Everything That Rises Must Converge

I had a nightmare last night.  In my dream, I was kidnapped, blindfolded, and tied down (ooh, kinky).  The kidnapper took the blindfold off, and I found myself face to face with a person in a terrible clown mask holding a pitchfork, in some boiler room, I think.  I started to see if I could talk my way out of it.

"What do you what from me?  Why did you kidnap me?"
"I wanted to talk, and thought this would be the best way to get you to listen."
"OK calm down, ahh, wh.. what do you have to tell me?"
"I want to talk to you about your blog."
"Oh man, I knew this was going to happen!  Look, I'm sorry about the last entry.  I agree, its not my best work.  I tried changing it, but still, I didn't feel good about it.  What was I supposed to do?  I haven't been in that position before; everything else was pure gold.  I just kinda froze after writing that turd.  I mean, I don't disagree with my position, I'm just better than that.  I'M TELLING YOU, I'M ABOVE IT.  OH PLEASE GIVE ME ONE MORE CHANCE AND I'LL..."
"SHUT UP!!!"
"ok"
.........
"Your blog is good, but you need to focus.  Get back to your theme."
"What theme?"
"I'm getting really tired..."
"AHHH MY ASS!!!"
"I'm not touching your ass!"
"oh i guess it was my imagination"
"You were writing this all for a reason, and I think its time you did some soul searching if these shenanigans are to continue.  You have, besides myself, only two readers left.  It's getting dismal."
"Who...who are you?"

The clown mask came off, and I found myself staring into the face of none other than Flannery O'Connor.  I was really confused now.  "O'Connor???  Why are YOU in my dream?"  She said, "Because I am your guardian angel."  That's when I woke up screaming.  After pulling myself together, I think I remembered what she was getting at.  I had to laugh a little though.  To think a Catholic would actually be my guardian angel.  Preposterous!

It's been three months since I started this online venture.  Already I have managed to offend women, Hades, the City of Chicago, little leagues, the City of Birmingham, vegetarians, baristas, botanists, the average American patriot, and now Catholics.  Not bad, not bad.  My topics have ranged from the social to the personal, from gastronomical euphoria to the politics of little league.  It has been a good three months for me; I've been able to air my mental laundry, practice my humor, and continue to use my poor understanding of punctuation¿  But you, my reader, may be feeling a little dizzy.  Let's be honest, this is pure chaos.  A wiser Ice Cube once said, "You better check yo self before you wreck yo self.  Cos I'm bad for your health, I come real stealth.  Droppin bombs on ya moms, fuck car alarms..." you get the point.

This blog was more or less intended to be an attempt to express and understand the societal wave of change that is knocking on the door of the human world.  I also might have made some allusions to the nature of this blog, itself being a flotsam constructed from an ugly shipwreck.  Well, maybe its time the flotsam went somewhere out of all this debris, maybe toward that island off in the distance.  It would be much easier to chronicle and understand the Deluge if we could get into some dry clothes, don't you think?  I do.  Join me.

P.S. - Holiday postings by historical (and fictional) figures aren't going anywhere.



Peace be with you.

Dammit, Did I Miss Flag Day Again?

Dear American Flag,

Another year has passed, and I have missed your birthday....... again.  They say you were 233 years old on June 14th, and I didn't even have the common decency to bake you that red velvet cake I know you love.  I am such an ass.

June 14th was a Monday.  I woke up that afternoon feeling appreciative of something, but I could not put my finger on what, exactly, I was appreciative of.  So, I began the search with my wife who I thanked for her steadfast love and kindness.  It didn't feel right.  It was definitely not that I appreciated.  I thought about calling my parents, then quickly realized that would be an error in judgment.  After all, they needed no thanks for all the ass wiping, conflict resolution, parent-teacher conferences, wrecked vehicles, and angst that I put them through, right?  Right!  I even tried thanking the woman who made my burrito that day for such a delicious treat.  But deep down inside, I felt nothing but contempt (she really skimped on my corn salsa).  As I was driving home and accepting defeat, I caught a glimpse of a giant red, white, and blue in the air.  Something grand stirred in my soul, and I thought with surety, that the flag above was by far the silliest thing I've ever seen.  It was twice as long as usual, looked more like a giant airborne hallway rug.  What a dumb flag!  Ohhh.... indigestion.

And so the day would pass as all the years before it, with me forgetting to celebrate flag day.  I know what you're thinking.  I am pretty ungrateful.  So many sacrifices have been made for me that go unthanked.  Just to think where I would be if all those people who couldn't pay the price for college, or, lets be honest, American citizenship, hadn't taken all those bullets overseas, the ones that were aimed at me.  If it weren't for the pile of British, Native American, African, Libyan, Mexican, Confederate, Spanish, German, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Vietnamese, Cambodian, Iranian, Guatemalan, Grenadian, Iraqi, Somalian, and Afghanistani flesh at my feet (damn, you're only 233 years old?), well, no way I could stand this high.

I'd be mad about all of the dead you have claimed over, but what Ke$ha did on SNL

( http://www.hulu.com/watch/143257/saturday-night-live-keha-tik-tok ) has made me laugh quite heartily.  Now I realize why, exactly, I am so appreciative.  You entertain the hell out of me!  The most embarrassing and obstinate of humanity wave you about as their security blanket.  People actually get passionate about whether it is alright to burn you (it is).  Best of all, that one time you and Glenn Beck were caught on tape in the back of that van.... well, you were there.  How could I help but laugh at such a sad, sad spectacle.

So thanks for being what you are and all that.  I'm sure I'll remember next year.  Seems to me some other patriotic holiday is coming soon.  Hmm.  I'm stumped.  The only thing I can come up with is that day of mourning event on July 4th that marks the turning of the tide in the WNA (War of Northern Aggression).  Yeah, I'm going to have to think about this one....

P.S. - last weeks blog was the beginning of adding relevant music to my posts, a practice I plan to continue.  Hope you're enjoying it.

Quote of the week:

If we were wise, we would learn the elegant simplicity of finding the abundance in violent changes and learn the lessons of grateful adaptation. By naming a volcano a disaster, we rob it of its ability to teach. By seeing those in its reach as victims, we blind ourselves to the grace of evolution which is an inextricable part of humanity’s development. - David Martin, whose awesome blog can be found here: http://www.invertedalchemy.blogspot.com/

A Love Affair

I feel like I often ask too much of my reader, especially when I ask them to try and experience my madness.  It won't stop though, nope.  Below, you can find a link to some music that I feel reflects my message very well.  If you would please, either before after or during reading this post, listen to the song below.  Hopefully, you will be able to further appreciate what I am trying to express here.  I already do, thanks friend.

Lets begin, shall we?

Love affairs, as I am learning, have no regard for your life plans.  They scoff at them, making you feel ashamed for such pithy delusions.  They make you feel small and impotent (at least mine do) and eventually force you to face your life's circumstances.  Funny... this poor treatment is why anyone allows an affair to happen in the first place.  One wants a change, even with all of the personal destruction it includes.  And that is exactly why one loves an affair.  There is such beauty in the fall and submission of a human being to something so completely impossible to control.

I have a good friend in Birmingham who wanted to discuss my return to Alabama.  This place means different things to him than it does to me, so naturally he was curious as to why I like it down here so much.  I gave him some "this and that" about it being far away from anything resembling Chicago, and how I felt it was a good constructive space to figure out my next steps (as I'm sure I've already expressed in previous postings).  It started to nag on me that I had said all of that.  Though true, it wasn't THE truth.  As the conversation moved on, the desire to change my response grew stronger, until I had to interrupt.  Out of nowhere, I blurted out that the real reason I liked Alabama so much is, (are you ready?) the foliage.  I'll let that statement hang in the air for a minute.  The foliage...

What does that mean?  I can assure you it is not based in a scientific appreciation for the foliage; I don't give two shits about photosynthesis!  So, what is it?  To best explain, maybe some personal history will help.

I would like to recall my 20-25 phase in life.  I was tired of failing and disappointing people.  My solution was to give a damn about something that would in turn light a fire under my ass, to put it eloquently, and that is exactly what I did.  I got passionate about helping others, got two degrees in the subject, and when I was done, I had nothing waiting for me on the other side.  Looking back, it was foolish to think that I would have, no matter what may have been different.  So, in that defeat I came here, still having not learned my lesson.  This lesson I speak of was that all along I had only been interested in helping myself; mostly, to help me live with myself.  It's not very fun, my wife can attest to the mess.

Now how did I learn this lesson?

I came down here looking for a lot of answers, and the first and most important one came to me only days after I arrived.  Something about the woods here is intoxicating.  You can find a path in any neighborhood, it seems, and 100 feet in you feel totally separated from civilization.  At night, when the dark turns everything into mysterious shadows, insects take to the trees and play really good music.  The best of all of these is that when the wind picks up and moves the surrounding greenery, it forces one to remember that it is all very much alive.  This constant reminder, my friends, is the biggest blessing I have received in a long while.  There is something out here way bigger than myself.  And in the end, I have to agree that this whole life, in all its sorrows and wonder, is not about me.

As I continue to struggle to grasp this revelation, I am constantly enveloped by the foliage that speaks to me.  In Alabama, if you have a heart that listens, then the trees themselves will be your prophets.  All I want to do in return is to love them back, and to further explore the life surrounding us all.  How can I possibly do anything else?  It demands my worship, and I give it freely.  This place has become even dearer to my heart.

I was not looking for this love affair to occur, to draw me away from my self focus and bring me to new frontiers of understanding.  It has shown me where I have erred, and has been most gracious in doing so.  I think I will continue to listen.  Though I likely will someday, I hope that I never leave this place.  There is not a lot of opportunity in Alabama for a person of my interests, but unlike everywhere else I have lived, it surrounds me with loving arms.  It whispers in my ear, "you should learn to play the banjo".  Love affairs are funny indeed.

When Christ was asked to silence his followers, he said that if they kept quiet, that the very stones would cry out.  In the absence of everyone else, in the absence of myself, I hear the trees.