A Dream

Last night, I dreamed that my steering wheel was cold and my nose was red and running from the chill outside.

Just a dream. Sad.

Rock The Vote

So I was supposed to play at a Rock The Vote concert this evening. I got an email yesterday from the girl in charge of it ...

It seems the Rock The Vote concert has been replaced by a performance from a politically-conscious rap group called "Go 4 It." I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

Greetings from Hell!

Since I came in from the Lariat at 4 p.m. today, there has been a crowd of excited people in my living room playing extremely loud street-fighter video games.

Now, at 9:19 p.m., they are playing a high-volume round of Mortal Combat. There are cries and grunts and screams coming from the next room. It sounds like Armageddon. If I could imagine the belch of Satan to sound like anything, it would sound like this.

Wish you were here.

Inside out

Last night, I wanted to stop walking and melt into the cement. I wanted to dissapear.

I've been writing a lot lately, and it's put me in a strange mood. I dunno. Kind of an interesting phenomenon.

I'm listening to a CD of Blake's high school jazz band. Pretty excellent stuff. White Christmas ... mmmmm ... I'm freakishly excited about the holidays. I've been craving turkey lately - turkey, dressing, gravy and that canned cranberry sauce. I tried eating some of that cranberry sauce by itself a few days ago ... it's just not the same.

I need darkness. I need a chill to the air. I need gloves and a warm coat. I need blurred beams of piercing yellow light. I need a cold steering wheel. I need to see my breath, to feel my frozen nose and ears with my fingertips.

Come on, winter.

In other news, I've been listening to the Florence Mildred album for the past 24 hours. My cousin, Joe Chainsaw, is the drummer. I would encourage you to go check it out. No. I command you.

Brit Lit test tomorrow, over Hard Times, Frankenstein and The Importance of Being Earnest. Then of course there's the Napoleon Dynamite dollar movie party tonight. Hmmmm.

Don't die. I love you.

One Year Today

The noise is coming out
And if it's not out now
Then tomorrow, tomorrow
They took your life apart
And called you failure's art
They were wrong, though
They wont know
'Til tomorrow ...

-Elliott Smith

Excerpt

Here's a bit of James J. Kilpatrick for you, from his piece, "The Foxes' Union." This guy might be the best writer in history.

It is a well known fact, attested by Virginians of all ages, that Virginia has the most beautiful springs in the American Republic ... In some years, April bursts upon our hills in one prodigious leap -- and all the stage is filled at once, whole choruses of tulips, arabesques of forsythia, cadenzas of flowering plum. The trees grow leaves overnight.

In other years, spring tiptoes in. It pauses, overcome by shyness, like a grandchild at the door, peeping in, ducking out of sight, giggling in the hallway. "Heather!" I want to cry, "I know you're out there. Come in!" And April slips into our arms. The dogwood bud, pale green, is inlaid with russet markings. Within the perfect cup, a score of clustered seeds are nestled. One examines the bud in awe: Where were those seeds a month ago? The maples do not come forth in green; they are flowering red, soft as slippers, in tassels like a jester's scepter. The flowering almond is pink, absurdly pink, little girl pink, as pink as peppermint and cream.

Our dark mountains, great-hipped, big-breasted, slumber on the western sky, their massive bulk as still as bronze by Henry Moore; and then they stretch and gradually awaken. A warm wind, soft as a girl's hair, moves sailboat clouds in gentle skies. The rains come -- good rains to sleep by -- and fields that were dun as oatmeal turn to pale green, then to Kelly green. More daffodils! They form a marching band of golden sousaphones. Wild strawberries! They nestle on the hillside, rubies tumbled from a jewler's tray. Fresh mint! Parsley, thyme, chives!

Mmm mmm, good.

Changes

I posted a pretty nice stack of photos on ThePhotoHat. Check 'em out.

A change in scenery

I just got back in from a weekend at Texas A&M, the land of sleeping, apple cider, parking disasters and college sports. We ate at the cafeteria, a Chinese buffet and Rudy's BBQ. In addition, we played guitars and watched a lot of Family Guy and The Count of Monte Cristo.

I managed to sleep for two nights on the tile floor of Blake's dorm room. As we explored the campus yesterday, I decided that A&M certainly would not have been the right fit for me. I also realized that, had I attended A&M, I would have been the weirdest person on campus. I think I like that.

A change in the winds

This past week was fairly significant, in that I decided, once and for all, that journalism will not be my chosen line of work. Hanging out at the Lariat makes me nervous. I couldn't even do that day in and day out. So no journalism for me. Perhaps I'll teach literature to high school kids or something.

A change in the air

Two things invaded my life this week: fall weather and a new addition to my music collection.

Before my Thursday evening drive, it grew cool enough to merit wearing a sweater. I wore one with gladness. When the night came, I loaded my car, turned on the Nick Drake album and made my way to College Station.

The combination was magnificant. It felt like family, like crackling fire and sparkling lights in the dark. It smelled like Halloween night, like hot, spiced coffee and a brisk wind. It sounded like easy breathing, like empty loneliness and desperate resolution.

I came to life. I arrived at A&M in a trance.

A change of lanes

I haven't been as consistent lately - There's a reason. I've made a decision to ease up on the e-culture thing. Too much internet, and I'm trying to slow down. So I'm on a "fast" of sorts. No AOL and limited blogging ... So that's where I've been. I've got too much going on in my life right now, and I'm letting go of internet stuff to make room.

But I still love you. You know that.

Peace.

Reading is fun

I don't like Christian books.

If someone gives me a book to read, I always enjoy it for the first couple of chapters. But when the author begins to talk about Jesus in chapter 3, I get dissapointed. I don't like realizing that Christian books are Christian.

I read one really great Christian book - Wild At Heart, by John Eldredge. I loved it, and I connected with it, but even that one dissapointed me slightly. And I tried to read another one of Eldredge's books, The Sacred Romance, but it was too Christian. I lost interest.

All that to say ... I just finished Blue Like Jazz. I didn't know it was a Christian book until I began reading it. But I saw myself in the author, so I didn't give up.

Turns out, the author is my twin. Perhaps I'm not as unique as I think I am, but I certainly have never heard anyone else admit to doing Elvis impressions in the mirror and obsessing over good poetry. So I connected with this book.

It's absolutely a Christian book, but I didn't mind at all. Miller seemed to be fighting the same things I'm fighting now. He writes with honesty, from a very human point of view. He talks about his mistakes and shortcomings, and offers a bit of hope in God.

Don Miller was real in this book, and I loved that. It was an affirmation to me.

It's okay to be where I am ... It's human, natural.

For a good time, call Amazon.com.

I awoke this morning to the smell of fall. It's a big day.