sounds for the masses
I have sporadically recorded a good number of songs onto my iBook. Usually I would, with a cup of mint tea, sit down in front of the little hole that serves as a microphone, click the red recording button on Audacity (yes, its free) and carefully belt out one-take renditions of my songs with the hope that the relative distance between my mouth and the micro (phone) hole and my guitar and the hole was “right.” Anyway, I’ve decided to post some of these recordings for you. They will come one by one, so look back for more if you like this first one. You’re My Father (3.9mb) del.icio.us : Music...
flicker
I found myself sitting in a state of near unconsciousness for much of my break earlier today. Zoned out and folded in a chair with one leg splayed out and my eyes fixated on the floor with a glazed-over stare. Occasionally thoughts would flicker through my mind like static on a cheap television, but I never stirred, I never moved until I had to. It’s been harder and harder to come here. I just want to be done and move on. The challenge is to LIVE (instead of merely exist) in the present NOW, rather than to always long for a future that will provide welcome relief from whatever oppressive and unwelcome existence we’re able to maintain now (in the hope, always in the hope of something better). But the Kingdom of God is at hand. So the dialectic compels...
fashion genius
Academics are strange birds. They generally have several eccentric views on obscure (or known) subjects that are either completely unknown to the majority of people, or are known but regarded as just plain weird. Along with their odd (in relation to the masses) mental behavior, they have another chief characteristic, which in many ways is far more notable and hilariously delightful, though oft times may come across as rather alarming. Of course, anyone who has studied at an institute of higher learning, or rather, studied under a life-academician, should have an idea of what I am referring to. Professorial Attire. Yes, I’m talking, of course, about how the egg-heads dress themselves. Generally, one can almost gauge the brilliance of a teaching PH.D. by the...
A free rock
I had an adventure last night. I am an alley-skulking, authority-wheedling, shortcut-taking rock star follower–and I am victorious. Shortly after filling up on mint tea, Matt, Garth and I piled into Garth’s ancient Volvo for our British rock crusade. Snow Patrol was playing down at the Newport and tickets were actually in our price range ($5). We arrived fashionably late–as true music snobs, we certainly weren’t going to subject ourselves to the opening act. After getting a perfect parking spot and ramming countless nickels and dimes into our parking meter, we ran across the street to the yawning chasm that doubled as the entryway into Brit-Pop-Paradise. “Sorry boys, sold out,” was the harsh and unexpected blow that greeted us...
hole-punched canopy
Last night was a beautiful evening. A dark, perfectly clear, hole-punched canopy to lean back and stare at, candles and fire that whispered warmly with the light breeze, and deep encouraging community and dialogue with a friend who will be leaving soon–all this propelled with the sweet force of apple pie and spicy tea. We talked about new things the Lord is doing in our lives, about how he is broadening our hearts to graciously encompass those things in and about the Church and the body that have at times driven us to anger and despair and even to wholesale rejection. We shared about the desire to love others and to serve, and also about how easy it is to live for ourselves; to reject others and things simply because of differing versions and locations of...