Saturday, July 30, 2005
Sunday, July 24, 2005
There was a summer in my early 20s when I would go to the library and rent VHS copies of Shakespeare plays. Additionally, if I didn't have the text versions in my own nascent collection, I would check out the written works themselves. At home, I would watch the plays - most of which were BBC-esque Masterpiece Theater efforts - and follow along reading. Because I was intent on deeply processing each work, I would take about three days for each.

What I remember most about that summer is that A Midsummer's Night's Dream was my least favorite Shakespeare play, and coincidentally that summer I became friends with an actress who played Puck in a local production of the play. Also, Hamlet was the play I absorbed most completely, perhaps because at the time I was intent on mastering Joyce and read Ulysses, The Odyssey and Hamlet simultaneously, trying to connect the dots, my out-of-print literary reader by my side.

Those, indeed, were the days, but these are the days, too. Then I was a boy; now I am something a bit more. Then I was penniless and optimistic; now I am sorted out but resigned to the way of the world. Speaking of which, that summer I saw the Congreve play Way of the World, at the same amphitheater where John Goodman played in Henry IV. Then John Goodman drank at a bar near the park and I was introduced to him while he ate Budweiser and tequila. He was gigantic, and I was not.

My friend then and now swears he bought John Goodman a drink and the man didn't thank him for it. I believe him and I don't. He was quite hasty back then, my friend, so it's possible there was some sort of confirmation-bias thing happening. I don't know, but John Goodman was nice to me.

Now I don't go to Congreve plays or rent Shakespeare at the public library. Matter of fact, I bet my library card needs to be renewed. But that's okay. I won. I fell in love and remain in love all these years later. Life changes, and I'm beginning to accept it. That makes it easier.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
As the bottom step of the letter continues to get higher, the kids in space scream fallaciously at one another. It's like bad advertising, this notion of 'realness.' Four out of five dentists may say they like the Six horse in the Third at Del Mar, but any first-year law student'll tell you it's a meritless claim. It's like Real Men Love Jesus.


The license-plate frame, that blog of the American highway, repeats the Got Milk campaign but changes the hook to Christ. Got Christ?


And like on the blogs and in e-mails, ALL CAPS on moving vehicles is pissy and annoying. Soldier on, Soldier of God. Soldier of God's Army. Soldier of God. Soldier of the Army. Chin up and head down, and I'll meet you in Dubai, where they serve the most expensive liquor in one of the most posh hotels on the planet. Look for me in the lobby, but don't expect the pink carnation on my lapel -- or even a branch of olive. You'll see my hand and my eyes. My heart dictates their activity, and we'll all be present and accountable.

Giddy up, then. I'll be waiting. While the kids scream, and the bloggers moan, we'll toast our good fortune.

Yours truly,

Freedom of Choice
This will be the redux, then. God's Lonely Man has moved into the shadows, graciously making the move for Upsetting. We'll see where it goes, but I am confident it will not careen into the paranoid Net watching of the former site. This time we will breathe easily, like an alcoholic who knows the fridge is stocked. We will take our time, I suppose, and see what lies out in the vast white world.

Physically, I will move from the shimmering Southwest to the steamy South. Perhaps I will consider the journey and reflect. I will do my very best to not be a tool.

Feel free to join in and build the community. I am going to try to get it right.

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