The Worms at Heaven's Gate

Out of the tomb, we bring Badroulbadour,
Within our bellies, we her chariot.
Here is an eye. And here, one by one,
The lashes of that eye an its white lid.
Here is the cheek on which that lid declined,
And, finger after finger, here the hand,
The genius of that cheek. Here are the lips,
The bundle of the body and the feet.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Out of the tomb we bring Badroulbadour.

I've never been crazy about Wallace Stevens' poetry before ... but last night, I began to love it. The poem printed above is just a glance at the depth and wit of his work ... I'd encourage you to read more.

I did worship for a D-Now in Italy, TX this weekend. The little things went well ... no technical problems, no broken strings, no stuttering speakers ... but the kids in that group could care less about anything. Forget spirituality. They don't care if they're failing at school, if they get arrested ... nothing. Probably the worst group of kids ever. The only light was the junior-high boys group ... they were a delight ... refreshing, really ... the leaders of the group. Brent, my friend who serves as youth pastor out there, needs prayer. Big time. He has quite a task ahead of him ... stirring this group from complacency. Keep him in your thoughts.

After a few weeks of searching, I think I've found a place to live for the next year or so. It's a small one-bedroom, but it's all I need. Either today or tomorrow, I'll be signing a lease. Get excited.

I'm doing a show in McGregor on Friday night at 8pm, if anyone's interested. I'll serve up some new songs I've been cooking for a while. And on Saturday, I'm joining m'boy Jared Crump for a show at Common Grounds ... sure to thrill your soul.

Keep it real. love, brian.

Trouble

Communication's one thing
We never seem to find
O Lord, I'm sorry
But there's trouble on the line

I love country music. Now on to more serious things.

Sometimes I find myself teetering back and forth between passion and hopelessness. It's almost like my highest points are immediately followed or preceded by my lowest. This is what I've been feeling lately.

I'm in the middle of the most fruitful period of my life, as far as writing goes. I really believe that. But when I fail to bear fruit, I feel like I'm being choked by hopelessness. I spent hours of my evening in a chair, numb and dead. I stared at things, I entertained myself with mindless comedy - I went into a coma. I began to hate my surroundings, to scorn the people I love and yearn for a more interesting life. But as soon as I got a creative idea, I was back on top again.

It's almost like life's not worth the effort if I can't or don't create.

It doesn't have to be anything I'm in love with, either. Two days ago, I wrote a horrible pop/country song that I hated ... but I was driven to do it. I thrived on the act of creation - heartless, tearless creation. I didn't pour myself into the lyrics, but I poured myself into the creation of the lyrics. It's like an addiction ... and I get withdrawals.

A bit of honesty for you ... I suppose you know me a little better now.

Loretta

This old gal's alright.

I picked up "Van Lear Rose" tonight, and I'll go ahead and say it's one of the best records I've heard in a few years.

Fresh Ideas

I'm in the early stages of developing a theme for a new record. It's rather exciting (not to mention different) this time. Mmm hmm.

Tagged?

I've been tagged by Mr. Wagner, though he didn't tell me in person and I had to figure it out on my own.

Ground Rules: The first player of this "game" starts with the topic "5 weird habits of yourself", and people who get tagged need to write a blog entry about their 5 weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end you need to choose the next person to be tagged and list his/her name. Don't forget to leave a comment that says "you are tagged" on his/her blog and tell them to read yours.

1. I always wear shoes in the kitchen. Always. Even when it's clean, I don't like the sticky-Windex clean feeling on my feet.

2. I always set my alarm to abnormal times. Like, I'll wake up at 7:03 a.m., never 7:00. Or perhaps 8:44. Never a standard, round-to time.

3. I shave my feet. This one may not be very original, since most of you know about it. But it's true. I shave 'em. I have more hair than anyone I know on my head/face, but the feet are squeaky-clean.

4. I wear socks turned inside-out (when I wear socks at all). I like the way it feels, and it helps keep the seams from rubbing blisters on my toes when I wear boots.

5. I eat one thing at a time. Sandwich and chips? All the chips will be gone before I eat the sandwich. Usually, the things I like the least are eaten first. The only real exception is at Thanksgiving, when I mix all the food together.

That took a lot of thought, and I don't think mine was a good as Wagner's. Ummmm... Jen Russell. Go.

Overkill

After months of work and gallons of scientific chemicals, I think it's safe to say the debut (and probably last) record from "The Decadent Obsession" is nearly complete. Just a bit of mastering, and we should be ready for a listening party. Prepare yourselves for a monstrous event -- fireworks, dragons, dancers, bobbing for apples, and clowns for the kids.

Seriously, though. I'm going to have a listening party in a few weeks, and I want you to be there.

I've started reading The Bell Jar, and I think I like it. Sylvia Plath writes prose a lot like Salinger, and you know I'm all over that. Though much of the imagery thus far is related to caskets, which is a bit morbid, she seems very normal and approachable as a writer. Honest, I suppose. I can relate to her. I hope to finish this book and read A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man before class begins next week. Hold me to that, please.

Bush is going to Portland tomorrow morning. I'm a tad jealous. I'll just sit at home and breathe music and literature instead.