Life

There is nothing wrong with going through life asleep, as long as you're dreaming.

Rude

This Just In! Baptist Children to name themselves after obtaining driver's license: Noone knows what the heck to call them in the meantime.

What is your favorite movie?

For the whole argument go to

http://pushlings.wordpress.com/2009/06/09/whats-your-favorite-movie/

Christian you’ve played into my hand. A movie is a painting, a picture of an idea. We get to pick the meaning. You said you’ll let your sons watch it “when they reach a certain age.” The age when they will garner the right meaning. I’m old enough to see that a Nietzschian will to power can only be (almost) consistently applied by a man who is certifiably insane and that the results are destructive (yes david a nihilistic win but because I’m not a nihilist, i consider it a catastrophe). I honestly wasn’t old enough when I first saw it and definitely thought how cool it would be to start a fight club and be a slick sonofabitch like Tyler Durden (at this point it would be good to point out that I never wanted to be a terrorist). I used the movie for evil, or a least I was evil in how I viewed the movie. I now view it in a morally edifying way. A movie can’t have a moral quality in vacuum (the existential aspect is necessary for the movies ethic.) The movie isn’t wicked sitting on my shelf. I think this is true with any art. You can view The Birth of Venus with respect for the artist, and with wonder at God’s gifts, or you can masturbate to it. The Art is the situation and there are decrees about how we should interact with it. Without interaction we can’t evaluate the art. David makes a good point: looking at nihilism can be edifying in the context of the truth. I think that context of truth will prevent viewing certain things as well. I comprehensively understand the evil that a pornographic snuff film portrays without watching one.

I absolutely admit that Fight Club makes an evil argument. If I listen to the argument, the movie has induced me to evil. If I argue back, the movie has been edifying and has strengthened my defenses. I think my main point is that good and evil are considerably more providential then inherent.

Watch this

http://www.hulu.com/watch/75946/dave-matthews-band-41-live-from-the-beacon-theatre

What the what?

WHO WAS IT?!

I will bless you

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Friends

I figured my folks would be very curious about the new friends I made over the school year. Not wanting to be put on the spot I made a list of just a few with the impression that the have imprinted on me in the last nine months. Obviously I've only given initials, but if you know me and know them then the identity should be obvious.

K- But by the grace of God be he the most dynamic Southern Baptist Preacher of the Twenty-First Century.
T- Stud.
B- God was having a rough day proportioning size and personality. Of course a compliment.
R- My artsy conscience.
J- Six matchsticks with a head held together by environmentally conscientious clothing and indie music.
D- You are Pluto… You know Goofy’s dog.
M- Made of bricks and laughs and sweat and strength and family and his Grandfather and God.
C- Brilliance hidden under a yellow hoodie.
J- You are a bicycle. Simply and unequivocally. Useful and commonplace and laughable in a math class.
J- Peter Jackson’s beard. Just his beard.
C- The word “bonehead” shouldn’t be construed as an insult, it is a compliment of the highest order.
R- I think you are your hair, wild and free and rare, but somehow perfectly suitable.
E- I imagine you being carried away over the shoulder of a Viking. I don’t know why.
R- For some reason I see you as a cynical PI working the Florida Retirement Home beat. Its probably the chest hair.

Battered by Travel I type incoherently

It is certainly a strange thing to leave home. Almost as strange as going back. When we leave home it is a revolt into nothing, a hopeless leap into an unknown. After a time, however, the unknown becomes known and more importantly becomes home. We dive headfirst into the dark future and let our eyes get accustomed until it seems very much like the present seemed. Going home is a Re-revolt, Devolution, going from light to light. By my estimation change is often regarded as an introduction. Commencement, if you will. We shake the dust off our sandals and keep walking. It is a strange feeling to return to the old dust. After a year away from home with every week laying some new spike strip or revealing a new golden ticket, I feel quite unprepared for 3 months of quietude, of constancy, of Maryland. But then again if this feeling is strange, it is also new. Strange means little more than unfamiliar, and if my thoughts of home are that of relative unfamiliarity, then going home is new. It is unfamiliar simply because of my recent falling out with familiarity. Home is completely familiar and yet not, like an old picture or forgotten shoes. A general expectation that the shoe will still fit holds at once an insult to your growth and a compliment to your constancy. It is difficult to close out this entry. I can’t write a conclusion because I have no conclusion. I can’t close out Moscow any more than I can prepare myself for Maryland its all strange, all new, all commencement, and all unfamiliar.

Sorry

Jeez Guys... sorry for the late great blog lameness. But guess what! Schools over! So hears what's on my mind.



Absolutely Nothing !!!!!

Ty

Hands

Bleeding knuckles drip
On rotten wood
Like red sweat off a wrinkled head.
Jagged nails rest on scarred fingers
Busted purple at the tip
Like helmets on witless soldiers,
Blithely following commands.
Real bruises remind that the hands
Are fully man’s:
The product of a hammer swinging slip.
I thought that carpentry
Had left my hands just like the Carpenter’s.
But I was wrong.
These are a soldier’s hands.
These knuckles bled as I beat Him.
These nails chipped as I pierced Him.
These hands bruised as I pounded Him
Into the cross.
I won’t make Pilot’s damn mistake.
I can’t
Wash the Carpenter’s blood from my hands.
It’s the only thing that covers my scars.