a false identity

Getting Rad

2007-01-06T09:49:00.000-08:00

Snowboarding Two Days Ago:
I have been snowboarding since 1991 and somehow managed to ride the funnest frontside turn that I have ever done in my life! Amazing frontside slasher on this double overhead windlip! Riding under the chair lift we will often get cheered for different jumps or dropping cliffs and such...but never for simply doing a turn on the snow. This turn was different: the whole chair lift was cheering and yelling and I rode the rest of the run down with my hands on my head in the shape of horns and yelling. I obviously snowboard for the glory.

Snowboarding Yesterday:
Imagine that there is so much snow falling that, on one of the resort runs, a ski patrol skidoo is stuck! Crazy amounts of snow.
Anyhow, my brother Jabin and I spent the day riding fresh pow, pillaging chutes, dropping some decent size cliffs, and just generally getting rad. Third last run of the day we dropped into this steep untouched face (in the dark) that was pretty unstable. I led and as I made my first turn the snow about 30 feet above me fractured and slabbed down sweeping Jabin, who was behind me, down the slope. He yelled and, as I turned around to see what was going on, I was hit with a wall of snow that carried me until the all the snow stopped moving. Crazy experience! We were both buried nearly to our waist, were safe, and were all smiles! A good reminder to for us to respect the mountains.

-Jer

Music is Everywhere.

2006-12-02T12:38:00.000-08:00

So, in case you were at all wondering, I did get the free guitar that I was searching out. My thanks to Josh Hyslop and The Road Less Travelled for the hook up...I even got a free pick out of the deal!

I've been faithfully guitaring for three weeks now and, as a new guitarer, have come to the realization that all of the music that has and ever will be played on the guitar is already there in the neck and strings. I just have to find it.

That was a pretty freeing thought actually. I'm not learning music, I'm finding it. And then I started thinking that, if I knew how to find it, there just might be music in everything.
-e.d.

Life is About Rhythm.

2006-11-27T02:03:00.000-08:00

I had an idea. It took us on a trip.

Once arriving on VanIsle there was a 4 hour drive north followed by another couple of hours of bumping and rattling along on rutted out logging roads. At the end of the road and at the edge of civilization is where we left our van and set out on the 90minute hike through BC’s ancient rainforest which, to our total enjoyment, deposited us on a massive sand beach pounded by the cold Pacific surf. The next piece of land from there? Japan. Or so I liked to imagine.

The beach, world class and empty – except for two girls, stretched out for a couple of km’s littered with drift wood, fishing boat salvage, gorgeous sunsets, and plenty of room to think and write. No TV. No cell phones. No laptops. No music. No distraction. I sat for hours – literally – just simply watching the tides.

The surf and the tides, like a fire on a summer night, are mesmerizing. There seems to be a certain rhythm and flow of the waves as they crash in against the beach that draws you in and hardly lets you go. That spell on me was interrupted as a lone surfer walked across the beach towards the water at high tide…the surfer, fully clothed, was mostly the silhouette of a girl that I watched paddle out to enjoy life and live at only the momentum of the ocean. No faster. No slower. Simply in rhythm.
-e.d.

Evangelicals in The News Again...

2006-11-04T14:12:00.000-08:00

The news has been abuzz with controversy surrounding the allegations that leading evangelical pastor Ted Haggard had a three-year homosexual relationship with a male prostitute that included drug use. Haggard is pastor of a 14,000-member church in Colorado, president of the National Association of Evangelicals that has some 30 million members, friend of men like George Bush, and outspoken opponent of homosexuality and gay marriage.

Read more here in the Globe and Mail.

Read Mark Driscol's thoughts on the matter here.
-e.d.

tags: Ted Haggard

A Def'n of Foo:

2006-11-02T14:06:00.000-08:00

November 17th is the day that you can go and pick up my longtime favorites NEW CD. The most amazing thing is that today...that's right...today, you can go and listen to the whole thing on their myspace acount. It's called Skin and Bones by the mighty mighty Foo Fighters.
Oh my.

On another note; I am looking for free or cheap (in that order) an accoustic guitar.
-Jer

2006-11-02T09:49:00.000-08:00

Great quote from one of my favorite authors,

Particles of raw inspiration sleet through the universe all
the time. Every once in a while one of them hits a receptive mind, which then
invents DNA or the flute sonata form or a way of making light bulbs wear out in
half the time. But most of them miss. Most people go through their whole lives
without being hit by even one.

Some people are even more
unfortunate. They get them all.

-Terry Pratchet

Your Right - It is Ludicrous.

2006-10-29T17:24:00.000-08:00

Tonight, on The Hour, George Stroumboulopolos interviews Ludacris and asks an interesting question:

George: “You thank God all the time but your lyrics and video’s are not what God and the pastors want to hear. Why is that?”
Ludacris: “He who is without sin, cast the first stone.”

Find the whole interview here.
Interesting. Now go shake your moneymaker!
-Jer

Hazmat Leftovers

2006-10-29T13:41:00.000-08:00

The rock opera of the year finally landed in stores last week Tuesday and has enjoyed phenomenal success; the third and much anticipated release of My Chemical Romance was every bit of theatrical emo/punk as the hype leading up to the release claimed it would be! Lead singer Gerard Way and his cast of supporting characters have outdone themselves in creating an experimental album that forces you to listen more then just once. The sounds and progressions of this album reminds me a lot of Green Day’s American Idiot album (same producer) mixed with the clever poetry brought to you by Ben Gibbard and Death Cab for Cutie. If you’ve seen the Black Parade video you can expect more of the same throughout the album’s dark review of life. What’s captivating isn’t so much the dark themes that surround it, but rather the passion, commitment, and craftsmanship that went into this record. The searing emotions, arena style sounds, and storytelling of this album makes it a keeper. Go get it!
-Jer
tags: My Chemical Romance, rock opera

postalpedia

2006-10-27T11:59:00.000-07:00

According to postalpedia, the word ‘qualitify’ represents the idea of ‘measuring imagined quality.’ It is the distinctive characteristics that everyone knows are there but can’t quite see because they are feeling based, conceptual, and live only in the realm of imagination. It is very hard to give standard measurements to anything that is qualitified.
We now return to regular programing.
-e.d.

How Much Iron is in Your Diet?

2006-10-24T17:30:00.000-07:00

Ok - so here is something interesting; Iron Maiden - Iron Freaking Maiden - their new album debuted at number 1...read that again just to make you feel good. Old timer stadium rockers who gave preachers plenty to preach against in 80's and 90's debuted their newest album at number 1 on the INDIE charts! INDIE?! What the heck! Who runs these things? Unfreakinbelievable! Iron Maiden is not indie....
Run to the hills!
tags: Iron Maiden

Time to Run for Governor

2006-10-23T09:01:00.000-07:00

If there was an all time low in the history of film it would be Clint Eastwood directing movies. If you haven’t been put through the agony of “The Flags of our Fathers” yet…I would recommend, for my sake, that you go and share in the same dismal and slow storyline that I sat through. If this film had been any longer I might have shot myself or, at very least, tried to stare into the projector’s bulb to burn out my retina. This film has set a new standard for low in the WWI genre of film and will hopefully inspire Eastwood’s retirement from Hollywood.
tags: Flags of our Fathers, Clint Eastwood

Come back...later.

2006-09-18T16:48:00.000-07:00

All posting will be at my other blog for now unitl later.
Appreciate everyone who reads and comments!
Have a remarkable day.
-Jer

Bearly Legal

2006-09-01T08:28:00.000-07:00

There is an area that we rockclimb in called ‘skull rocks’ so named for the two bear skulls that we found a couple of years ago. We had set up these skulls as the welcoming decoration into one of the climbing areas and felt that they somehow protected our area from intruders – not that they actually did…it was just the myth we attached to them. You might be able to imagine our disappointment and growing sense of fear when we found one of them missing and the other one smashed this summer; our icons were gone - the climbing area no longer safe.

Last night, after two weeks of not climbing at ‘skull rocks’, Candace, Andrew, and I stumbled across the decaying bodies of two dead bears. It was really quite sad to see these magnificent animals lying there butchered and killed for the sport or greed of some poacher. The first bear that we found had been dumped there with in the last day or so and was only missing “his boys”; some birds had also gotten into his intestines and dragged them out for lunch. This bear, other then the stench and open belly, was still really cute. The second bear, we found only about 30 feet away from the first one, would have been dumped sometime in the last 2 weeks while we were away and was much further along in the “from dust to dust” process. It was mostly bone with bits of skin and flesh still exposed and black hair laying around the perimeter of what I imagine would have been the mass of its body. One of the hind legs of this bear still had skin and flesh up to what I suppose would have been the knee – hairless, wrinkled, and black it reminded me of the burnt and charred remains of life that you see in the movies. An image I won’t soon forget. This bear was missing all of its claws and its skull had been crushed into small fragments – only the jaw bone still identifiable.

I hadn’t come across a bear since earlier this summer when we both rounded a corner to face each other within fifteen feet. The bear and I were both alone and, I like to imagine, that it was as freaked out as much as I was. We starred at each other for a couple of minutes and, the longer I looked at it, the more comfortable I became. The heart racing fear that is natural in those situations turned to heart racing response to the beauty and power of creation; it was amazing. Moments later the bear ambled off into the forest and I continued on my route thanking God for His beautiful world that He has commanded that we care and tend for.

Fish and Game authorities are investigating this morning.

Yesterday is Forever

2006-08-29T23:04:00.000-07:00

The update that all one of you have been so eagerly waiting for:
1. I’ve been climbing likely more then you’ve been working.
2. I’ve been writing like crazy.
3. I’ve read a few good books.
4. I’ve been trying to let creativity be the workshop for my imagination.
5. I’ve been looking forward to a new season of writing at the eclectivity is more fun blog.
6. See ya there in wee bit.

As You Were.

2006-08-15T15:29:00.000-07:00

There are words and ideas that should never
ever
be stopped. Behind everything of great and lasting value, deep significance, and counter convention is the idea that will never die. The hope that there is more, the belief that there is something better, and the radical eccentricity to see it happen.
I hope you have enjoyed the comfort of your familiarity.
Take a closer look.
I’ve discovered a lie and I see its cover-up.
I’m finished.
.

Thought Association

2006-08-10T19:19:00.000-07:00

If you read past this first little paragraph - I'm sorry. What follows is hardly worth reading and I am sure that it is destined to be another piece of refuse on the blog garbage dump...so again, I am sorry. However, if you do find a moment to read through understand that I go through bits of insomnia-like nights for weeks on end. Last night was night one of what I hope will not see night two. The other thing that you should understand is that I wasn't trying to write so much as I was trying to see where a thought association would take me. If you don't know, it's like a word association; e.g. sky, star, hollywood, brad pitt, troy, war, peace, hippie, etc., but with thoughts. I re-read this today and wondered how I jumped from one thought to another - but it doesn't matter. Try it out sometime...

What happens when you don’t care anymore? How many times should I try and explain myself to myself…if I can’t get me then who in their right mind would? Tragedy and hope live together in the basement of a flooded house in Winnipeg. Mosquito larvae, live downed power lines, and boots with holes in them keep this odd twosome as happy as the grim reaper in a world that loves rationalism. How can I care if everything is an extreme or mediocrity of something else? Did you know if you press your tongue to the top of your mouth your neck muscle’s act stronger? They do. Are they any stronger? Nope. Maybe reincarnation is partially true if we were to consider that the atoms that make you you have been around long before you and will be here long after you are gone. Being you is not a gratifying experience at the atomic level; for all their devoted attention to your existence they actually don’t care about you…they don’t even know that you are there…or that they are there. It is a bit interesting to think that if you were able to pick yourself apart with tweezers, one atom at a time, you would produce a mound of fine atomic dust, none of which had ever been alive but all of which had once been you. Yet for the short stretch of time known as your existence they answer the miracle of life impulse that keeps you you. The bad news is that atoms are fickle and their time of devotion to you is short-lived; even a long human life adds up only to about 650,000 hours. And when that modest milestone flashes past, or at some other point thereabouts, for reasons unknown your atoms will shut you down, silently disassemble, and go off to be other things. And that’s it for you. Did you know that I have finally figured out why dreaming is so hard for me? I can’t sleep. Have you ever been to an honest funeral? It seems that only good people die; if you’re bad do they not give you a funeral or do funerals just cancel out all the debt and bad? I wonder how many times you can die inside before you know you are dead? And what happens when you know you are dead? Do you stop feeling? The same questions haunt sane people who suspect they are insane…but the insane never ponder if they are nuts or not. I have a theory about anyone who asks, “What is my purpose?” If you’ve asked that question then there is a pretty good chance that your purpose is trying to re-connect with you. The difference in life is just a matter of one space; it comes between a ‘w’ and an ‘h’ in a word that you would have trouble finding if it was nowhere. I heard that somewhere once and it stuck in my head. “If a man’s steps are directed by the Lord, how then can anyone understand his own way.” An ancient piece of wisdom. And now my modern (or postmodern or pre-modern or post-christian or whatever the heck) thought: maybe I shouldn’t care so much.

Not Sure How My Mind Wandered Here.

2006-08-09T23:40:00.000-07:00

What would it be like if God complained? What would he complain about? The anthropomorphic reality that he is would probably say something like this:

Do you know what it is like having a memory so good that you even remember what
hasn’t happened yet? That’s me. Oh yes, terrible really. It is as though there
is no future…only the past that hasn’t happened yet. Dreadful. Do you have any
idea how heavy that thought is? The yet to happen past?

Re-read that last bit and imagine God is complaining in a polite and English accent. It may make the words dance a little clearer for you.
-e.d.

the Alpha Male.

2006-08-08T09:53:00.000-07:00

Man in his primal state and smell; strong and ready to fight, a champion and ladies man, an ego the size of TV evangelists’ hair, and only a few straws short of a haystack. A very entertaining lot! And I suppose that is why I found myself this weekend at two radically different events that were exactly the same; the rodeo which was full of cowboys, wrangler butts, and girls oogling them…and…at a hip-hop show with the Swollen Members, saggy butts, and girls oogling them.

Keep it gang starr.

For anyone keeping track of the style watch; the metrosexual is on his way out the 'backdoor' and alpha male is resurging as the dominate trend in style, fashion, and badittude. I'm not sure where pomosexual fits in though.

Tidal D

2006-08-05T10:32:00.000-07:00

One of the great advantages of living outside of time is that you would never have to go to the bathroom. However, every person every day, we hope, must fulfill certain obligatory duties at certain times in the water-closet; some are as regular as paparazzi catching Brittney Spears doing something ridiculous and others as irregular as a Hollywood marriage lasting more then 5 minutes. I am one of those regular folks who sets his schedule around the reoccurring themes of the bat-cave.

I am highly particular when it comes to the bathroom. Clean, well kept, a visible back up stock of TP, Uncle John’s Bathroom reader, and quietness. No music, no talking through the door, no cell phones, no rattling door knobs, and no company. The porcelain thrown is, in some regards, a sanctuary; a sanctuary that must never be held in irreverence.

Unless, of course, you are camping.

A fallen log will do fine to lean against. Your leg muscles will burn. There are leaves you should and shouldn’t use; I would never recommend skunk cabbage…too waxy, don’t use stinging nettles for obvious reasons, and pine cones are only for the tough. Choose a well wooded area with oak and maple saplings surrounding and, if you are feeling particularly adventuress, use the outhouse.

This week I did neither.

I used a much cleaner, colder, odder, and highly effective technique; the tidal flush. If truth be told, it was actually more of a surf flush. The technique is non-wipe and simple; de-textile completely, walk/swim into the ocean, get duty-free, and then catch a wave and body surf back to the beach. Simple.

Unless a sneaker wave steals your towel.

Unless a friend has a camera.

Unless between the ocean and being not-complete-nude is 200 yards of sandy beach.

Simple.

Realms of Distraction

2006-07-17T22:48:00.000-07:00

The realm of reality is, believe it or not, where most of us live.* Unfortunately, I am not sure that anyone really knows what realm of reality anyone else is living in. Sure, together We have a vague idea of who We are because of who They are……but really, who are They? And if They changed – do you?

There are certain spaces where eccentricity is normal. There are just as many spaces that are normal because there are eccentrics. After all, They and We and I derive the notions of what it means to be normal by continual reference to the They around We. Normal is only normal because of the context that humans find themselves in.

And so there just may be multiple realms. And if I am right, there just might be multiple loop holes. And if We could travel in those loop holes then maybe We could know ourselves? And then maybe They would stop creating the social contexts that are full of red lights? And I know I should never start a sentence with ‘and’. And I don’t care.

*Except for those few gifted souls who rhyme ‘orange’ with ‘door hinge’ and understand that there are loop holes in and out of realms like there are loop holes in and out of normalness, punk shows, and any complicated system. This population lives most of its life in padded rooms wondering when everyone else will get it.

Happy Footbagging

2006-07-17T09:14:00.000-07:00

Time well wasted.
Watch the video.
Good find Cody!!

Swear words.

2006-07-13T23:09:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel like screaming. Like right now for example.

Deep throaty and manly screams. Screams that are laced with all kinds of profanity but are so ‘hells bells.ish’ that no one would recognize a single syllable of color. Today and yesterday have been among the most frustrating days of the last few days; I woke up yesterday opened my computer and everything was gone. Stolen. Or lost. Or hidden. I can deal with hidden.

But I’m tired of looking. I’m tired of not having a wireless internet connection. I am tired of not having access to my Outlook. I hate, no, I loathe using my hotmail account. The mouse with worms in it yesterday was more enjoyable.

I am starting to believe the Mac ads. You wouldn’t believe what happened. I downloaded the new Windows update and it destroyed my start up configuration…leaving me gasping and grasping and clasping and feeling faint.

Please, if you would, enjoy a scream for me.
-e.d.

Sour Faced Dancing

2006-07-12T09:59:00.000-07:00

Honesty has a dancing partner, her name is Disappointment. And she is scandalous. The worst of her kind, a designed-in-the-USA-made-to-kill threat to Honesty. If she where a fish she would be a cat-fish swimming in a river so polluted that only maps could tell it was a river. She would scavenge food and garbage and rotting life from the river bottom and belch fish burps that would make swamp dragons jealous. If Disappointment belonged to a guild she would drink watered down beer and wear cheap perfume in the hotel of the guild of thieves. She would wear a red dress and smoke long filtered cigarettes with the intent to seduct Honesty; to trap him in a dark alley and silently steal Honesty’s wallet. A pickpocket. If she were a hotel that you booked online Disappointment would be that one-star dumpy hotel that claimed to be five-star on the beach. It is really too bad that Honesty, who apparently many people want to be friends with, has never been quite clever enough to avoid this devious girl…and so honesty stops dancing.

technorati tags: honesty, disappointment

Shared Space

2006-07-07T11:59:00.000-07:00

Imagine that you are on a steep mountainside and you are tired after a long days stumble through the underbrush and fallen logs. Not only are you tired, you are thirsty, a little sleepy, and more then a little wary of the approaching Darkness. Across the ancient flood plains of what now is a lake rises another steep mountain highlighted by two distinct features; one, it is a mountain, and two, there is a small glow of light piercing out into the Darkness, across the lake, and into your head.

The most amazing thing is that the Light, once inside your head, allows you to almost be an active part of its origins; a warm flickering light inside a small rustic cabin. However, if the Light really did allow you to be apart of things it would contradict all known laws of anything…and so you can only observe.

The first thing you notice is the obvious rustic nature of this cabin; walls that could tell stories back nearly a century, views that settlers wrote home to the east about, and rock bluff foundations that shivered through ice ages. Inside you will find simplicity. A Celtic cross and a candle stand with red candles, a wood stove, kerosene lamps, a beautiful piece of poetry written lopsided on an overhead wall, an eclectic of theology, plant life, and novel in the book case, and a wall filled with the reminders of the dark riches of togetherness. Traditions says that when you enter this secret place you must drink Scotch from the quaich…a right of passage.

The second thing you would notice is the deep honesty that each man is forced to settle with as they spend those moments that we call days in this place. It is a rich brotherhood between men who share this space; its code is ‘a place to get away and re-connect with who we really are, away from the noise of the city, a space where each individual leaves something of themselves and takes something of themselves away.’ In the ongoing history found in the log books are the deep and lasting entries of men and the occasional woman who has been faced with them selves; the stories of where and when we are revealed to ourselves. It is a multi-biography of people in the deepest sense of shared history.

A dear friend, on Dec. 27, 2003, penned these words, “It is amazing that people come here and can’t help but reflect on life. Authenticity has been enforced here.” Thank you to those I have shared wine, laughter, and history with.

Technorati Tags secret place, history, friendship

Merry Canada Dayish!

2006-07-03T22:45:00.000-07:00

Howdy dowdy – I hope everyone is doing fine. I know I am. Fine looking that is.
Anyhow, what a great weekend! I hope everyone had a blast, stayed safe, and made memories. My weekend was full to the absolute max; here’s the breakdown. Two nights of camping, a full day of hard bouldering in Squamish, a wedding, crazy dancing with crazy people in a crazy hot hall, fireworks, close friends sharing two sleeping bags in a field late at night sharing an amazing conversation, a trip for two to the doctor, late night hot tubing, bouldering with friends and new friends in Hope, a boat, tube warfare and wake boards, and a bowl of cherries.

Deep memories. Deep conversations. Deep stories. All colliding into one. I love it.
New shizzle blogizzle this wizzle. Ya dig?

Mourning::it's a sad thing.

2006-06-29T12:09:00.000-07:00

The day, as it where, is broken down into many different little pieces of time; some call these pieces seconds, minutes, and hours while others prefer to simply say today. In my mind, ‘today’ is far too broad and ‘hours and minutes’ seems to be a little too restrictive. I prefer and use dawn, morning, afternoon, late afternoon, evening, night, and bed to describe and schedule my day. I suppose, in a round about way, I could also describe the evolution of a lifetime in the same way. Dreams too. And experiments.

I do most of my living in the balanced part of the day; nothing extreme, rarely staying up when the schedule says bed and even more rarely getting up when the schedule says dawn. As such, dawn has become something of a mystery to me – I’m not sure exactly what it is and so I allow myself to imagine the bits and pieces of dawn.

Generally, the night belongs to punk roarak, mornings to breakfast and newspapers, day time belongs to noise and appointments, and evening belongs to Seinfeld and climbing. The cusp of day belongs to nobody except maybe seagulls, the pre-morning mist that mixes with the all ready over crowded farm air in Abbotsford, and that lazy one eyed cat who is on his eighth life.

Come to think of it, if Dawn was a person it would be felion-ified by that lazy one eyed cat emerging from under the hood of a volvo with only partial tail. Dawn, thankfully, is haggard and scruffy with not much biography left and even less biography to tell. Dawn speeds by before you know it; then you get up.

Most dreams and experiments are only pieces of Dawn. Then you get up.

Lao Tzu

2006-06-28T11:20:00.000-07:00

Fighting is apart of hockey otherwise there wouldn’t be rules against it. The same is true with diving soccer players. In the same way, sin is apart of living otherwise there wouldn’t be rules against it.

Most often we can only ascribe value to something because of what is not there. For example, a water bottle is useful because it contains empty space. Doors, windows, the hole in the top of your socks, tunnel entrances, and straws are only useful because they are gaps in something.

Our eyes will be quick to judge beauty based on the absence of ugliness, significance in the absence of pithy, and life in the absence of death. The value, beauty, significance, and life of what is there lies in what is not there.

Nacho!

2006-06-26T22:20:00.000-07:00

Nacho! Nacho! Nacho! I’m cheering for you padre!

Jack Black and Napoleon Dynamite director Jared Hess team up and deliver the perfect movie to watch when its too hot outside and too cold inside; Nacho Libre. Funny stuff, though, not nearly as many good one liners to annoy everyone with….maybe just a few good Mexican accents to throw around while eating tortillas on a patio.

I’ll place a bet that youth pastors across the nation are going to use this movie in sermon illustrations until even they are sick of their perfect one liner jokes. My money is on the table.

Other then that, if you don’t like Jack Black (which there are many reasons not to), don’t like Napoleon Dynamite (again, many reasons not to), don’t like wrestling (no reason not to), and don’t like Mexican food (I’m sorry if you don’t), then you should probably still pay the $8 to go see the preview for “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby” with Will Ferrell. I was embarrassed because I was laughing so hard!!

‘When you become a man you will wear tight stretchy pants in your bedroom by yourself for fun’
-Nacho.

::trust

2006-06-26T17:47:00.000-07:00

There are certain things that we trust and certain things that we do not trust. It seems, and maybe you have noticed, that the things we are inclined to trust are the things that we very much want to trust. For example, we very much want to trust airline pilots and the out of order sign on the pay parking meter. Nobody double checks to see if the machine is actually out of order; they are just happy to go with it and not pay.

However, when you have a flat tire in Hickville, CA and the tire place says, “closed” you still check all the doors, peer into all of the windows, and knock on the front, side, and back entrances. When all else has failed, you call the shop hoping that there might just possibly be someone inside to answer your desperate call for help. You very much do not want to trust the “closed” sign on the front door.

Isn’t it very interesting that we only trust what we want to trust? I think it is. I think that is why I so very much want to trust in a God who forgives and a grace that is…well…gracious. Because I need it.

A Subversive Story.

2006-06-23T09:38:00.000-07:00

Today, marketing guru Seth Godin and downtown pastor Paul Moores, have each hit on one of the most fascinating aspects of the story of Jesus. The deep subversive and hard to see one. Read Seth’s post first and then read and leave your comments at Paul’s post.

It’s Friday night! Party down….
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The Story of Science

2006-06-22T20:05:00.000-07:00

I read stories and write about stories more then I am admitting to right now. I actually fear that I am becoming a bit of geek, in fact, I first realized this when I admitted that the smell of books is better then a lot of things.

Humans simply love to tell stories…it is somehow attached to our very nature. As long as, and no doubt before, there have been camp fires to sit around there have been stories to tell. The manipulating of fire, or, in other words, the advancement of science, has been instrumental in the continuing of these stories. Or maybe it is the other way around?

Without the storyteller science is useless. It is true that science deals with objective facts, observation, and controlled experiments, however, how this objective data is assembled involves a degree of imagination, i.e. theories. And what are theories? Theories are nothing more then stories hiding under another name.

If it wasn’t for story we would still be walking on all fours living in a cave and wondering about how to style our unibrows. Story is the advancement of humanity; I wonder what the correlation is to the individual story? Stories move you forward.
-e.d.

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Mindfreak

2006-06-22T00:36:00.000-07:00

So today was summer solstice; and by today, I suppose I mean yesterday. A mid-summers day. The longest day of the year in the northern hemi-sphere. Among the four highest days of Wiccan sabbat in the entire year. I imagine there is a great party full of naked witches dancing in the Stonehenge as I type this. But we’ll not imagine that for too long.

Oddly enough, I don’t have to imagine too hard. Actually, if you replaced Stonehenge with beautiful sunset beach then I don’t really have to imagine at all. More realistically, it may be something I want to forget...

Anyhow, this all got me thinking about performer Criss Angel, and no, not Criss Angel naked. He is something isn’t he? I’ve been wanting to catch one of his TV shows for ages and finally got the chance to just this evening. Wow! His slight of hand and illusions are outstanding; absolutely mind boggling. And then I thought of the witches. Scary stuff.

witches + criss angel + stonehenge

The Story Inside

2006-06-20T14:31:00.000-07:00

Each one of us harbor deep hidden and subversive stories that may never escape the confines of our minds. Tragic. Tragic that these stories are never shared, tragic that these lifetimes are capped, and tragic that they are tragic. Often times, these great and lasting stories never reveal themselves due to the simple fact that these stories have too many unanswered questions.

What will they think?
Will I be embarrassed?
Do I trust enough?
How grace giving is my community?
What does this story say about me?

Hidden stories are tragic because they are cowardly stories. Your own secrets breed conspiracy theories against yourself and against the people around you. How dare we inflict ourselves with this!

Here and Now.

2006-06-19T15:31:00.000-07:00

“Live what you were meant to live!”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t even a command. It was simply an irrefutable statement.

And so I wonder about my dreams; I wonder why my dreams are always free and the rest of the time I need a pay check. I wonder why dreams are always threaten by progress. I wonder if dreams are not so much a preferred picture of the future so much as they are an inspiring picture of the past. I wonder if dreams are destiny that went horribly wrong. I wonder if there is anything worse then being dead and still being alive to suffer it. I wonder if dreams are simply the distractions of the all important here and now. They might be.

There are some questions that are unanswerable; like, for example, “Why does everyone run towards a blood-curdling scream?” It is contrary to normal sense but mysteriously intuitive. Like Dreaming.

New Noise.

2006-06-14T12:26:00.000-07:00

Leave your name and:
1. I'll respond with something random about you
2. I'll challenge you to try something
3. I'll pick a color that I associate with you
4. I'll tell you something I like about you
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of
7. I'll ask you something I've always wanted to ask you

Thanks to my friend Carissa for this.
e.d.

Can You Remember a Noise if You Never Noticed it While it was a Noise?

2006-06-13T10:03:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed that there are noises that you never hear until the noise stops? All of a sudden, this 'so obvious it's not obvious' sound stops being sound and it becomes a blaring silence; the kind of silence that is louder and more awkward then the noise ever could have been. It is a silent type of loudness that can disrupt a good sleep, make a great meal taste like mac and cheese, and a beautiful afternoon in the sun becomes only a moment while a week of rain feels like an eternity.

Have yo ever noticed that there are expectations that you never notice until the expectation stops? All of a sudden, this 'so obvious it's not obvious' expectation stops being noise and it becomes a blaring silence; the kind of silence that is louder and more awkward then the noise ever could have been. It is a silent type of loudness that can disrupt a good sleep, make a great meal taste like mac and cheese, and a beautiful afternoon in the sun becomes only a moment while a week of rain feels like an eternity.

Today is the end of expectation. Tomorrow is a different noise.

I Find Myself Staring...

2006-06-11T21:43:00.000-07:00

Ever since the dawn of time man has been looking for the very thing that Adam had; a beautiful naked woman who would help him. Any serious Bible scholar would notice that, with every round of creating, God just simply got better and better. This is why I think women were created last; the pinnacle and height of creation.

Unfortunately, like any good video game, each round of creating produced a slightly more complex system of atoms, molecules, and cells. Woman. The ying for man’s yang.

And this is why I think they drive me so crazy – they are operating at a whole other level of complexity. This is the level where guys, no matter how in touch they are with their feminine side, can not play……unless they break a few rules. And so, like any good video game, here are the cheats:

1. Remember that a foot massage always works.

Yes, there is only one.
Enjoy your evening.
- e.d.

Give Yourself a Hug

2006-06-10T15:45:00.000-07:00

Today was my quota for loving.*

In fact, if there had been any more loving the world might have gone crazy…a few days too late. I’m thankful that today’s love, like any well marketed revival, was scheduled, uniformed, entirely creative, and only mildly embarrassing. The actual love was scheduled until noon, however, by some slight of hand by someone wanting a bit more love, I was forced to love for an extra half of an hour. This, I feel strongly about, is not acceptable.

Thankfully, I can now resume my life.

*There are certain bits and pieces of writing that are consider to be in the genre of truth. This is not one of them. In fact, if truth be told, today seemed to be a particularly well executed bought of contrived love. Similar to that gold fish you bought that tarnished a few days later.

W is for Witch

2006-06-09T10:04:00.000-07:00

Boredom is about as fun as living inside a black cat. My whole life has been charred by the ugly stains of Boredom who, much like an inefficient assassin, has been taking erratic stabs at who I am. It actually isn’t really a fun place to live. Of course, its Boring.

I’ve heard it said that the difference between the demi-gods Genius and Insanity is a thin line; the problem is that nobody really knows what that line is. I would suggest that the line has something do with IV lines, extended hospital visits, and padded rooms. People have very strange ideas of Genius; high IQ, inventive, and quirky, however, what most people fail to realize is that the most Genius thing that a Genius can do is not end up with IV lines, extended hospital visits, and padded rooms.

The cracked and wild toothy grin of Boredom and her coven enjoy manipulating Her lines of engagement. She knows that the right mixture of circumstance, success, failure, isolation, community, and premonition can either drive the afflicted into a dull Insanity or lucid Creativity. It seems, though, that Her lines are much more transparent and harder to define then Genius’…they simply exist for the function of saying that they are, in fact, there. A type of small god protocol. Unfortunately, my current present lives with the bitter aftertaste of a shackled Creativity.

Anyone want to watch Fight Club with me?

2006-06-08T15:04:00.001-07:00

There are items of life that are deeper paradox's then we care to admit. For example, the sporting event of sporting events, the Olympics, encourages one of the most ridiculous sports known to man and is only participated in by woman. A 'sport' that values bobby pins, make up, nail polish, sparkles, and speedo's is bound to be named something that simply doesn't make any sense: solo synchronized swimming.

Does anyone else see the glaring irony of this? Honestly. What are these girls synchronizing too? What is the line between some crazy woman splashing around in a pool by herself and some painted solo synchronized swimmer? These girls are in synch........but to what? The music? Ok, maybe. But then how come dashboard drumming in traffic doesn't earn the me gold medals?

There are enough bits of tension in life that we have given these tensions a name: a paradox. The life of paradox is much like the life of absurdity except that it is its opposite. Imagine a piece of toast actually landing right side up. Now because laws of absurdity dictate that it should land upside down, the fact that it landed right side up presents a problem, a paradox. If you will.

I realized that I am actually having temporary trouble with the nature of reality, or, if I could phrase it differently, I am urgently grasping at the same reality that a Brad Pitt cardboard cut-out is. How could two seemingly contradictory things be equally true? Wouldn't it be nice if reality related to everything? A paradox. If you will.

6/6/06

2006-06-07T16:52:00.000-07:00

Well, it turns out that the world can breathe a collective sigh of relief; though, yesterday was a beautiful day for an apocalypse. More importantly, if you are a hexakosioihexekontahexaphobiac, you should be able to return to your regular sleep patterns.

For anyone who bet on the 10:1 odds that the world would end at gambling website betUS.com you are pretty lucky you didn't win. I mean seriously, if you had won and the world did end yesterday....how would you have collected your winnings? Gee.

Scary.

Laws of Absurdity

2006-06-05T22:10:00.000-07:00

My pen yelled at me last night. 'Bloody murder!" it screamed.

Not sure you've heard a pen scream before, but if you have, you know that it's not as much fun as juggling burning coals. Dark inky blotches of anger somehow always find there way onto anything white, valuable, or dry-cleanable only. Imagine your freshly peanut buttered toast landing right side up. That's a hard thing to imagine because it doesn't happen. Imagine your friends camera only taking really great photos of you at last nights little shin-digg. Again, it doesn't happen. Try and strentch your mind to believe that, while traveling, everytime your significant other needs a 'rest stop' a rest area with free coffee appears. It doesn't, in fact, you probably just passed one. There are certain laws that can not be broken; ink screaming at clothing is one of them.

Can you imagine if God was a women?

"Ok, thanks for sending me to hell...but why would you do that?"

"Well if you don't know I guess you'll have the rest of eternity to figure it out!"

Like as if us guys needed anymore confusion! Seriously. If we could just find a loop hole in all of these laws of absurdity the human race would be so much better off. For now, I will try and put my pen back together.

It's official: we need a recount.

2006-06-04T13:56:00.000-07:00

If there are masks to be worn I suppose they should be worn. If there are covers to be pulled over my head at night then I suppose I should cover myself. If there is such thing as redemption then I suppose I should be redeemed. If there is justice I should be held accountable. If there is grace I could use it. If there is friendship then I suppose I would like a friend. If there is agony I suppose there should be relief. If there is strength in numbers then I suppose I shouldn't be alone. If there is more to life then I suppose I might want to discover it. If there is danger then I will live dangerously. If there is peace then I suppose I will be ok. If there was hope I would be hopeful.

I wonder how often most people just barely scrape by? Barely existing? I wonder how many people find strength believing they are following a guide and never understand that the guide was blind? I imagine most people to live between the shrinking margins of lust and gratification; people who live between the the buffet tables of hope and rejection, love and hate, being fed and going hungry.

Most people want to be known for something spectacular. I've never known anyone who wants to be mediocre. I would like to introduce myself as a someone who wants to be nothing more then somewhere in the middle; a mediocre fence sitting blend-in-with-a-wall kind of person. Greatness is not my intention and neither is worthlessness. I will prefer mediocrity.

-e.d.