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| The Commodores |
Saturday, September 26, 2015
Shake it down, shake it down now!
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Hey, Everybody - Biscuits!
You may or may not have noticed that my logorrhea has been somewhat constipated lately... Whether that is for good or ill is a matter of opinion, but in MY opinion, it's, well... ill. I mean, the cause is good, but the effect is ill.
And the cause? I've started a "real job!"* That's right, a 9 to 5. Okay, it's a 9-2:30, four days a week, but still... so I've been learning the processes, and also trying to keep up with my one other freelance client, AND dealing with the start of another school year - Bill's in middle school! Ack!**
Movies I saw: Welcome to Me with Kristen Wiig. If you have Netflix, you can stream this - it's kind of a painful but entertaining story about a mentally ill woman who wins the lottery and pays a production company to produce and air a show called Welcome to Me in which she comes in on a swan boat then talks about herself and her interests, airs old grievances, stages dramatic reenactments of occasions when people wronged her, and does a whole lot of other cringe-inducing stuff. Of course I watched it like I was watching a train wreck - it's easy to watch stuff like that because it makes us feel so sane! But at the same time I realized that I too want people to pay attention to me. To know who I am. To be on my side. Don't most people? Isn't this blog kinda like a "welcome to me" show? Well, it is, but it isn't. I mean, my intention in talking about myself is to show the reader how an ordinary person wrestles with God and His Word and His will in everyday life. So, ideally, it's a "welcome to God" show.
TV series I saw: On The Last Man on Earth show, Will Forte plays one of a tiny settlement of folks in Tuscon after a horrible plague wipes out everyone else... It's like watching mankind struggle with the beginning of things, as if in a tiny garden of Eden. And Will Forte is there showing you all the fallen traits of mankind... Always pushing for his own interests – the prettiest woman, the best stuff... Yea, he's pretty despicable. But he is also me. He's just acting on all stuff I'm thinking all the time. Who will free us from this body of sin?*** And speaking of which...
Songs I a lo divino-ed: Despite the barren wasteland that is commercial radio these days, I still flip around on it while I'm driving because I love the random surprise of hearing a great song when I least expect it. So one day on my way to work I was feeling kind of like I'd never get the hang of all my new duties... and I heard the classic rock masterpiece by Msrs. Bachman and Turner, You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet. And call me crazy, but I kinda felt like God was saying that to me... That the best is yet to come, you know. So just now I looked up the lyrics and had to laugh - I wonder if anyone has ever a lo divino-ed a song with the word devil in it. Now that I read it, it seems to be about a guy who went off with someone who wasn't good for him because he was taking what he could get, love-wise. And we do this, don't we? But really, we ain't seen nothin' yet, have we? We live on earth and we take what we can get – or enjoy what we have, but ... there's so much more... in terms of what God's working on for us both down the road in the great hereafter, can I get an amen?
Shows I saw: I just saw Mavis Staples, like an hour ago, and what a beautiful woman. She was part of the civil rights movement, we told Bill... And I was reminded again about how my problems are primarily what they call First World problems. Have I been refused service or accused of a crime just because of the color of my skin? Am I a refugee fleeing a despotic regime? Am I in danger of being sold as a sex slave? Absolutely not. Although I have been indirectly dissed because I am a woman, and a small, kind of girlish woman at that. Which is absolutely NOT the same thing. But even though what I consider my problems may be like a feather bed to some, every one of us longs for that place Mavis sings about in I'll Take You There - where ain't nobody cryin'... Which is another reference to that thing that's coming that's we ain't seen yet.
*I'm working at Duke University as the Creative Director of their student newspaper - so far, I love working with the students, and the grown ups that work there are also, really kind and helpful. Plus, (for now) it's in a cool old house - Famous Duke coach Wallace Wade used to live in it!
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| Mmmm... drop biscuits... |
Anyway, the effect has been, as I was saying, that I have no time to write... And the effect of THAT is that I am bursting with crap to say. And the effect of THAT is that I'm not going to go into any one thought in a huge amount of detail. Instead, I'm just going to drop'em out a blob at a time like drop-biscuit dough... And you can just leave'em on the pan, or stick it in the oven, bake'em and eat'em with butter. So... Here goes...
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| Kristen Wiig in Welcome to Me |
Movies I saw: The film Danny Collins presents Al Pacino as an aging rock star receives a 30-year-old, previously undelivered letter written to him by John Lennon. In it, Lennon tells the struggling young musician that he is there to help him deal with impending fame, gives him his phone number, and ends with "What do you think about that, Danny Collins?" Danny then sets his course to reform his dissipated, artistically bereft lifestyle. And I thought - God has written just such a letter, given us His phone number, calls us by name and begs constantly for our response... And this should be life-changing. Is it? Only if we let it be. And honestly, I don't always. Also, in the movie, Danny reaches out to a son he had never met and starts working on his own music as opposed to the pop drivel he has become famous for. These are both good things, but in the end he must choose one over the other, and while people like me place a high value on artistic integrity, I think it's maybe family and people who get God's vote. That's my guess anyway.
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| Will Forte as The Last Man on Earth |
Sermons I heard: The best thing I heard in a sermon all summer was this concept: in the Old Testament, there were a lot of laws about what was clean and unclean. New clay pots? Clean. Carcasses of unclean animals? Unclean. And if the carcass touches the pot? Both unclean. But with the coming of Jesus, the cleanness of Christ cleanses everything it touches! So... Yay!
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| BTO, baby - yeah! |
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| Mavis Staples'll take you there. |
Tailfeathers I shook: At the Mavis Staples show, my son Bill kept trying to clamp my arms down to keep me from dancing, but I. Just. Can't. Not. Dance. As evidenced by this video my husband posted of me dancing on stage at a recent Southern Culture on the Skids show. Yes, I'm 53 years old, and I HAVE to shake my ass. I have to. It's nothing personal against the teenager I'm embarrassing - it just has to happen.
And that's all the drop biscuits I have for now - an even half-dozen. Bake'em. Eat'em. Wash'em down with a big glass of buttermilk.
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| I work at Wallace Wade's house now! |
**Last night I dreamed that I lost Bill. I couldn't find him anywhere! It was a real nightmare... I thought at first that it was because I was worrying that With all this new stuff going on, I'm worried I'm being somehow negligent. But I thought later that I'm worried about losing him to adolescence. Wahhhh......!
***Romans 7:24
***Romans 7:24
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
RIP Elisabeth Elliot, Rock and Roll Christian
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| Dave Grohl rhymes with rock and roll! |
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| Johnny (still) Rotten |
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| Give it the Full Monty, luv! |
And so, I’m thinking about this for a couple of days and the news comes over the wire that Elisabeth Elliot has gone to meet her Maker. In case you don’t know who this was, then … well, she was a Christian writer, speaker, missionary, etc. who had been doing her thing for many years. I used to hear her on the radio in my saturation** days, and honestly, she always sounded like she had a stick up her you-know-what. She seemed like one of those “just do it” kind of Christians who never struggled with temptation or anything.
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| It's not a great movie, but you'll get the gist of it. |
That said, she tirelessly taught the gospel for years and years, and each of her “Gateway to Joy” broadcast included these words: “You are loved with an everlasting love – that’s what the Bible says – and underneath are the everlasting arms.” Now I don’t care who you are, that’s comforting.
Anyway, she may not have sounded or looked all that “rock and roll,” but she was the real deal... It’s all recorded in a film called “End of the Spear.” What happened was this: She was married to a missionary named Jim Elliot who, in the 1950s, made contact with an unreached tribal group in eastern Ecuador – called the Huaorani (or sometimes the Waorani or the Waodani.) Contact was initially friendly, but for some reason he and the missionaries he was with ended up getting speared to death… and Elisabeth Elliot never saw her husband alive in his body again.
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| Elisabeth Elliot |
*Believe it or not, this is kind of a short post for me...!
**when, as a new Christian, I immersed myself in all manner of Christian media.
Friday, June 26, 2015
It's the least we can do.
I hardly ever address politics or current events – the last time was maybe in 2011? But I want to talk* about the whole Charleston/Confederate flag thing, and since no one's here to stop me, here goes...
I definitely think taking the Confederate flag down at the South Carolina state house and any other public property it adorns is a good and necessary action. I mean, it’s the least we can do. But… really, it is exactly that… the very LEAST thing we can do. I mean… it’s like putting a Ninja Turtles bandaid on a long, deep, infected abdominal wound with oozing innards spilling out of it. Or maybe it's like putting merthiolate on a debilitating psychosis.
That is to say, the evil of racism is very old and soul deep. It’s one of the world systems that the “prince of this world” wields like a deadly weapon… waves like a flag, if you will. That said, we can certainly perform this simple, tiny symbolic gesture… just to show that we’re at least willing to say that racism is a still a brobdingnagian**, festering problem, and we’re willing to begin addressing it.
Because it has to just be a beginning. Because how much is taking down a flag actually going to do...? Although… maybe a good portion of the population will no longer feel mocked every time they pass by the government building of their own state.
Of course, I say it’s the beginning, so there ought to be more steps, right? I just don’t know what they are. Prayers. Lots of prayers. Jesus was the most un-racist cat who ever lived, so we really should be embodying that part of His gospel…
How? Again, I haven’t really worked that out yet – I’m more of a why and what person than a how person. I bet there are plenty of people who could come up with much better ideas than I ever could. So let’s start thinking about it… Let me know what you come up with – I’m all ears.
* If someone has already said this - and if it’s worth anything I’m sure they have – then sorry for the repeat sentiments.
**That's a real word! It means "giant."
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Bill Mallonee / Lands and Peoples, a review
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| Bill Mallonee |
Because of the record’s quiet beauty, it works well in the background, and it's got lyrical depth that makes it one of those oeuvres you can just lie on your bed and let it wash over you, sink into you… Like I used to do with R.E.M.’s records when they came out. It’s also not a coincidence that I bring up R.E.M., because 1. this record has a bit of that Byrds/R.E.M.-esque chiming guitar sound, and 2. Mallonee also played in an Athens, GA, band – Vigilantes of Love.
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| Mr. M used to be in this Athens, GA band. |
I wish I could say I knew more about that band, but I just don’t… although I became aware of that song Double Cure because it was on a compilation of V.O.L. songs that I bought through a Christian record club. (Remember record clubs? :-P) ’Cos Mallonee does love him some Jesus. Which is another thing I love about his stuff… that he loves Jesus. And it comes through, and not in a rusty hammer to the head way… but in a beautiful, sideways way that you can feel in your bones… that makes you feel like, “I’ll have what he’s having.” Even though his songs and his voice can be kinda sad…
DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional rock critic, although I always wanted to be (thank you, internet!) You may find that my reviews are informed less by objective analysis than by feelings and personal interpretation... but don’t people often choose music based on such things?
Sunday, June 14, 2015
I spit out like a sewer hole, yet still receive Your kiss
If you keep up with me on Facebook you know that my 11-year-old son and I are huuuuuuuge fans of The Who. In fact, Bill recently drew this awesome pic of himself as an homage to the cover of the Who by Numbers album. Anyway, when we drive around town, just the two of us, we play every Who album we own on a systematic rotation for our in-car listening pleasure.
And as I remarked earlier, hearing the songs repeatedly causes me to give them more than the passing thought I usually give to classic rock songs – the arrangements, the words and their possible meanings... these songs I've heard a thousand or more times... I may already even THINK I know what they mean, but... There's always some new flower of knowing that might bloom in this loamy brain of mine.
For instance, Pete’s hard rock rant, Who Are You... I’ve heard this song a GAZILLION times… but I JUST realized that it’s a song that ANSWERS ITS OWN QUESTION!! Go ahead, click here and listen to it again… and listen to the WHOLE THING. In the first two verses, you’ll hear Roger Daltrey pretty much spitting out this tale of a night in the life of an angry, lost man….
followed by the completely singable chorus which asks the song’s primary question:
and asks himself again:
First of all, what a great description of a drunken, raging night! I should know – I’ve had one or two…(not lately of course!) I mean, can’t you just see lanky late-seventies Pete going through this ordeal in lurid, dimly-lit London locales. (SO MUCH ALLITERATION!!!) And knowing that these lines refer to a specific night in Pete Townsend’s life makes me feel like I have important esoteric knowledge.
There’s a long blow-by-blow recount in Dave Marsh’s book, Before I Get Old; I’ll try to condense it here: So it’s the late seventies and punk rock is raging against the bloated excess of mainstream rock music machine and Pete and the boys are feeling the burn of it… even though The Who may actually have invented punk rock with all their rebellion and instrument smashing, and telling the whole of the older generation to “f-f-f-fade away,” they took punk rock’s raging personally.
Anyhoo, one night after a long day of business meetings – one of which involved the transfer of a sizable check, Pete goes into a pub and is none too sober when he spots a couple of actual Sex Pistols. He then rants and raves at them about the state of rock and roll – the stuff that’s bothering him about the whole life he’s living.
But these guys, they love Pete and the Who and they tell him so. But he’s not having it. He knows he embodies a lot of what they think is wrong with the music business. Then he leaves and falls asleep slumped down in a doorway until a policeman wakes him up BY NAME and sends him home to his wife (aka - The Rollin’ Pin).
So in the these verses he’s basically questioning the his own identity: “WHO ARE YOU??” he asks himself. “Everyone thinks I’m awesome, but aren’t I just a hack? Here’s the check to prove it!” and “The policeman knows my name, but do I know my own self?”
These are the familiar verses, but it’s the third verse that has just now sunk in. I was thinking how nice it sounded. I posted the lines on Facebook, because I love using song lyrics as status updates. Makes me feel all poetic, you know – without having to actually write anything. Anyway, it goes like this:
And this cool guy I knew in college, Artie Sparrow (That’s his real name! Isn’t it lovely?), left this comment: “Fun fact: that lyric is about Myrtle Beach.” Of course it is. At first I thought Artie was joking because… well, you know… Myrtle Beach? The Redneck Riviera? But then I remembered that there is a Meher Baba center at Myrtle Beach, and Pete Townshend loves him some Meher Baba, and his bio Who I Am explains that this refers to a visit there.*
MB is his GURU... although I’m not sure what that means. I honestly can’t say I would equate Meher Baba with the Divine – but Pete does. So… when Pete says, “There’s got to be another way,” in verse 2, and then moves on to the beautiful, meaningful ponder that is verse 3 – that what he means, it is the love of the Divine that defines us – not whether we’ve invented punk rock, whether we’re are-nows or has-beens… (Jew or Greek, man or woman, slave or free…**) Who are you? Who am I? Who is GOD? Who does God say I am? If we ask these last two questions, we will know the answers to the first two questions.
It’s just like when Pete says in the gorgeous song Bargain – “I sit lookin’ ‘round, I look at my face in the mirror.*** I know I’m worth nothing without you. And like one and one don’t make two, one and one make one. And I’m lookin’ for that free ride to me - I’m looking for You!” (creative capitalization mine!)
And Pete wrote this one several years before he struggled with these issues in Who Are You. Which goes to show, that we KNOW things to be true, but that doesn’t mean we don’t struggle with opposing FEELINGS. I’m pretty sure I don’t have to tell you this. Like when you KNOW that finishing off your kid’s fries after you’ve had your own just might not be the best thing for you, but you really have to struggle with the truth of it because dang it FRIES ARE DELICIOUS!! Heck, even St. Paul struggled with the difference between knowing and feeling! Check out Romans 8:21-25!
Of course matters of identity are a bit more serious than consuming mass quantities of fries… But we see from the letters of Paul that his recipients need to be repeatedly reminded of the fundamental sweetness and glory of the gospel – that is, that God loves people so much He sent his own Son to save them.**** And that’s WHO WE ARE. People God loves and deems worth saving.
*I can talk more about this if you really want to know, but this post is already so long…!!
***When we come to this line from Bargain in the car Bill and I both gaze wistfully into the rear view mirror. It cracks us up every time. If you want to read more of my crazy reflections about this song, you can read this post.
****John 3:16, of course!
I woke up in a Soho doorway
A policeman knew my name
He said "You can go sleep at home tonight
If you can get up and walk away"
I staggered back to the underground
And the breeze blew back my hair
I remember throwin' punches around
And preachin' from my chair
Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
Tell me, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
'Cause I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
Then our angry, lost man goes home and takes a moment to reflect…
I took the tube back out of town
Back to the Rollin' Pin
I felt a little like a dying clown
With a streak of Rin Tin Tin
I stretched back and I hiccupped
And looked back on my busy day
Eleven hours in the Tin Pan
God, there's got to be another way
Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
Tell me, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
'Cause I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
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| Actual Sex Pistols |
I know there's a place you walked
Where love falls from the trees
My heart is like a broken cup
I only feel right on my knees
I spit out like a sewer hole
Yet still receive your kiss
How can I measure up to anyone now
After such a love as this?
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| This is so lovely I made it a meme! PLUS the background is actually Myrtle Beach! |
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| Dang it! Fries are delicious! |
** Galations 3:28
****John 3:16, of course!
Monday, May 11, 2015
Father Dark, a book review
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| Men in kilts... yes, please! |
Now I have in no way been shy about my “literature” preferences. And I use quote marks because… well, I’m not sure that a lot of what I read could be called literature… For your reference, you can go here where I’ve confessed to a fascination with time travel/men in kilts and that genre of “literature” (again with the quotes!) and here where I reveal that I am a sucker for vampires.
I have no idea why I love this stuff – it just pulls me in and doesn’t let go. And there are well-written examples as well as (often) poorly edited, self-published drivel, which I read nonetheless. For a fix, doncha know.
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| Wings of Desire meets... |
And all this is to say, I recently had the fabulous experience of plowing through, inhaling, devouring a review book without once having that “when will this be over so I can read some fantasy?” feeling. Because … well, the review book, Father Dark by Stephen L. Case, plunged my imagination deep into a darkly humorous – yet touching – urban fantasy that turned all my knobs just the right way. To eleven.
And, really, that about sums it up: Angels. Priests. Vengeance. Mauling. Oh – and a big reveal that will make your heart sing.
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