and here i rest

I decided to start a photo-journal this week. It is called, appropriately enough, Art is for the birds.

Who knows, I might actually keep it updated from time to time. We'll see.

In other news, I wrote this poem last month. Its about spring. I got to read it this morning for a chapel at my school, which was a great blessing. Take care.

rainfall

longing is the essence of noticing
something beautiful,
and wrestling with never staying the same.

here in an apartment of a friend:
3 potted plants on a window sill,
a green apple on a low cut brown table,
the sun reflecting shadows of a weeping vine on the wall,
distorted figures like a forgotten sense of faith,
a lack of trust in the senses when it comes to
something beautiful; love offered freely like water in a rainfall.

we hang around like second hand couches with covers,
listening to cars and typing keys,
like soundless pianos.
and with our hearts we long for a symphony,
and ode to belonging on a quiet afternoon,
something we have not prepared our hearts for.
We never say thank you unless life is good,
And we never say “save me” when life is fine

and I have felt it,
that pain of being slightly human.
It stays with me like an afterthought.
I should learn to say what I really mean.
or learn to mean something less confusing.

I feel a lot like saying “save me” too,
That is the problem with being so open;
I don’t feel fine when I lie anymore.
It hurts a lot being this transparent.

And all I have wanted to know is that I'm beautiful.
I can’t live without love, in the end.

ghosts and angels

ghosts

The cold shivers like ghosts
haunting melody, piano,
keys tie together as if sewn by hand.

how did I wake up today?
solitude is lost like artless prose,
beauty refuses to acknowledge our arrival.

I can hear her sing, faintly,
Clair de Lune,
odeless words sing like old sea shanties.
In early hours I listen for her voice.

What beauty do I have to call to now?
an ode is cast for no arrival,
no hands to capture this melody.

Why is grace to write songs given,
only to be left remote, unknown?

The breeze shivers like angels
haunting refrain, guitar,
strings resigned to quiet peace;

a maid-in-waiting humming softly in the night.

ruby don't go downtown, ruby come in and stay

umm.

damn. I sat down to type some profound thought, but I forgot what it was. bah!

So, life. Last night I put on an arts gallery here at CBC, and about 30 people showed up for conversation, all the while I was making sure a healthy amount of tea and coffee was made, and an even healthier amount of Ryan Adams and Belle & Sebastian were playing in the background.

I owe you pictures. My camera has been on the dead side of things. The picture posted above, for the time being, is a picture of "Afterthoughts"- a cafe I frequent with friends (girls) with images of italian people kissing painted on the walls. I took this picture ten minutes before closing time, after reading some wendell berry.

Everyone, by the way, should read "The Art of the Commonplace" at some point in life.

Tonight I'm hosting a concert for this guy. Thus is my continued life of planning arts shows, trying to suck less at public speaking, and trying to actually experience this thing called "life" I'm always talking about.

Now... if only I could remember what I wanted to say.

Your homework for this week is to listen to Jacob and Lily. I booked an outdoor concert for them last year at school, and it continues to be one of the highlights of my life. "Ruby" is really good.

Enjoy.

no I am not where I belong

For some reason I am way too wired to write anything intelligable, but I will try anyway just to bug you.

Some friends and I took a road trip to a place called "Naam" in Vancouver last night. It was a small vegan place, full of mostly artsy people (with the occasional tradesman guys there who looked really out of place). I must say, I was impressed. I tried a tea made mostly with nettle, peppermint (the kinds of things in my backyard which often fall prey to lawnmowers).

They had this cheescake there with an organic blueberry sauce, which changed how I think about blueberries. In general, actual food has those earthy qualites which almost turn tasting into experiencing.

...As opposed to simulated blueberry flavours, which try and pretend they taste like anything profound. Why eat fake food when the real thing is so easily accesible?

I think, too often, our cultural mindset tells us to go after something that looks like love, or something that tastes sort of like something that tastes good, rather than go for the real thing. Of course, the real thing just takes a bit more work and imagination, doesen't it?

Experiencing life could be as easy as standing outside on a rainy morning, or as difficult as dropping 2000 bucks to fly to some tropical fantasy. I dunno. This notion has always made me kind of cynical- which I don't like to be.

~

In other news, i feel a little down today. Its gray out, I have homework, and I have not payed bills in 3 weeks. Which is all trivial in the grand scheme of things.

This is what being in college is like, friends. Life is, as Anne Lamott described "Pretty good, some problems".

Later

we do know fear

So, apparently, there is an unwritten set of rules for blogging no-one ever told me about. Among them, all of which I have probably broken many a time, are:

a) Using too many commas
b) Discussing more than one subject each entry
c) Failing to unite a long commentary with a witty, slightly facetious, one-liner.
d) Using big words
e) Being either to honest or too vague
f) Creating a fake persona (as opposed to being the same person both online and inlife).
g) posting pictures of new-born children

Ok, so I haven't broken that last rule yet.... and I never will!

So... I'm not really up for trying to unpack how I'm feeling into a charming work of prose- as important as being completely honest is (I'll make it up to you). Rather, I'm going to leave you a list of movies you ought to see, if you haven't seen a good movie lately.

Once
The Dead Poet's Society
Babette's Feast
Lars and the Real Girl
Dan in Real Life
The Big Kahuna
Beyond the Sea
Good Will Hunting
Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason (Hey, stop lauging. I like chick-flicks).
~

"Mercy and truth have met together. Righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another. Man, in his weakness and shortsightedness believes he must make choices in this life. He trembles at the risks he takes. We do know fear. But no. Our choice is of no importance.

There comes a time when our eyes are opened and we come to realize that mercy is infinite. We need only await it with confidence and receive it with gratitude.

Mercy imposes no conditions. And lo! Everything we have chosen has been granted to us. And everything we rejected has also been granted. Yes, we even get back what we rejected. For mercy and truth have met together, and righteousness and bliss shall kiss.

- Lorens, from "Babette's Feast"

- Adam

its been a long time

Two moments of epiphany that I came across yesterday:

1) The essential journey that everyone will take is to be noticed.

2) We are the books we keep.

And, PS- My house is very lacking in solitude right now. I'm trying to think of the nicest way to say "I think we need to move on" to my roommates.

PPS- I'm still thinking about Oregon sometime in May. Want to come?

We found our way into the afternoon

Some updates:

1) I finished my paper a couple days ago (A study on Hosea 11). It took way too long, and sections are written way too emotionally. Remind me never to try and express overt amounts of heart into a research paper. Ever again.

I'm just about done doing the editing now. I am, noticably, sick of writing. I did get to uncover some interesting insights on traveling with my paper. Its not too bad.

2) I spent my whole week paper-izing, thus avoiding the vices of romance, holding hands, and kissing under a long sun-set by the west coast ocean. Sigh.

I'm starting to realize, gradually, that life has it's joy whether or not the love we experience is romantic. I could be wrong.

3) Beirut is coming to Vancouver. I can't wait! Well... I can. Because I think my ex is going (bah!). Even so.

4) The picture I just posted is of my friends from Vancouver, Laureate. I'm hoping that, sometime In the next two years, one of these guys will be able to hook me up with a job at JJ Bean- a coffee chain in Vancouver that I really like, being that they sell good coffee, and being that many cute girls work there.

Ah yes. I can see it now. I'll have to go down to the thirft store and artsify my closet soon. Not to mention my life.

5) March is definately the most stressful month of the school year, in terms of assignments. Expect many a sad story this month.

Oh, speaking of that, I wrote three long poems about life in my alone time this break (go figure). Here is one of them:

We found our way into the afternoon,
Or we stumbled, short of grace,
Short of any words to say.
We fill awkward silence with new folk music,
And discuss old books, long trade rides to Salem and
Portland Oregon.
Someone told me that is where coffee calls home.
I’m sure of that.
I’ve always thought coffee was home in commercial drive,
Or else home is wherever we hold hands.

Theres something to be said for community,
Tall stools and light-brown house cappuccinos-
In other places they always look better than they taste,
But not at JJ Bean.
I have yet to find a better coffee than that rainy night we shared
Dark roast in small quaint mugs, white contrasting the Kenyan blend,
With nuances of grapefruit
And quiet spring mornings.

...Sometimes we say words for the sake of saying them,
because they feel good to say, instead of keeping them to ourselves
and living out our days with worry.
Or we leave our questions in small comment boxes
For someone else to pick up and carry
For a little while.

~

In any case. I think we should hang out, who ever is reading this. If we are ever within the same 60 mile radius of each other give me a shout.

I like this plan. Later.