Molotov Cocktail
Independence day is nearly here. It is about this time of year that every sane male turns into a pyro; this is something my mom never understood. When I wanted to go buy fireworks she callously suggested that money spent on fireworks was akin to burning a $20 spot. Speaking of my mom, I’m going back to Kansas City this weekend to see my family and to have another wedding shower. Technically this is really the first shower I will ever attend. It is a couples wedding shower. Brittany can get towels and plates, and I can get saws and hammers. People should do this kind of stuff more often. Women get all kinds of things at their showers; I think there should be a male parallel of some sort. Call it a Man Bash or something. Load the guy up on tools and cigars...
Executive Decisions
I thought about posting last night, but thunder and lighting were dueling in the sky. So I decided to eavesdrop instead. I’m looking for a job it’s true. Killing my eyes with deadly computer monitor rays, clicking away at elusive postings, dirtying my hands with gritty dark newsprint–I hope for your own sake I’m describing a foreign world. I’ve had 2 and a half interviews. Two of them have been with the same “company.” About two weeks ago I was scrubbing the Classified section of the Dispatch when I stumbled upon a mysterious (yet provacative) entry. I decided to pounce upon the opportunity (inquire further) and dialed the number listed. It was later in the day so I had to settle with leaving a message. Early the next...
A Submission
I haven’t written for quite a while it seems. It’s been hard to find motivation or desire to write, though things have happened and I’ve been reading good material. Perhaps blogging is transitioning into a “discipline” phase. The story of late has been that of cruel monotonous job searching. Résumé after résumé, cover letter upon cover letter; all seemingly into the void, all futile summaries of my unwanted expertise. Our entire economic structure is built upon vocations and pastimes that have very little if any enduring significance. It exalts the meaningless bits of commodity over eternal metaphysical things. I doubt the business world holds Lewis’ maxim to heart: “All that is not eternal is eternally out of...
Static on the Line
It all began with a phone call. Cheerful banter; jokes; moments of intimate profundity transpiring toward playfulness. A conversation between lovers, what else? Heartfelt exchanges facilitated by radiowaves and batteries, Britt and I enjoying our relational community through one sense–the sense of sound. She was on her way home to where I was waiting patiently (a piece of toast in my hand, crumbs on my lips). “Ok, I’m here now, can we say goodbye so I can come in?” “Sure, Goodbye.” “Goodbye” I shut the phone with a smile on my face and listened for the garage door to creak open. Britt walked in and then into my arms. The telephone is one part of a perfect metaphor for Christian metaphysical reality. It’s just...
Ode to an Antihero
It’s not that you’reCaught between virtue and viceIt’s that you lie stillScratch a little, as if looking for lice.Have I mentioned how beautiful you are,Your eyes reflecting in the moon?You’re like a stillborn butterflyStuck and dying in its cocoon.H is for Harmartia,Is it fate-driven or choice?The only tragedy hereIs your refusal to have a voice.You’re a toothless lionWithout a prideBut it’s too hot to hunt today,So just be still and lie on your side. del.icio.us : Poetry