Theodicy

Which son does the father's will?

The tax collecters and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of heaven,
And I fear, as before, the shedding of flesh, the moment of death
When I learn how little the living really see.

I walk in daylight half-convinced, as one who sleeps among the stars
A paradox pair of half-singed legs ,
An uncommon fondness toward fire.

What joy in heaven at the turning,
Joy in heaven at the sidelong step.

But I wake half-convinced of faer-folk,
Eyes half-shadowed, fearing sight of
What I know exists.

She said softly I would have a vision
"Just you wait, and you will see the sights"
But I am blind, fair teacher, I am blind

I see not nor justice as I ought
Is it not us who are unjust?
It is not God who makes us suffer thus.

"This parable," he says, collared high in white,
wrapped long in green and gold,
"This parable is about us."

I just saw Mr and Mrs Smith

There's alot of talk these days about violence: how it's bad, how it's the root of all problems. Heck, violence is almost as bad a word as sex used to be. And movies dont help, the glorify violence, it's true. Our modern fascination with huge explosions could be a problem as well. While traveling through europe, I had a tour guide named Dimitri who said he couldn't stand American blockbusters. Too big they were, too loud. He loved inderpendent films where the sotries were of common people--small stories, real stories.

I wonder about the first stories. Were they songs of violence, of the conquest of the heroes? Were they about the man, or just a man? Or woman?

You see, I think we will never be rid of the blockbuster. It's not only in our social consciousness, its in our blood, in our soul, in our nature. The hero? Yeah, we won't get rid of him.

Life of David

So today I bought several books at Borders, one of which was Robert Pinsky's Life of David. Pinsky, who usually writes poetry or poetic criticism, has branched out and in his new book looks to be both biographer and bard of the great Jewish king. It looks like it will rule. Stay tuned for more in depth coverage.

In other literary news, Gaiman's new novel, Anansi Boys, the sequal to the amazing/disappointing American Gods came out today. Will Gaiman redeem the lackluster ending of his last novel? Only time and a good read will tell.

Dante

I attended a lecture by McReynolds on Dante tonight. I forgot how amazing he is. I was convicted by William's comment that the way of the poet and the artist is always the way of affrimation, never the way of negation, the way of word and image, not the way of black and blankness. I have tried the way of negation in poetry and have found it unsatisfactory. I just published a poem in the Symposium which I got some negative reviews on, and I think the main reason was that I was intentionally following a way of negation. I am convicted by Dante to follow the more traditional way.

But what to affirm? What not to affirm? That is the question.

Nothing is sound

After a few listens I can say that the new switchfoot album is worth the wait and the money. Is it as good as their last album? The melodies aren't as immediately catching. Is it as good as Learning to breathe? The lyrics arent as unified or in depth. Is is as good as Legend of Chin? dream on, Legend of Chin will never be touched. Is it good? All signs point to yes. Is it different? Yes in that there are some new influences at play. I see some POD and Nickelback influences in the first song, some Audioslave in the third, and some Mutemath throughout. How intentional is this? I don't know. But the album is good and I trust Jon, Tim, Chad, and Jerome enough to know that the more I listen, the more I will love.

9/11

9.11
Yes, yes, it has been four years, and I hear that there is a threat on LA for tomorrow. The terror alert status is at yellow, which is elevated, and the man in the threat video was clearly anglo. I wonder just how far this will go. Will the terrorists unite, perhaps under a nation, perhaps under a religion? We all know that Islam has hostile tendencies, but then again, I cant hide the Christian scriptures which talk of Christ as a conquering king, a bloodstained warrior with a sword coming from His mouth. That’s right, His mouth. Talk about strange, talk about threatening, talk about intolerant. Intolerantly Intolerant. The phrase came to me today. I don’t see why we’re so worked up about Those ‘dang liberals’ being tolerant of everyone but ‘us Christians’. Of course they don’t tolerate us, we’re the intolerant! Intolerance should not be tolerated if toleration is the name of the game! When we call them on their ‘inconsistancy’ on their 'self-contraditction'. They’ll probably reply, ‘tell us something we don’t know; of course we cant tolerate you! Didn’t you learn anything about categories in those private schools of yours? It’s not that we hate your people, it’s just that your philosophy is antithetical to ours, so we disagree. Big deal.’ If only we could argue so succinctly. But we whine and moan and it’s only a matter of time before… A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another as I have loved you

Though September has but begun,
Though yester-days were clear and hot,
The clouds today foreshadow fall,

Fall and warm coffee-pumpkin concoctions at the corner café,
Browning palm fronds, the subtle bite of the California west wind,
And the first collected thoughts of the school year, the pathos
Of the eager teacher, welcoming the early evening an hour after bell-song.

Dust on windshields dampens, and though there are no drops of rain,
The smog is no longer the spry child that it was weeks ago; it slinks low
On the cityscape horizon, blends with dark rooftops, haunts attics
With old memories of the unshadowed sun.

The girl in the summer dress, all blue and slippery sheen, is underdressed.
The occasion calls for the thick of cotton, the long of scarf, the ridge of corduroy,
Calling consumer to remember that miles up and away in Big Bear
Snow will soon meet peaks, and we valley dwellers would do well to follow suit.

The green of neon announcing donuts is no longer the new life,
the spring birth, youth, but instead sprouts sprigs of holly.
Red is berry, red is nose, red is sash, no longer sun.

Art

I attended this panel discussion in art last night, and it raised some interesting questions in my mind. First, what are those things in art which are analogous to ideas in philosophy? Are there artistic ideas? Not just ideas about art, but ideas that art discusses, asks questions with and about, creates, or even discovers? This question really interests me, because I'm really taken with the notion that there is truth that art deals with and discovers. What do you think?

ACLU

I suppose that I'm glad that the ACLU exists. In the past I've thought that perhaps they were the scourge of american democracy, but I suppose they're good for us just like the people forming militias in their basements are good for us. They are the extreme left, and if they didnt fill the shoes of non-sensical left-wing extremists, who would? Where would be the man who believes you should be free to do anything and everything you want? Now I'm not saying you should be or are that free, but I am saying: doesn't it seem appropriate that someone thinks a crazy thing like that?

I think it's the same thing with the rich. It's fun to make fun of the rich, to expose the outrageouness of celebrity lifestyle and Bill Gates' ridiculous extravigance. I very much agree that we should help the poor and that hard work is most often good work, but I also think that it would be a great loss to society if there were no mansions on hillsides, if there were (as John Mark Reynolds has said) no more silly ladies who owned 2000 pairs of shoes.

Extremes seem appropriate in most societies, don't they?

Disney

I have sucessfully watched both Aladdin and the Lion king today. Who knew Disney was so amazing? Their effortless blend of love and pain, kid story and adult drama, greco-roman and judeo-christian mythos is nothing less than brilliant. Do they know how good they are? Do they know they are the shakesperes of the 20th century, bringing the stories of the past to the ignorant populace of today?

People should be continually learning
But instead they remain steadfast in their ignorance

People should be continually rebuilding
But instead they jealously guard their untouched brick-piles

People should be continually humbled by love
But instead they scream for quiet, beg for independance, demand no binding sentence.

People should be continually rejoicing,
But instead they write like flames against the hated fire.

Katrina, Katrina, what have you reduced us to?
Katrina, Katrina, what have you raised us to?