make suggestions

we make the call

we make corrections

we make light of it all

so you wanna be a bright light

so you wanna be a shining light

well maybe you’re just too bright to see

so you wanna be a do-right

so you wanna show the world your light

well baby, what are you showin’ me?

are you aware

of the image you bear?

so you wanna get the convert

so you wanna clean off all his dirt

and get in to the concert for free

so you wanna buy the t-shirt

so you wanna cover all your hurt

well baby, what you trying to be?

Lyrics

2010-07-20T09:44:00.000-04:00

The other day, while going through my files on my old computer, I found a bunch of song lyrics I lost years ago! I have never been brave enough to share my songs with people, but some of the lyrics are quite good, I think. So, I'll post them here. It will help me feel like I'm contributing...something...to something. I feel really guilty when I don't blog enough.

So, voila: song #1

let me go

i’m too tired to rest in you right now

just a little weak

i’m too low to lay down at your feet

so break me

sometimes i wish you’d just leave me alone

awake me

i can’t take the heat -- i’m going home

but why do you enchant me with your full and steady arms

still there when i don’t want to believe

and why do you implant me with your unrelentant charms

you love me ‘til i can’t leave

and it’s as if i hear you saying my child, yes you can, you are free

and it’s as if i hear your eyes weeping silent tears as you push me leave

and it’s as if i know you know i know there’s nothing there

and it’s as if we always play this game of give and take

but i always take and i never share

i’m too tired to rest in you right now

i wish you’d leave me alone

i think it’s time to move on -- i’ve been packing since we met

you see i used to be in love with you, now i don’t care if you’re upset

give me my money now -- i think you owe me a lot for what you put me through

and if i really wanted i think you’d let go of me, but i can’t let go of you

why do you enchant me with your full and steady arms

still there when i don’t want to believe

and why do you implant me with your unrelentant charms

you love me ‘til i can’t leave

Cross-promotion

2010-07-18T01:53:00.000-04:00

Don't forget to check b.a.d. reviews for thoughts on what I've seen/read lately. My health stops me from writing up everything, but if you see something in my Pacing the Cage sidebar that you wish to see reviewed, let me know.

(And don't forget about The List Is Life, either. Newest list: movies I'm excited about.)

A single obsession

2010-07-05T16:47:00.002-04:00

There is a Derek Webb song from his days with Caedmon’s Call named “Can’t Lose You.” It is a beautiful song with a melody full of longing and almost-scattered hope. The lyrics describe something I have found myself all-too-familiar with, the feeling that at “everyone is changing and I am still the same as I was ten years ago.” A lot of days lately, I couldn’t sum up my thoughts any better. I recently turned 30 and moved back into my parents’ house. Meanwhile, most of my friends are raising toddlers. Not only that, but I find myself a theatre major literally hundreds of miles from any reputable theatres. While it is the right situation for me at this time, it’s not always encouraging.

Now that I’ve set the scene, let’s move on to my favourite line in “Can’t Lose You,” which comes at the end of the bridge (and therefore the “last” line of the song, followed only by a repetition of the chorus). I always find the first and last lines of a poem, book or song to be the most important, and that lends the following zinger a significant weight. After examining (bemoaning) his fate, Webb leaves with this bon mot: “Maybe I have the gift that everyone speaks so highly of – funny how nobody wants it.”

Searching for a spiritual gift exchange

What is this gift? Based on the rest of the lyrics, which swirl around a mysterious “you” who has just left, I think it’s safe to say that gift is singleness. Yes, the “calling” of those I like to call Paul’s Pals, my fellow celibates.

In the last decade or so, a lot of people in a lot of churches have gone out of their way to praise this state. Oh, what opportunities! they seem to exclaim, to serve God without the worldly worries of serving a family. And yet, to Derek Webb and I, sitting between families in the pew, it seems like a lot of energy spent on putting a positive spin on a negative situation. Have you noticed, we ask, how nobody seems to wants this “gift?”

Sure, sure, there are those brave men and women who embrace their singlehood with celerity and are celebrated, but even that celebration carries a tone of “good for you, God bless your heart” lemonade-making condescension. Churches, while rightly taking stock of their congregants’ needs, have discovered that there is less welcoming space for singles in the life of the body – not, as Paul posits, more. And they respond by praising the single rose and returning to their bouquets.

Meanwhile, Christianity in North America is more and more turning into a true “focus on the family,” with “family values” as their rallying cry. And I, in my little family of one, am left looking past all the smiling couples for the spiritual gift exchange counter.

Matchmaker, matchmaker…

The question likely comes down to “why am I single?” There are many factors, but is one of them spiritual calling? And is one of them a lack of romantic love? As I enter my 30s, what I’m looking for is not a romantic charge, an infatuation or (thank you, Over the Rhine) “lifelong fling.” I want a companion, a friend, a partner in this crazy chicken dance called life.

But marriage in our culture is centred on romantic and erotic love. The way I see it, the love that grounds a marriage is one of commitment, and I am fully able of making that commitment without prom night butterflies. In fact, there are a handful of female friends whom I would marry in an instant, and I truly think that commitment is the missing ingredient for me. If given the chance to pledge my troth to a dear Christian friend…well, let me say that not much sounds sexier than that in my mind.

And so I am left longing for the days of arranged and negotiated marriages. For most of human life, it has been the norm, after all. I am ready to hook my dowry to a star, but I’m surrounded by women raised on romantic comedies, waiting for “the one.” Well, ladies, put a ring on it, and I’ll blow Mr. Darcy out of the water.

iPod therefore...

2010-07-02T03:07:00.000-04:00

From a Dolly Parton song:

Oh, I've been like a captured eagle. You know an eagle's born to fly.
Now that I have won my freedom like an eagle I am eager for the sky.

"Like an eagle I am eager for the sky..."  Isn't that just it?

And from a Neutral Milk Hotel song (I don't understand their hold on people, btw):

"Can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all"  Yep, that's it, too.

Funny how nobody wants it...

2010-06-21T17:12:00.000-04:00

Another day, another Derek Webb song, this one from his time with Caedmon's Call. This is how I feel today. I especially love the bridge, which is the last lines in the following:

Can't Lose You

So you're gone but I know you're not so far away
You're a call on the phone or a ride on a plane
But that just isn't the same, yeah well

That's ok because I was never home anyway
So now everyone's evolving and I am just the same
As I was ten years ago, but I don't know
Maybe the simple life is more the way to go
But then again, Im mostly all alone

'Cause I'm losing everyone
But I know I can't lose you
And maybe my time will come
But I know I can't lose you

The older I get well the more that life is making sense
And it's similar to traffic of being president
'Cause Im not the one in control
You grab a hold
I'm just a hammer helping to nail the future down
But it's getting hard making my friends leave town

But maybe I missed the nose right on my face
For what's just past it
And maybe I have the gift that everyone speaks to highly of
Funny how nobody wants it

Not really feeling bloggy these days

2010-06-21T01:05:00.000-04:00

The words to this beautiful Derek Webb song really struck me today.

"Lover, Part 2" (from I See Things Upside Down)

I’m living in a car graveyard
My heart is up on blocks
I’m dying in a sail torn ship
I’m wrecking on your rocks
I’ve got a promise breaking foolish heart
That’s broken into three
And you took it Father, Son and Ghost
And I have been set free

And I’m dressed up like it’s Halloween
I’m greedy at your door
I’m naked as a crime scene
And you're murdered on my floor
And though I’m cornered by the words I say
You’re telling me to speak
You teach me how to kill and be killed
And how you set me free

Oh, I am my beloved’s
And my beloved’s mine
And I am as surprised as
Any man born blind
And it’s still coming in blurry
The images I see
But someday it will all come clear
And I will be set free
And I will be set free

30 Rockstars

2010-05-21T20:24:00.003-04:00

Liz & Carol, Jack & Avery, Jenna & Paul...I dig it.

And don't get me started on how stoked I am about the new developments on Parks & Rec! Good days, people, good days.

Malice in Underland manages to underwhelm

2010-05-15T00:29:00.000-04:00

Tonight I finally saw Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland remix. Instead of a retelling of the classic tale, it's a mash-up of characters, words, and events from both Alice books and "The Jabberwocky". The story is pretty blah and rote, focusing mainly on the neologisms from the Jabberwock poem and set in Underland. It seems like lazy story-making to this reviewer.

All-in-all, it's a very hollowy movie, hinging on mock-Labyrinth CGI designs of exaggerated characters. Much-vaunted up-and-comer Mia Washikowska (Vosh-i-kov-ska) plods through on a pretty accent and good looks, bringing absolutely nothing to the role of this 19-year-old Alice. Johnny Depp does a Johnny Depp impression. Helena Bonham-Carter phones in her crazy hair routine. Even my dear Anne Hathaway does her best Amy Adams in a sickly maudlin version of the White Queen. Blah, bleh, and blech.

This one is not for me, only peppered by a few cute moments, several exquisite dresses, and a handful of adorable woodland creatures. And a number of simply...icky moments, including walking on be-bodied heads and 3 -- 3! -- needle-in-eye shots.

Pass on Underland. See the 1985 mini-series version with Carol Channing as the White Queen instead. (oooh, visions of an Anne-Carol musical...mmmm)

Red Cliff

2010-05-14T06:53:00.001-04:00

I love Chinese movies, be they quiet dramas or action flicks. I just watched John Woo's excellent war epic, Red Cliff. I had never seen a Woo film, and I wasn't sure if I would take to his infamous style. But Red Cliff is not the type of movie I expected from John Woo, and I'm thrilled.

This is definitely the best war movie I've seen. The story is of a famous Chinese war in the 3rd century. In a way, it is a Chinese Iliad. Seeing such a gigantic action epic portraying ancient warfare was really interesting. It's very Lord of the Rings with the horses and archers and catapults, but I was really excited to see ancient naval battles. And, apparently, most of the ridiculously beautiful and intricate battle scenes were done with real effects (non-CG, I mean).

(I apologize if this is disjointed or oddly worded...I'm watching the special features as I type.)

The story is actually very compelling, highlighting the incredible ingenuity of 3rd century warfare. Each battle uses armies, weapons, and the elements in brilliant and exciting ways. It pays special attention to the role of nature in war. The direction of the wind, the sun, the topography. It's fascinating.

I gather that the movie I saw was a shortened version (only 2 and half hours, versus the original 2-part 4 and half hour epic), and I'd be very interested in seeing the long version. A great film (though it does have some patently Asian flavours that seem odd to Western audiences, it is mostly very Western-friendly) that I recommend.

Iron Man 2

2010-05-09T04:49:00.000-04:00

Everyone knows that sequels stink, right? It’s come to be a common truism only enforced since the days of The Matrix Revolutions and Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous. But of course, there are exceptions: Terminator 2: Judgment Day and The Empire Strikes Back have earned their places in some of the most-love films of all time. Even The Silence of the Lambs was something of a sequel. But for every hit there seem to be a hundred misses.

However, one genre seems to fair better than others in the sequel game: the much in vogue comic book movie. It’s widely believed that Spider-Man 2 and The Dark Knight are better than their predecessors. In fact, many hold those very sequels to be the two best comic-based films in history.

And so, after Iron Man proved a huge smash (from a newborn studio, no less), expectations have grown Hulk-sized for the inevitable Iron Man 2. Well, that refreshingly simple title is now emblazoned on marquees across the world (the widest release ever attempted), and the seats are filling with fans ready to match their hopes with the plan celluloid facts.

Let’s see how they stack up.

The key ingredient in the first film was a mischievous sense of humour that pervaded every scene. This was my biggest worry as I watched a dozen five-year-old trivia questions endlessly cycle on the screen before “curtain” (I arrived half an hour early and was greeted by what already looked like a typically full house). When the first scene centred on a dying Russian father and ended in Mickey Rourke screaming over the man’s dead body, I became very nervous. As I watched Rourke’s character montage his way through a credits sequence of revenge-fueled welding, my hopes started to really droop. I feared the ultimate sequel mistake: did Iron Man 2 take itself too seriously?

The answer came right away. After jumping from a speeding plane, our titular hero flew himself down for the grandest of entrances while dancers in Iron Girl bikinis gyrated and a New-Years-Eve-like crowd screamed applause. The grin that broke across my face at the sight of those repulsor-wearing go-go girls probably didn’t dissipate for the rest of the film. Tony Stark was in the house.

That’s what makes this franchise so distinct. The superhero is a spoiled narcissist whose spontaneous wit slays more enemies and melts more hearts than any man in a high-tech suit. It’s James Bond at his smarmiest, and we love it.

The other element in the Iron Man formula is a relative realism that allows us to take part in the escapist daydream more fully. No one uses a dorky codename but Tony, and that’s all part of the media empire that fuels his egomania. Though we, the comic-literate audience, can geek out to War Machine, Black Widow, and Whiplash, you’ll never hear any of those names used on screen. The entire scene would be ruined if Mickey Rourke yelled “Call me Whiplash!” The sight of the obviously dangerous Russian with the electric whips conjures up more menace than any delusions of supervillainry.

Speaking of the supporting cast, I have to admit to another initial concern I had. Did one film really need to introduce two more superheroes (Don Cheadle as War Machine and Scarlett Johansson as Black Widow) on top of the villain (Rourke’s Whiplash), rival (Sam Rockwell’s weapons manufacturer, Justin Hammer), and mysterious benefactor (Samuel L. Jackson’s Nick Fury, with more screen time than the character’s had yet)? While the juggling act succeeded for the most part (no Spider-Man Three’s Company syndrome here), I did leave wishing for more of them all, save the whiny rich boy Hammer. No doubt there’s strategy in this. We’re apt to see Rhodey and Widow in 2012’s The Avengers, after all. (I won’t get started on my complete geek glee for that project, which has recently hit stratospheric levels with the rumblings of the Whedon name attached.)

But overall, the movie felt short to me (it’s not, clocking in at just over 2 hours). With so many iconic characters on one screen, there’s never going to be enough time to do them all justice. So, while the action scenes were good (not as fantastic as in the original), and the loose ends tied sufficiently, it just felt a little incomplete, like there was one missing set piece that could have pushed it up a notch.

There is a lot going on in Iron Man 2. And thankfully, the driving force of it all is more about Tony Stark than Iron Man. It’s a story familiar to the divine Robert Downey, Jr. – a story of recklessness and self-involvement from too much privilege and fame. The script makes (perhaps too much of) a point about the idea of legacy, but the real theme is not about the future. Tony’s arc is all about the present. Perhaps reputation is a better buzzword for the story.

But on that point, I get perilously close to detailing the plot. That’s not what I’m here to do. What I am here to do is give you my (hopefully informed) opinion of the film. And if you’ve missed it so far, here it is: Iron Man 2 is superb fun, and I wanted to rush right back in to the next showing. Each actor (even Rockwell and Johansson, who frequently annoy me in other movies) makes a good showing. The story moves at a perfect clip, and there enough Easter eggs to keep nerds like me happy (the briefcase suit! the shield! “Hammer”!). It may not be an Empire Strikes Back, but this is one sequel I will be happy to see a second time.

Johnny Cash Project

2010-05-05T01:46:00.000-04:00

Check out The Johnny Cash Project, where you can help create the video for the new posthumous single, "Ain't No Grave". Even if you don't contribute, watch what's there so far. It's fantastic. Perfect, I think.

Die Wiesse Band

2010-04-25T02:35:00.001-04:00

Tonight, I saw Michael Haneke's most recent film, The White Ribbon. A beautiful, haunting, intentionally Bergmanesque film. I was going to write a review, but Roger Ebert did it much better:

The White Ribbon
reviewed by Roger Ebert

Something is wrong in the village. Some malevolent force, some rot in the foundation. This wrongness is first sensed in a series of incidental "accidents." Then the maiming of a child takes place. This forces the villagers, who all know one another, to look around more carefully. Is one of them guilty? How can that be? One person couldn't be responsible for all of these disturbing events. Have many been seized in an evil contagion?

After the first screening of Michael Haneke's "The White Ribbon" at Cannes, everybody had theories about who "did it." Well, we're trained to see such stories as whodunits. Haneke is never that simple. It all may have been "done," but what if there seems to be no doer? What if bad things happen to good people who are not as good as they think they are? In Haneke's "Cache" (2005), who shot the alarming videos spying on the family? Are you sure? Haneke's feeling is that we can never be certain.

This great film is set in rural Germany in the years before World War I. All has been stable in this village for generations. The baron owns the land. The farmer, the pastor, the doctor, the schoolteacher, the servants, even the children, play their assigned roles. It is a patriarchal, authoritarian society -- in other words, the sort of society that seemed ordinary at that time throughout the world.

We are told the story many years after it took place, by the schoolteacher (Ernst Jacobi). In the film, we see him young (Christian Friedel). The old man intends to narrate with objectivity and precision. He'll draw no conclusions. He doesn't have the answers. He'll stick to the facts. The first fact is this: While out riding one morning, the doctor (Rainer Bock) was injured when his horse stumbled because of a trip wire. Someone put the wire there. Could they have even known the doctor would be their victim?

Other incidents occur. A barn is burned. A child is found murdered. Someone did each of these things. The same person could not easily have done all of them. There is information about where various people were at various times. It's like an invitation to play Sherlock Holmes and deduce the criminal. But in "The White Ribbon," there are no barking hounds. The clues don't match. Who is to even say something is a clue? It might simply be a fact seen in the light of suspicion.

Life continues in an orderly fashion, as a gyroscope tilts and then rights itself. The baron steadies his people. The doctor resumes his practice, but is unaccountably cruel toward his mistress. The teacher teaches, and the students study, and they sing in the choir. Church services are attended. The white ribbon is worn by children who have been bad but will now try to be good. The crops are harvested. The teacher courts the comely village girl Eva (Leonie Benesch). And suspicion spreads.

I wonder if it's mostly a Western feeling that misfortune is intolerable and, to every degree possible, death must be prevented. I don't hear of such feelings from Asia or Africa. There is more resignation when terrible things happen. Yes, a man must not harm another. He should be punished. But after he causes harm, they don't think it's possible to prevent any other man from ever doing the same thing.

In this German town, there is a need to solve the puzzle. Random wicked acts create disorder and erode the people's faith that life makes sense. The suspicion that the known facts cannot be made to add up is as disturbing as if the earth gave way beneath our feet.

Haneke has a way of making the puzzle more interesting than its solution. If you saw "Cache," you'll remember how, after a certain point, a simple shot by an unmoving camera became disturbing even when nothing happened. It wasn't about what we were seeing. It was about the fact that someone was looking, and we didn't know why.

It's too simple to say the film is about the origins of Nazism. If that were so, we would all be Nazis. It is possible to say that when the prevention of evil becomes more important than the preservation of freedom, authoritarianism grows. If we are to prevent evil, someone must be in charge. The job naturally goes to those concerned with enforcing order. Therefore, all disorder is evil and must be prevented, and that's how the interests of the state become more important than the interests of the people.

I wonder if Haneke's point is that we grow so disturbed by danger that we will surrender freedom -- even demand to. Do we feel more secure in an orderly state? Many do. Then a tipping point arrives, and the Berlin Wall falls, or we see the Green Revolution in Iran. The problem, as philosophers have noted, is that revolutionaries grow obsessed with enforcing their revolution, and the whole process begins again.

Haneke's genius is to embed these possibilities in films rooted in the daily lives of ordinary people. He denies us the simple solutions of most films, in which everything is settled by the violent victory of one side. His films are like parables, teaching that bad things sometimes happen simply because they . . . happen. The universe laughs at man's laws and does what it will.

The film is visually masterful. It's in black and white, of course. Color would be fatal to its power. Perhaps because black-and-white film stock is hard to find, Haneke filmed in color and drained it away. If a color version is ever released, you'll see why it's wrong. Just as it is, "The White Ribbon" tells a simple story in a village about little people and suggests that we must find a balance between fear and security.

"Coming" and goings

2010-04-23T23:47:00.000-04:00

X-Men: Second Coming is in full swing now. Though the Big Death occurs in next week's X-Force 25 (my current bet is Nightcrawler), the more personal one for me was in this week's X-Men Legacy 235. During the Utopia crossover, I was elated to see the return of perhaps my favourite X-character: Ariel, from the 80s limited series Fallen Angels. A dark foreboding warned me that her return was meant to fill the cannon of fodder, however, and she finally was killed. Exploded. By a missile. Really. Just not right. Not right at all. And this after Necrosha killed off ex-Alha Flighter Diamond Lil, another favourite. And on top of it all, my other all-time pet character, Karma, seems to have been crippled by a resurrected Cameron Hodge. It's hard times to be a fan of D-list mutants. Just leave Kylun and Gomi alone, please - they're my only hope now.

Am I pregnant?

2010-03-27T16:46:00.002-04:00

I don't know if this is pitiful or cute, but last night I teared up because I will never be friends with Amy Grant. True story.

Two Views: One Re, One Inter

2010-03-20T00:10:00.000-04:00

B. A. D. Reviews is officially home to original, never-before-published material.

Head on over there to read my review of Steven Soderbergh's The Girlfriend Experience and my interview with singer-songwriter Kendall Payne!

And if there's anything you'd like to see reviewed, I could use the kick. As much as I love it, I always feel intimidated before starting. So, leave a comment, and I won't let you down.

B. A. D. Reviews

2010-03-18T13:15:00.000-04:00

Well, I've done it again. I started a new blog: B. A. D. Reviews. Right now it is only previously blogged reviews and reviews from Christian Courier. But I plan on doing more reviews and posting them over there. (Sorry that it's all out of chronology.)

The 5th Annual Posties!!

2010-03-07T19:43:00.004-05:00

The Posties are here!

(What are the Posties?)

The Posties are my version of the Oscars. Every year, on the day after the Oscars, I post my picks in the top categories. Eligibility, then, is narrowed to what I've seen. The complete list is available in the blog post following nominations. While I like to get as many people voting as possible (spread the word!), it's really a way for me to say, "these are the best films I saw this year; check them out."

The nomination boxes are long. Sorry. I have yet to find a perfect poll host. Also, be sure to vote by clicking on the words, not the pictures. But please vote for deserving films and performances, even if you're not familiar with all the choices.

And comment with the snubs you see.

I followed the Oscars by nominating 10 films for Best Picture. The result is a wide range of movies. In my opinion, in case you need help, the best films this year were Up, Inglourious Basterds, and Nine. Just those three show how varied great films were in 2009. It was a good year for animation, too (just look at my top 10). But there were some true disappointments, and you can vote for the worst film after honouring the best.

So, scroll down and start voting!

Best Picture

2010-03-06T05:17:00.002-05:00

I follow suit with 10 films

Best Director

2010-03-06T05:05:00.002-05:00

Best Actress

2010-03-06T04:55:00.001-05:00

Best Actor

2010-03-06T04:45:00.001-05:00

Best Supporting Actress

2010-03-06T04:35:00.002-05:00

Best Supporting Actor

2010-03-06T04:25:00.001-05:00

Best Screenplay

2010-03-06T04:21:00.001-05:00

Performer of the Year

2010-03-06T04:07:00.002-05:00

Best Design

2010-03-06T03:59:00.006-05:00

This category covers overall production design, from sets and costumes to hair and makeup to cinematography and sound.

Best Soundtrack

2010-03-06T03:59:00.005-05:00

This category honours score and songs (original or not) included in each film.

Worst Film of the Year

2010-03-06T03:47:00.004-05:00

Posties Final Eligibility List

2010-03-06T02:27:00.003-05:00

The Posties will open on Monday, and here's the final list of eligible films:

Avatar
The Box
Bride Wars
Bright Star
Coraline
District 9
Duplicity
Fame
The Fantastic Mr. Fox
(500) Days of Summer
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
He's Just Not That Into You
In the Loop
The Informant!
Inglourious Basterds
It's Complicated
Julie & Julia
The Lovely Bones
Moon
New York, I Love You
Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian
9
Nine
Observe and Report
Paper Heart
Ponyo
The Princess and the Frog
The Proposal
Race to Witch Mountain
The Road
A Serious Man
Sherlock Holmes
Star Trek
Sunshine Cleaning
Terminator Salvation
The Time Traveler's Wife
Up
Up in the Air
Watchmen
Whatever Works
Where the Wild Things Are
X-Men Origins: Wolverine

Snowicane pics!

2010-03-04T20:23:00.003-05:00

So, we recently had what the weathermen called a "snowicane" (a hurricane of snow, I guess). I love snow, and we got a lot of it!

Sonnet for J.E.

2010-02-15T13:53:00.002-05:00

A man's heart is the slightest thing to break.
This paltry world can do the trick with each
Injustice, silence, or mistake.
A dropped name or lowered eye can teach
Him multitudes of pain, and for this sake
He cannot give his constant cracking speech.
Instead he builds his broken heart a fence
Of gold, seeing himself a secret wretch
Unworthy of the myrrh and frankincense.
For what does he span rivers, then? Stretch
Across concepts and continents?
He spends his life in wild hope to catch
A fleeting glimpse of God in grand disguise:
A beauty strong enough to break his eyes.