I want to hear from the silent majority who read this blog but never comment. What are you thankful for?
22.11.05
U2 Live in Las Vegas: Concert Review
Click on over to a friend of the Funky Presbyterian's Blog and read his review of the latest U2 show in Las Vegas.
Strawberry Milkshake & A Bag of Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips
Tonight's late night pregnancy craving. Both were purchased at the all-night UDF. (Does everyone have UDF?) Anyway, the place gets knocked over about once a month. I could've taken bullets for my wife's craving. Husbandry is not for the weak.
The Rosebuds- Birds Make Good Neighbors
I've been really getting into this album this week. Very good stuff. It's got this retro 80's vibe kinda like the Killers, but with less of ts80 Tube Screamer and more of the jangly jangly chorus pedals.
Click the title link for a free download of a song that is simply beautiful. It's called "Bluebird". It's legal, it's free, it's for you. Like God's mercy. Be sure to save it to your hard drive.
Click the title link for a free download of a song that is simply beautiful. It's called "Bluebird". It's legal, it's free, it's for you. Like God's mercy. Be sure to save it to your hard drive.
21.11.05
Taking the week off
I'm taking this week off. Last week I worked six evenings in a row (that includes after working all day as well). I'll be spending some much needed time with the boys and Charity and reading a Martin Luther Biography I've been meaning to get to for some time. Charity thinks I should read something not "church related". But I actually enjoy reading like this.
Also I will be having dinner Wednesday with an old friend. A good friend. A secret asian man. If history is any indicator, we will talk about music and life and new names for body functions. There may be beer involved as well.
Anyway, click the link for an article related to the Luther bio I'm reading.
Also I will be having dinner Wednesday with an old friend. A good friend. A secret asian man. If history is any indicator, we will talk about music and life and new names for body functions. There may be beer involved as well.
Anyway, click the link for an article related to the Luther bio I'm reading.
If systematic theology were a drug...
John Frame would be my dealer.
And I guess Vern Poythress would be like his partner who watches out for the fuzz while the deals are goin' down. Or something.
And I guess Vern Poythress would be like his partner who watches out for the fuzz while the deals are goin' down. Or something.
If music were a drug...
Emusic would be my dealer.
Check it out. Cheap, legal, and the artists get paid.
Check it out. Cheap, legal, and the artists get paid.
20.11.05
Best Songs for Listening While Under the Influence of Nyquil
Song: Brothers on a Hotel Bed
Album: Plans
Artist: Death Cab for Cutie
Song: I Love You
Album: Shine
Artist: Daniel Lanois
Song: Svefn-g-englar
Album: Agaetis Byrjun
Artist: Sigur Ros
Album: Plans
Artist: Death Cab for Cutie
Song: I Love You
Album: Shine
Artist: Daniel Lanois
Song: Svefn-g-englar
Album: Agaetis Byrjun
Artist: Sigur Ros
Guest Blogger Joshua Rollins on Johnny Cash
I've always loved Johnny Cash.
As a little boy, I remember diggin' through my granddad's tape box, and coming across "Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison Blues" and falling in love. I'd play it over and over again. My love for this man began at a young age.
As I grew older, I remember hearing songs like "Hey Porter" and "Luther Played the Boogie" and realizing they weren't like anything I'd ever heard. The first riff I ever learned on guitar was the beginning to "I Walk the Line".
Needless to say, when Johnny Cash died 2 years ago, I wept.
Not with a tear of sadness, but a tear like that when finishing an epic novel. Going through the tough times and the slow starts, to seeing the high points and even lower depths of the main characters soul, only to see it in the end fade away.
Today, Johnny Cash is beloved by my peers not neccesarly for his groundbreaking work in his prime, but for his last IV American Recordings. While Good, and haunting at time, they're not Johnny in his prime. They're not Johnny how I will remember Johnny.
Tomorrow night, Johnny Cash will be honored once again my music legends like U2, Jerry Lee Lewis and many others. It's a part of my life that's reminding me once again why I loved Johnny, because he transcended genres and went straight to the souls of those who wanted to be touched. A new generation of fans is emerging and they will continue to emerge as long as Johnny is remembered. I just pray someone, 20 years from now, will get the same chill I did 15 years ago, when I first heard the stone cold "Hello, I'm Johnny Cash."
_________________________________________________________
Thanks, Joshua. More of Joshua's writings can be found at rollinsville.net or you can click the title of this post for a link. -FP
As a little boy, I remember diggin' through my granddad's tape box, and coming across "Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison Blues" and falling in love. I'd play it over and over again. My love for this man began at a young age.
As I grew older, I remember hearing songs like "Hey Porter" and "Luther Played the Boogie" and realizing they weren't like anything I'd ever heard. The first riff I ever learned on guitar was the beginning to "I Walk the Line".
Needless to say, when Johnny Cash died 2 years ago, I wept.
Not with a tear of sadness, but a tear like that when finishing an epic novel. Going through the tough times and the slow starts, to seeing the high points and even lower depths of the main characters soul, only to see it in the end fade away.
Today, Johnny Cash is beloved by my peers not neccesarly for his groundbreaking work in his prime, but for his last IV American Recordings. While Good, and haunting at time, they're not Johnny in his prime. They're not Johnny how I will remember Johnny.
Tomorrow night, Johnny Cash will be honored once again my music legends like U2, Jerry Lee Lewis and many others. It's a part of my life that's reminding me once again why I loved Johnny, because he transcended genres and went straight to the souls of those who wanted to be touched. A new generation of fans is emerging and they will continue to emerge as long as Johnny is remembered. I just pray someone, 20 years from now, will get the same chill I did 15 years ago, when I first heard the stone cold "Hello, I'm Johnny Cash."
_________________________________________________________
Thanks, Joshua. More of Joshua's writings can be found at rollinsville.net or you can click the title of this post for a link. -FP
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.
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