Friday, May 27, 2011

Wouldn't you be?

I would be sad because you left me all alone.
I would be sad because the lies that you had told.
I would be sad because I got left by a girl that I adore.
I would be sad because the love I had before.

I meant what I said when I said I would settle down with you although I know it's not something that you were asking me to
do.
And I know we are young but we won't always be, so marry me; lets not be that predictable young couple changing, moving on.
But I can tell by watching you that theres no chance of pushing through.
The odds are so against us; you know most young love it ends like this.

I would be sad because you left me all alone.
I would be sad because the lies that you had told.
I would be sad because I got left by a girl that I adore.
I would be sad for all the love I had before.

I meant what I said when I said I would rearrange my plans and change for you.
You know me; I've always been the kind with easy confidence.
Confident enough to honestly beleive that nothing out there stopping me especially not someone who's not loving me.
Now listen here I told you I could live on with out loving you.
I was bluffing then, but it seems that just might have been the truth.
Well my dad told me, "One day son, this girl will think of what she's done and hurting you will be the first of many more
regrets to come."
And he said, "If she doesn't call, then it's her fault and it's her loss."
I say, "It's not that simple see, but then again it just may be."

I would be sad because you left me all alone.
I would be sad for the lies that you had told.
I would be sad because I got left by a girl that I adored.
I would be sad for all the love I had before.
I would be sad for all the love I had before.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Wherein I act like I haven't been gone for seven months

Plato understands human interaction according to three categories, making, using, and imitating. He chalks art up to the lowest form of interaction: imitation. He his considered the lowest form, because it requires the least knowledge of its object. The maker at least understands the structure of a thing, and the user even more, as he understands its function and use, but, according to Plato, the imitator merely perceives what a thing appears to be and attempts to act accordingly. “It was this then I wished should be agreed upon, when I said that painting, and in short imitation, being far from the truth, delights in its own work, conversing with that part in us which is far from wisdom, and is its companion and friend, to no sound nor genuine purpose. Entirely so, said he. Imitation then, being depraved in itself, and joining with that which is depraved, generates depraved things. It seems so.” For Plato, Pursuing art was base enough to be considered depraved.
Now that we understand where Plato is coming from, we can interact with his accusations against the arts in two ways: within his framework, and against it. Within the Platonic framework there is a facet of the Form matter distinction that Plato fails to identify the possibility form a Form of Art, or Artistry. Plato regularly sullies art by calling it the imitator of all it sees: parrot to everything and master of nothing. Yet, Art is not so easily attained. True art, accurate art, conforms to reality. At its best, art teaches moral lessons, wisdom, and knowledge. At its best art points us to the Good. To prove this point, let us consider a work that many consider a literary masterpiece: Plato’s Republic.
The Republic is not an artless philosophical tome. It is a dialogue. It has characters, and foreshadowing, and a plot. There are jokes, sarcasm, and conflict resolution. And most importantly, it is fictional. Despite the ancients’ legendary capability for retaining long speeches in their memory, no commentator actually attributes the words of the Republic to Socrates, Plato’s mouthpiece. And yet this piece of art points us to the Good. This fiction, this masterpiece, extols the contemplative life. Within the platonic framework, one could actually argue that art is one of the few things that can point directly at the Good with only a paper-thin intermediary. Art is not the problem. Bad art is the problem. Art that is truly imitation, that merely looks at the lines and color of the shoe, and paints without understanding, within Plato’s framework, this is indeed the mere imitation and a poor pursuit.
But why give up the field? Why let Plato frame the argument, his historical superiority not withstanding? Only in Plato’s dualism is the shoe not a venerable object. Consider my servant shoe. It keeps the nails and blisters out, the dust off, and the warmth in. Some humble shoe was the means of transportation that carried Socrates and his message around Athens. Real, wet, human lips delivered Socrates’ Apology, and a tangible pen recorded the words of the Republic. A systematic deconstruction of the theory of the Forms is beyond the scope of this paper, but looking with wide eyes will show us that the rocks and pebbles are rejoicing. Hating the world is the sine qua non of deriding art. Rejecting the objective goodness of objects naturally results in deriding their contemplation and their reproduction in art. This assumption goes to the heart of Plato’s philosophy and is the motivation for his accusation against art as imitation. The ultimate justification for art is an affirmation of the goodness of things, to side with Homer, Aristotle, and Christ.
The resolution of art and philosophy is not found in ratifying and strengthening their distinction, but rather by uniting them under the banner of the pursuit of Truth. The Republic shows that at its best, art is a type of philosophy, and philosophy at its best, is a type of art.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Charles Spurgeon is Timely

"This do in remembrance of Me."—1 Corinthians 11:24.

T seems then, that Christians may forget Christ! There could be no need for this loving exhortation, if there were not a fearful supposition that our memories might prove treacherous. Nor is this a bare supposition: it is, alas! too well confirmed in our experience, not as a possibility, but as a lamentable fact. It appears almost impossible that those who have been redeemed by the blood of the dying Lamb, and loved with an everlasting love by the eternal Son of God, should forget that gracious Saviour; but, if startling to the ear, it is, alas! too apparent to the eye to allow us to deny the crime. Forget Him who never forgot us! Forget Him who poured His blood forth for our sins! Forget Him who loved us even to the death! Can it be possible? Yes, it is not only possible, but conscience confesses that it is too sadly a fault with all of us, that we suffer Him to be as a wayfaring man tarrying but for a night. He whom we should make the abiding tenant of our memories is but a visitor therein. The cross where one would think that memory would linger, and unmindfulness would be an unknown intruder, is desecrated by the feet of forgetfulness. Does not your conscience say that this is true? Do you not find yourselves forgetful of Jesus? Some creature steals away your heart, and you are unmindful of Him upon whom your affection ought to be set. Some earthly business engrosses your attention when you should fix your eye steadily upon the cross. It is the incessant turmoil of the world, the constant attraction of earthly things which takes away the soul from Christ. While memory too well preserves a poisonous weed, it suffereth the rose of Sharon to wither. Let us charge ourselves to bind a heavenly forget-me-not about our hearts for Jesus our Beloved, and, whatever else we let slip, let us hold fast to Him.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

The Principalities Are Us

Let us be torn down,
crushed by the chief cornerstone.
Let the weight of the world made new
apply purifying pressure.
Crush these bones,
I want to rejoice.
Our feet are within your Gates, O Jerusalem,
let them stay in peace.
Keep us this day without Sin.
Amen

Monday, March 8, 2010

Testudo lepusque per silvamambulant viã

Testudine non loquente, lepus loquacior

iocatur Sordide quoque gloriatur et

Ambulat apud domum serpentis caeci. Tam

Loquor magna lepus voceut a vipera

Petatur, manducetur, et concoqatur et

Tardus pergit tutaet secura silentio.

Doctus es a fabellaillud: videsne virum garrulumet

Verbosum? Vero spes stulto viroest magis.

Friday, March 5, 2010

I Haiku because I must

Death, be thou not proud.
Spring comes and smiles to see you.
Your winter was weak.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Laminator Antonius


Testudo lepusque per silvamambulat viã
Testudine non loquente lepus superbissimus
Sordide iocatur gloriaturque. Lepus sine curã
Ambulat apud domum serpentis caeci. Tam
Dicit lepus magnã voceut serpens eum
Petat, manducet, et voret, concoqiat.
Chersos pergit totaet secura silentio.
Doctus es a fabellaillud: videsne virum garrulumet
Verbosum? Stultus vero spem plurem possidet.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Trying to be Clever

Saw this type of thing on another blog and wrote on myself. Figure out the scheme behind how it was written (ignoring all but the first article and paying special attention to the spelling (that last hint is only helpful about half the time)). Enjoy.


A brave child did enter forest grown high, irate, jeering, kreeking, laughing, making Nathan's otherwise passionate quest rather slow and terrorfilled. Under this weathered xenofaun ventured young Zebulun approaching the brave child.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Baby Blessing Tongue Twister



My big brother Brandon’s bride bore a beautiful baby bairn. Baby be brave. Baby be beautiful. Baby be bright. Baby be blessed. Girl grow gorgeous. Girl grow grounded in the word. Girl grow in grace. Girl grow in God.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Emmaline

We here at The Madman's Corner would like to welcome Emmaline Lynn Antkowiak into this world. She arrived this morning at 8:11. She has the lungs of an opera singer and the arms of a power lifter. She has dark curly hair and her father's nose. She weighs eight pounds and six ounces, is twenty-one inches long, and when she opens her eyes the world gets brighter.