19.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Sunday, September 09, 2007

  • :: i gotta c-c-c-c-crucify myself if i am gonna believe You ::

    thank You, G-d, for music. 

    thank You for blessing me with a voice that is adequate to express the emotions that paint my insides with thick and violent color that is delicate once it dries.

    thank You for the inspiration of six strings and a distorted electrical signal.

    thank You for my kids.  thank You for their talent, & more importantly their hearts.  they are the stained glass window that i see Your light through.

    thank You for a tiredness that surpasses understanding & supports a belief in a future that is tenuous at best & lottery-level gambling the rest of the time.

    thank You, G-d for dreams.

    & thank you, dear reader, for tolerating spontaneous metaphors & sporadic updates.  perhaps my head will allow me to write tomorrow; for now, my heart will gladly rule.  i am glad of it.

    i could become / the servant of all / no lower place to fall ... [mewithoutYou]

Thursday, August 16, 2007

  • :: and is that what you call a getaway ::

    for those that were wondering: yes, xanga does look fat on a twenty-two inch widescreen LCD. 

    fat and sexy.


Friday, July 13, 2007

  • :: i'm biased and by this i'll judge you on weakness wrapped up in my own innocence ::

    we're in the second story bedroom of a south philly apartment.  i'm pretty sure its the only room in the house that actually has air-conditioning.  he's sitting across from me with a banged up pink strat, playing through a shitty amp that crackles and buzzes whenever he shifts his weight.  he says he wants to teach me about music.  i say okay.

    i take scissors to my hair because i'm bored.  i stand in front of a mirror and cut haphazardly, my intent skewed by my lack of skill.  i grab handfuls of hair and twist so they are easier to cut, then toss the clumps in the trashcan.  it all works out pretty well in the end, and i decide for the second time that i'm never letting someone else cut my hair again.  except maybe my wife.  i think i would like it if she cut my hair.

    at a redlight i glance in the rearview mirror and realize that i tend to arrange my hair so you can see the scar over my right eye.  i smile, feeling like i just figured something out about a stranger.  i like my scars.  do you?

    my heart breaks as a dear friend tells me about their heartbreak.  and i fight tears to think of all of the loves in my life i will be called to abandon.  and i wonder if our G-d's heart breaks when He thinks of the thirty-three short years He had to show us His love.  and whether He sometimes wishes He had more time. 

    the house is empty.  and yet i am quiet.  i move carefully, mindful of the creaky places in the piss-yellow linoleum of my kitchen.  i wonder at why i am quiet even though no one will hear me.  and i wonder at why i am quiet when someone will hear me.  why isn't the amp turned up?  why aren't all the lights on?  we weren't given a spirit of fear.  so why aren't we louder?  where is our beautiful noise?

    i punch my steering wheel when i can't sing any louder.  i move in whatever way i can, seatbelt off and foot somewhat firmly in place on the gas, throwing my shoulders and letting my voice break.  i miss the openness of my jeep, i miss the specific way the steering wheel felt when i punched it and the way i could always fight the wind with my scream and win.  i drive slower, sometimes, so i can listen to another song before i get to wherever i'm going.  i'm chasing the days where i will get to wherever i'm going, and there will be songs waiting for me to play.  maybe you will listen to them.

    i wish my heart was bigger.  i wish i was less selfish in my love.  i wish i could serve my kids better and be less concerned with what they think of me.  i wish i could sleep less and live more.  and i wish more of my wishes began as prayers and stayed that way.  do you wish a lot?  do you pray?

    please pray.

    oh G-d, my G-d, my G-d ... where exactly have You been?


Monday, July 02, 2007

  • :: keep me, honesty ::

    the moon was a thin orange sickle when i first tried to write something down.  now it is silver and full, making the night sky blue and the sailing clouds black.  both filled me with longing, and something like awe but with more gratitude, and now as then i don't know what i want to tell you.  or you.

    i spent the past four nights of my life sleeping in the back of a van next to a brother i love dearly.  the intervening days i spent dancing, the deep droning rhythm of the bass taking over for my heart and dictating most of my body's primary functions.  i sang 'til i could only scream, and then screamed until my voice gave out.  i  listened with my eyes closed and feet only occasionally on the ground; i listened with my eyes opened and watched their fingers carefully, closely.  i walked away convinced of my place on their stage every time.  conviction here is made of one part fear, one part confidence, and two parts passion.  i'm fairly certain that this sort of thing is best served on the rocks, but you'd have to ask amanda. 

    my heart broke when i was handed the picture of a little girl in ghana.  her name is makafui, and i'm now sponsoring her for thirty-two dollars a month through compassion international.  her smile is perfect.  my heart broke again when a crowd of over a hundred thousand christians chose to stand and applaud the sponsorship of barely two thousand children.  [the math, for those interested, is two percent.]

    my prayer at night is to know the difference between direction and directions.  my prayer each morning is that my love would mix with His like water with wine.  oh, that He would turn that water into wine.

    i learned how to sew.  i've started cutting up shirts and putting them back together again.  some of them i'll keep, some of them i'll give away.  my thoughts skip and suddenly i want to start a clothing company that destroys and remakes old clothes and then gives them to the salvation army.  my thoughts skip again and i want to live out of a backpack with two pairs of jeans and a t-shirt for every day of the week.

    incidentally, you can fit a solid week's worth of clothes into a gig bag for an electric guitar.  i've done it.

    i'll be taking guitar lessons from mike weiss from now until mid october.  this is because G-d is good.  i am leading worship with some of the most amazing and talented high schoolers i know.  i am blessed beyond belief.  this is also because G-d is good.

    i truly wish this were more coherent.  there is so much more to tell.

    ask me questions, please.  ask me so many questions.  ask me questions so i can say i don't know and glory in those words as evidence of my G-d.

    please.

    [peace of Christ]