December 18, 2009

true story

we saw her before we even came in the door-

throwing her whole buxom body into each stroke against the inside windows of the pierside cafe.

"just sit anywhere that's clean," she said proudly as we came in the door.
"we have two drink specials this morning: margaritas and bloody marys."


"we also have coffee."

December 17, 2009

slapdash #4: grace garland

i have noticed time dripping down my face recently, leaving little line trails by my eyes. it might be the weather drying my skin out or whatever, but i see a changing face.

i rather enjoy the changes. my plump adolescent face never proved the beauty it should have at 20 anyway. the skin clings to the bone a little more, more at home. bone, meet skin, skin bone: "how do you do?"

as far as i'm concerned, it feels good to grow into my face. the body hurries excitedly along, pushing borders, thirsting God, creasing skin. it is only the fool who thinks the best is behind and the purpose mute. it is only the fool who longs for immaturity and a baby fatted face because somehow innocence once rested there. the best innocence i have found is grasped for yet, and stands our victor's garland after all has ceased its thirsting.

the best innocence is a gift that no youth ever earned.

December 6, 2009

viva la.

this entire excerpt is from josh garrels' blog.

i am inspired:

"it's better to have a little and be content, than to have amassed stock piles of ill gotten gain, this is what wise king solomon once said. yes, we're the small ones, and we're moving somewhere beneath the worlds power and influence. relatively undetected. within random rooms and forgettable cities we work quietly, using what resources are within reason, pushing and exploring the parameters of our less than perfect instruments and surroundings...and thoughts. we're hoping to handcraft something, anything, that has integrity and purpose, even if its made from another mans trash. 'those who are full loath the taste of honey, but to the hungry even what is bitter tastes sweet.' we're living within a gridlocked structure, a system that is loathsome and full, that refuses to feed its inhabitants with anything of substance. and now, we little ones are hungry, and we're digging through the trash heaps and roaming the forgotten woods; searching, stalking, and slowly banding together to survive on the bitter roots and bread crusts we happen to find and share. we are joyful and content with what we've been given, as we sit around the fire sharing our stories, pictures, and songs that bare a reflection of the lives we've chosen to live. with love, and respect for one another we'll find the meaning and purpose embedded in life once again. for the answers the psycho-systematic spokesmen have sung to us have been as empty as our stomachs, and we're tired of chewing on that meatless bone. the devil cannot feed us true food because he is the little god of emptiness, the god of what is not. but there's manna from heaven, free and fulfilling, for all who have been led out of slavery."