Soul Food

I doubt I'll ever get political with this weblog. I simply don't know enough to go there intelligently. But, I like how much artists like Obama. Good art speaks to souls. And I'd be willing to say that change only happens if souls are spoken to. Let's all make art this week. My buddy, Hoffmann, smoked a pork shoulder for us this weekend. That was good art. It spoke to my soul and my stomach. Art is bigger than paint and pixels. We all can create something. Yes we can. Yes we can.

Scariest Thing I've Seen This Week

The Giant's Bride

The old giant gives his trusty paddle to his tiny bride and steps back. She stares at him. He rubs his chin with his enormous hands waiting for a reply. She just stares. He speaks, "I'm done playing ping pong." No response. Wide-eyed silence. The giant tries again, "I'm done for good. It's over." She shifts slightly in her fur coat. She's spent years buying herself nice things. Nicer than the fur even. All in attempt to garner the attention of her humongous husband. He always chose ping pong. A strange obsession, but obsession nonetheless. Years worth of evenings were spent in separate rooms. Until now.
Now, the giant is ready to change.

St. Elizabeth

I spent the past two days with my team (work not kickball) at St. Elizabeth's- a former catholic church bought by a bunch of Vineyardites. Some people (building/health inspectors) don't find the run down, old and haggard quality of Ms. Izzybeth quite as endearing as I do. They're constantly issuing pieces of paper that use words like "condemned" and "shut this place down or we'll throw you in the clink." I love this place and I'll be sad if it ever gets "restored." The stained glass glows in beautiful contrast/harmony with the chipped paint and bare brick of the inside walls. The grand quietness of the vaulted/arched ceilings combined with Norwood sirens and muffler-less cars creates a unique, holy experience. When the skies went dark at 4pm the handful of working lights struggled to illuminate the space without the help of the glowing stained glass. Something about how the inside of this old church needs the outside struck me. An exchange between the two is necessary for physical and metaphorical reasons. I'm still wrestling with what those are. Maybe one is that a church without the influence of the outside community is a dark, quiet vault of unreached/undiscovered potential. And vice versa. Maybe. Like I said, still wrestling.

Day two there was a fire across the street. Norwoodians like watching fires. Sans shirts.

Lil' Meatloaf

My pocket-sized, future rock-diva of a friend mat milthaler has a weblog. While on our roadtrip Joe and I decided we would some day make our fortune writing and producing a one man rock and roll show featuring Mister Milthaler. Imagine Meatloaf + Freddie Mercury + Bette Midler with robotic lights and smoke. Live in Reno! Mat and I actually rapped together way back in the day. Little known fact...this Renaissance Man is a descendant of the secret love affair between Leonardo DaVinci & female tasmanian devil. If his weblog reflects this 100% true fact we're all in for a treat.

Back in the day

I must be feeling nostalgic er something. I plugged in my old hard drive and found these little doozies.They're fantastically and wonderfully bad. My buddy Jeremy and I led a young adult gathering as volunteers (2003ish) and spent our free time making ridiculous videos. Amazing how much and how little has changed...

Morning Sounds

9am sunday morning. sitting outside on my tiny deck. lots of sounds. morning doves impersonating owls. distant dogs shouting at each other. cicadas buzzing and dying. miss jackson's teeth nipping together eating said cicadas. kids chasing each other. my toilet flushing upstairs. a motley crew of birds harmonizing. woodpecker doing his best to play percussion for everyone but struggling to keep tempo with the unorthodox rhythm. squaking, crow-like birds flying overhead. miss jackson stepping ungracefully thru the ivy in hunt of more cicadas. leah sneezing inside (avoiding bug bites-she's very sweet and the bugs know it). neighbor doing a STOMP routine filling a wheelboro with something (wood maybe) and dropping a bucket on the ground. a blackish bird splashing clean in our bird bath. cars honking-seems early for honking. miss jackson pushing open the squeaky door with a stick in mouth to join leah inside. my empty coffee cup snapping its fingers for a refill. my keyboard going quiet....

Spring Break '02

In early spring 2002, most college co-eds were heading south for beaches and tshirt-wearing contests. My college roommates (Ryan: tall skinny. Tyler: tall rugged. Gordy: medium snarky) decided to pile into a conversion van and head for the grandest of all canyons. It makes my heart hurt watching this video I cut together years ago. So many memories. It's kind of overwhelming, actually. We got to El Canyon and it was covered in fog and snow. The fog lifted and we had the place to ourselves. We chucked hundreds of snowballs into that great crevice. Eventually, we grew tired of the cold and left for San Diego (thinking it was a five hour trip). Nine hours later I woke up and we were parked in a ritzy neighborhood covered in sunshine. Good times.
(btw, this blogger video takes a little bit to load)

Binocular Soccer

Thanks to Abraham for sharing this with me. Pure gold, friends.

Happy Birthday Leah

Today is my smokin' hot wife's golden birthday. She's 28 on the 28th. Here's your birthday song, Leah....