The Sweetest Things

God damn the movement; damn the passing days
And all that rush existence toward its end;
Subdue the sun and slow its aging rays;
Shake up the pattern, twist Time’s twisted end.
For life grows rich with age, but falls to rot,
Like ripening fruit, so soon to go to waste,
Like final tongues of fire, crazed and hot,
Destruction hides beyond the brightest taste.
The ruin came that day, when I awoke
To find her lifeless, lying by my side,
Her lips gone cold, her hair as gray as smoke,
Her feeble fingers grafted into mine.
God damn you, Time. You give, and give, then take
The sweetest things, so full before they break.

Sinfulness

I've written about this before, but I don't think I've changed my position at all since the spring.

We are going to hell. There's just no way around it. I realized this today as I drove past a homeless man on my way to rent a shirt, vest and tie for $55. I need these items for a single evening, and I honestly hate wearing them, yet I threw away $55 - enough to buy eleven good meals.

This represents excess. This Saturday, I'll be wearing expensive clothes, eating a gormet meal, and dancing the night away (insert vomit) while Travis, the seventh-grader I mentor, whose father is dead and mother is in prison, will probably hang out alone and/or get bitched out by a random relative. Something's not right in the ballance here, friends.

It's a culture problem. I and the rest of my culture believe we are entitled to little "treats" once in a while, qualifying that belief by claiming we're not "rich" by American standards. But in truth, we are ... just look around.

"But it's nice to dress up and go out to a fancy place sometime ..." Well, it's also nice to eat a meal once in a while, or to sleep on a real bed; lots of folks don't have those luxuries. While I don't think it's a sin to live comfortably, I'm convinced it is a sin to indulge in things we don't need. I will go to hell because I own: an iPod, too many shoes, books I have never read and never will read, two record playes, "collections" of a number of items, "toys," a tobacco pipe, an assortment of random instruments ... you get the idea.

These are the things we don't want to give up. Sure, God has "blessed" us with money, by which we can enjoy these things, but I'm pretty sure he didn't intend for us to waste it like this. By living this lifesyle, the lifestyle of excess, we are damning ourselves to hell. "But I can't give up my (fill in the blank)!" I know ... neither can I. However, we'll have to do it to save our own souls. Remember that one thing Jesus said that one time, that it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven? I think this is what he's talking about.

And it's not so much that we don't give enough as it is that we waste what we have. I'll bet God smiles upon someone who saves money and doesn't splurge - that person isn't throwing cash away ... he's being smart. When the time comes to give, he'll have the resources to do so. Most of us, on the other hand, convince ourselves that we need things, then blow our money on them. Then, we make up excuses for not donating, saying, "Oh, this isn't a good time for me right now." Bullshit ... You just went skiing for a week - you're telling me you can't "adopt an angel" for Christmas? There's no excuse. We can't stand before God and tell him that we've been good stewards of our resources, because we haven't.

With Christmas fast-approaching, it's hard not to mention gifts and presents and all. Get things going on the right track ... instead of buying your friends a bunch of shit they don't need and are likely to trash pretty soon, give something useful to someone who needs it. Don't buy toys for some impoverished little kid ... do kids really need more dolls and cars? Let 'em play with a damn piece of cardboard. They'll have more fun anyway. Get them warm coats, socks, shirts ... or how about some food? Maybe a gift certificate? You can even donate money in honor of your friends and family ... that way, everyone wins.

I'm really feeling terrible about all this. All on account of those retarded tuxedo accessories. The sad part is, I could have declined the invitiation to go, were I not so afraid of sounding like a bitch or being misunderstood. Oh well. Live and learn. At least it brought this issue back to the front of my mind. Really, though - we have no excuses. I challenge you, my friends, to join me in purging our lives of excess.

Mmmm

I love vinyl. Love it. I am currently listening to ALL my Elvis 45s.

I found a tux today at Goodwill. Sweet. (You know I hate tuxedos, but a cheap tux is worth its weight in gold) ...

The show went pretty well on Saturday. Tons of technical problems and scheduling confusion, but everything seemed well-received. The electric stuff was fun ... I need to do that every once in a while - it has a special place in my heart.

I have this reel of 8mm film I shot close to a year ago ... I've decided to send it in for processing just to see what comes out. I just experimented with it, so it may look awful. Fun, nonetheless.

Speaking of experiments, I'm really, really excited about the new "The Decadent Obsession" record. I hope to have it finished by the end of the year. I haven't gotten very good feedback about it yet, but I think it will make more sense when it's all together as a whole. I just love some of the sounds on there. I'm trying to A) express artistic decadence - push music, words, sonics, all to the breaking point; and B) to put songs in a new context. More on that later.

I'm also pumped about Thanksgiving. Just - what? - 9 days away? Maybe 8? It finally got cold today. When I left the house at 9:15 this morning, I was sweating. Around noon or so, however, the weather became rather delightful. That's pumpkin pie weather, right there. I'm awaiting that canned, jello-like cranberry sauce ... that's the good stuff.

I'm off. Have a great night.

Books on the shelf

New Arkansas photos at ThePhotoHat ...

Also, let me take this time to inform you of Saturday's show. Common Grounds, 10:00 p.m. ... Full band this time, suckas. And Marshall's going to open up the show at 9:30 or so. Come out and join the fun.

It's 5:30 a.m. ... There is NO good reason to be blogging at this hour. Humans really are creatures of habit, hmmm? Wait ... what does that mean?

In other news, my beard has officially hit the status of "nappy" ... I've waited for this my whole life. Sweet.

Dream

I had a strange dream last night. All I remember is that I was playing around with a digital camera ... which, as you know, is very out-of-character for me. I also remember cutting the bones out of my lower legs and replacing them with PVC pipe ... just for fun. And I remember telling someone about it, and having them advise me "not to run" on those legs.

A tale of soup and love gone wrong

I finally pissed off the people at Schlotzky's.

This being potato with bacon day, I went in with Kelly to grab my usual ... soup and water. As I returned to the cauldron for my third cup of soup, the following conversation transpired:

WORKER: Hey, do you know how many refills you get on that?
BRIAN: Nope.
WORKER: Two. I mean, one. One refill. You get two bowls. And that's like number three for you.
BRIAN: So, do you want me to pour this back in there?
WORKER: No. I guess it's cool this time, but just so you'll know ...
BRIAN: I've been getting soup refills for months and nobody's said anything to me.
WORKER: Yeah, well there's no sign or anything, but we're actually about to move the soup behind the counter so people won't do that anymore.

You may or may not know this, but I like to hold grudges. I stopped filling up at the Exxon on 5th street, because they charged me $4 for some slurpee-type drink. I stoped eating red meat because I didn't have anything better to do. And now, my friends, I will stop eating at Schlotzky's. Why? Because they have become less than ideal.

Really, though. I come in multiple times a week, with people, and consistantly provide them money and business. Not just from myself, but from my friends, as well. And who eats the damn soup anyway? I've gone in there 30 minutes before closing time and there was plenty of soup left. They're not hurting in the soup department.

Thus, today ends a delightful year of warm soup and good conversation. 2005 has been the year of Schlotzky's, but that year has drawn to a close. Like a sweet relationship turned sour, I'm left only with hurt and bitterness.

Scholtzky's, you just made yourself an enemy.

Tears and anecdotes
Are too feeble to carry
The weight of a man