18.11.05
New Pregnancy Cravings
With our first son, Jack, my wife craved peaches. With our second, Sam, she craved banana peppers. Those of you who know them can verify that the respective cravings very accurately predict their personalities. Now I'm a bit concerned. I just returned form a late night run to the grocery (my clock-thingy is messed up on the time signature). What did she want? Lemons and Limes.
This leads me to predict that in several months my wife will deliver a full grown 7-Up distributor. If we're lucky, maybe he'll be a district manager!
Too bad she didn't crave oranges and lemons. Then we'd give birth to an under-rated, new wave British song writer.
(Come on! Whose with me? Get it? Oranges and Lemons! Come on, people!)
>crickets-crickets<
This leads me to predict that in several months my wife will deliver a full grown 7-Up distributor. If we're lucky, maybe he'll be a district manager!
Too bad she didn't crave oranges and lemons. Then we'd give birth to an under-rated, new wave British song writer.
(Come on! Whose with me? Get it? Oranges and Lemons! Come on, people!)
>crickets-crickets<
Why I wear my Father's coat.
Earlier this week, I spent the day at home with the boys. I try to do that every once and a while. Just me and the boys. And sometimes, when the cartoons are off and the weekly video game allotment has been reached, we actually spend time together. (There are usually couch forts involved. And nerf).
This week Jack put on my corduroy jacket and my hat. (I've got a hat like men use to wear, back when men wore hats. Sometimes I wish men still wore hats). Anyway, Jack puts on my coat and my hat and then he wants my glasses. I reluctlantly surrender them. He stomps around the room, feet flopping in size nines, sleeves swaying by knees, hat cocked, head tilted to keep the over-sized glasses in place on a nose barely big enough to balance them. And then he speaks.
With his chin now pressed against his chest and the glasses now slinding down his little bump of a nose, he lowers his voice to a six year old's best approximation of a baritone and belows forth authoritatively. This is how daddy sounds to him. His phrases are punctuated with fits of giggles and slobber.
It's fun to pretend. (Remember when we use to pretend? Mr. Rogers use to call it "make believe". I like that better, I think). But when Jack plays dress up in my coat and hat, he'd doing more than just playing make believe. Someday Jack is going to grow up. Eventually he'll fit that coat. Someday those shoes won't flop. He'll fill them out. So it is make believe, but it's make believe with a purpose. He's learning to become who he's destined to be.
I use to think that when I prayed I had to use my own words. I thought that to pray words someone else had written was somehow insincere or less than authentic. It felt like I was pretending to express something I didn't really feel. It felt like make believe.
I still think it is to some extent, make believe when I pray the words written by someone else in some other place (usually a long time ago). But now I'm okay with it. Especially when I pray the words of scripture, like the Psalms or the Lord's Prayer. The way I see it, I'm just dressingup in my father's coat and hat. I'm walking around in his floppy shoes, chin like voice, lowered.
For now, the sleeves mostly hang down around my knees, and the hat slides to one side, to big for my head to fill. I have to keep pushing the glasses back up the bridge of my nose. But these clothes- the words, the prayers, the poetry- these clothes are his clothes. These words are His words. They will never fully fit me, not in this life anyway. But the longer I wear them and the more I make believe, the more I grow into them. Even now, they fit a little better than they use to. Wearing them actually makes me look a little more like my Father.
I pray the words of God for the same reason I wore my Father's coat as a child. I'm learning to become who I'm destined to be: a child of God, with a striking family resemblance.
This week Jack put on my corduroy jacket and my hat. (I've got a hat like men use to wear, back when men wore hats. Sometimes I wish men still wore hats). Anyway, Jack puts on my coat and my hat and then he wants my glasses. I reluctlantly surrender them. He stomps around the room, feet flopping in size nines, sleeves swaying by knees, hat cocked, head tilted to keep the over-sized glasses in place on a nose barely big enough to balance them. And then he speaks.
With his chin now pressed against his chest and the glasses now slinding down his little bump of a nose, he lowers his voice to a six year old's best approximation of a baritone and belows forth authoritatively. This is how daddy sounds to him. His phrases are punctuated with fits of giggles and slobber.
It's fun to pretend. (Remember when we use to pretend? Mr. Rogers use to call it "make believe". I like that better, I think). But when Jack plays dress up in my coat and hat, he'd doing more than just playing make believe. Someday Jack is going to grow up. Eventually he'll fit that coat. Someday those shoes won't flop. He'll fill them out. So it is make believe, but it's make believe with a purpose. He's learning to become who he's destined to be.
I use to think that when I prayed I had to use my own words. I thought that to pray words someone else had written was somehow insincere or less than authentic. It felt like I was pretending to express something I didn't really feel. It felt like make believe.
I still think it is to some extent, make believe when I pray the words written by someone else in some other place (usually a long time ago). But now I'm okay with it. Especially when I pray the words of scripture, like the Psalms or the Lord's Prayer. The way I see it, I'm just dressingup in my father's coat and hat. I'm walking around in his floppy shoes, chin like voice, lowered.
For now, the sleeves mostly hang down around my knees, and the hat slides to one side, to big for my head to fill. I have to keep pushing the glasses back up the bridge of my nose. But these clothes- the words, the prayers, the poetry- these clothes are his clothes. These words are His words. They will never fully fit me, not in this life anyway. But the longer I wear them and the more I make believe, the more I grow into them. Even now, they fit a little better than they use to. Wearing them actually makes me look a little more like my Father.
I pray the words of God for the same reason I wore my Father's coat as a child. I'm learning to become who I'm destined to be: a child of God, with a striking family resemblance.
Linford Detweiler performs at the 2006 Grace Central Arts Forum
Best known for his work in the Ohio based folk act Over the Rhine, Linford performed a rare solo show last weekend at the Grace Central Arts Forum in Columbus, Ohio. The evening included poetry, prose and piano pieces, all of which were originally composed.
It really was a fantastic evening for all in attendance, as Linford recounted childhood experiences, many of which cast a light upon the unique and often strained relationship between faith and the creative impulse.
It was perfect. You really oughta been there.
It really was a fantastic evening for all in attendance, as Linford recounted childhood experiences, many of which cast a light upon the unique and often strained relationship between faith and the creative impulse.
It was perfect. You really oughta been there.
Zack Prout Opens the Evening
Zack Prout opened the night's performances with a thirty minute set of familiar covers and original compositions.
If you weren't there, I'd try to tell you how good Zack sings, but you wouldn't believe me anyway. Seriously. He's that good.
If you weren't there, I'd try to tell you how good Zack sings, but you wouldn't believe me anyway. Seriously. He's that good.
Urbanic Spins Records in the Gallery
After Linford's performance, the real party got started after hours in the gallery space. Grace Central's own Urbanic got his groove on.
Drinking
Organic Milk. It really does taste much better than regular old hormone injected milk. Never thought I'd be able to tell the difference, but let me tell ya...
I can. It's great. Plus it's got a little cartoon cow on the carton.
I can. It's great. Plus it's got a little cartoon cow on the carton.
The Four Resurrections of Johnny Cash: In Four Parts
This weekend marks the release of the highly anticipated bigraphical Johnny Cash film "Walk the Line", starring Jauquin Phoenix as the man in black.
In commemoration of the film's release, Funky Presbyterian will be posting a four part essay on "the four resurrections of Johnny Cash".
In addition, if you would like to submit a short essay concerning Johnny Cash and his influence, please email it to me at gracecentral@hotmail.com and I'll post it on the Funky P. Maybe you can be my first ever "guest poster".
In commemoration of the film's release, Funky Presbyterian will be posting a four part essay on "the four resurrections of Johnny Cash".
In addition, if you would like to submit a short essay concerning Johnny Cash and his influence, please email it to me at gracecentral@hotmail.com and I'll post it on the Funky P. Maybe you can be my first ever "guest poster".
Rockin' the Reverend
Band: The Damnwells
Album: The Bastards of the Beat
Genre: Rock and Roll (no pre-fix required)
Track: New Born History
I forgot how much I enjoy this album. Now let me be sure to say right up front: This record will not change your life, like for instance the Joshua Tree or OK Computer or HWY 61 Revisited, or Revolver, or even Graceland for that matter. But it is one heckuva good listen. Fat hooks, rich harmonies, hummable melodies and all without pretense or agenda. These guys don't break new ground, but then again they aren't trying to.
Just a solid B+ listen on a cold day in November.
Album: The Bastards of the Beat
Genre: Rock and Roll (no pre-fix required)
Track: New Born History
I forgot how much I enjoy this album. Now let me be sure to say right up front: This record will not change your life, like for instance the Joshua Tree or OK Computer or HWY 61 Revisited, or Revolver, or even Graceland for that matter. But it is one heckuva good listen. Fat hooks, rich harmonies, hummable melodies and all without pretense or agenda. These guys don't break new ground, but then again they aren't trying to.
Just a solid B+ listen on a cold day in November.
John Lennon still speaks.
And apparantly he's still ticked at Paul. Hey, dude. Get over it, already.
Stand Back- Stand Back!
I found this awesome website where a woman sells her art work- which just happens to be mostly pictures of Stevie Nicks painted on tambourines. How great is that? Talk about a niche market.
p.s. Guess what all of you are getting from me for Christmas this year?
p.s. Guess what all of you are getting from me for Christmas this year?
Got vinyl?
Ok, my funky readers... Who of you out there has vinyl? Do you listen to it? Where & when? Is the listenting experience that much superior to digital? The aspect of vinyl I most admire is the whole event of listening to it. There's the unfolding of the BIG cardboard sleeve, the gently removing the disc, the gingergly gripping of the disc's edge between flattened hands, fingers straightened and placing on that little post. The dropping of the needle and the thup thup thup thup of the speakers when the record reaches the end of side A. Oh yeah... I almost forgot. Remember when there WAS a side A? Now I scroll and click my way through my entire collection in seconds. (Ok, maybe not my ENTIRE collection- but you get the point).
Who's got it? Is it worth it? Do you like it?
So here's my question: If I decide to begin collecting vinyl and actually purchase a record player, will you guys come over and lay on my living room floor so we can look at the album art together?
Who's got it? Is it worth it? Do you like it?
So here's my question: If I decide to begin collecting vinyl and actually purchase a record player, will you guys come over and lay on my living room floor so we can look at the album art together?
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