When everyone is sleeping...

There is something wonderful about feeling the sun come up. Breathing the new chances and smelling the quiet peace. A quick 6.30am errand to Safeway turns into an adventure. An adventure because so few other people are experiencing it. Wonderful. Wonderful how the roads are empty, save a lone pickup and two motorcycles. There is an invisible mist - the kind that hangs over meadows and rolling hills in Ireland. Well - this one had its origins in our sprinkler system, but it's as close to Ireland as I can get. Trees are overgrowing the roads and spreading canopies over my favorite haunts. Everytime I go beneath a tree canopy in my car - it is magical and perfect and too good to be true. It speaks of quiet paths to hidden coves and new beginnings, stray sunbeams casting pinpoint spotlights on unsuspecting celebrities of the moment. I'm not a morning person - not yet, but I'm getting dangerously close.

This is why you should not speak before 7am unless you have reviewed what you're about to say at least 3 times.

"I think that looks cool. Yeah, I'm gonna do that. I'm going to cut off all the flaps over all the zippers on all of my pants."

I see

i watched a kite and his boy. i saw him set the line and angle the wings.

Go! Run! To the grips!

blonde hair bleached by the sun ran along the length of string, arms pumping beside him until he arrives, panting, at his post. Spinning away from the wind, he raises the grips to his chest and pulls with all his might. A moment's hesitation before the great blue and white canvas delta rises shakily into the sky. Air swells beneath it for a moment but fades quickly, and the kite falls gracefully back to the freshly cut grass.

Come back! My line needs straightening! I must face the winds! Hurry, before we miss the next gust!

run he does - again and again without lasting success until finally, back hunched in defeat, the small boy shoulders his massive flyer and trudges out of sight.

Don't worry. I loved it anway.

Communion

"Repent!" comes the call. Just return, but the road is tired and my soles are full of holes. What!?! Evil that I never consider in the midst of my passions. Blood I don't feel dripping from my eyes and off my chin. Too much pain to even feel anymore. No, I don't feel it -- but I know it's there -- after I've gnashed my teeth and thrown my body upon the rocks among the tombs. "Savior!" comes my drunken call, my chain wrapping my neck as a boa constrictor -- links that imprint and scar.

You've answered my crazed screams again...again...In disbelief I watch you coming -- walking on water and riding the clouds. Ashamed at Your mercy and faithfulness in light of myself, I slip into an empty tomb, hiding myself in darkness. But the light -- Your light comes out of even the darkness. And your shining grows -- beginning from the deepest black where not even the most devilish creatures dare to go. You conquer death and so have beaten them all. Your golden warmth flows across the dusty floor like a flooding river, reverse waterfalls that climb the walls. A song. What is it? Beautiful. And the shepherd finds me again - alone and cold, bleeding and saturated. Tempted by the best-looking fruit but trapped in the ugliest tomb.

You smile and touch my cheek, "Sweet child of mine. I know. Return with me. The rocks on the way back are sharp - the way is dangerous. I will carry you." It is then that I see the gashes of Your feet and the blisters on Your heel. Calloused hands and a sweat-soaked tunic. But Your eyes are only for me. Loving me. As You walk I bury my head in Your chest and sob -- but Your footing is sure and Your pace is swift. We walk on water and ride the clouds together. Back. Back to Peace.

but who are we
really
to theorize
and philosophize
which feeble ideas
are left to try

evil thinks of

ways to

take

and break

to prod with iron

their quiet ache

who has been

lost in

drink

can't think

how far will they

let you sink

until one of us

must

dive

and cry

that we are full

of lies

now let me

jump

to redeem

your screams

till all's left

are dreams

let me look to your eyes and sigh

before we both must die.

Found

Beneath a pile of car magazines and 3x5 photos of Michigan under my bed. Scrawled on a scrap peace of paper, written I'm not sure when.

I feel like I'm always plotting, scheming, or seething. Always jealous over something or someone, trapped in my insecure lies and whispering doubts. Where is my beach? Where is my island? What arrogance! I always want them to come to me. Always. Fear. Fear that they don't want me, never did, and won't unless I scheme...master plan.

All we Need

Maybe because it's summer

People don't blog enough.

Present company excepted.

:)

3x5

"Maybe I will tell you all about it when I'm
in the mood to lose my way
but let me say
You should have seen that sunrise with your own eyes
it brought me back to life
You'll be with me next time I go outside
NO more 3x5's "

--John Mayer: 3x5

Today I sat at a stop sign (in my car) in the thriving, tiny town of Buckley while crooning Alyson Krauss and scanning the busy intersection for my opening to enter traffic.

He was truding along the shoulder of 410 with his thumb protruding from a clenched and dirty fist. A blue hiker's pack half the size of his body sat high on his back. An ice pick was strapped to the front of the pack and the glistening blade of a hatchet reflected the soon to be setting sun.

I was excited to pick him up. Only twice before have I had the opportunity to give a ride to a stranger. Once to a skater whose truck ran out of gas -- and once to a young lady on the side of the freeway at 2 am. The skater was only too happy to not have to ride his short board next to cars flying by him at 80 mph. The girl was scared of me and refused my help.

"I can get you to Enumclaw!" I yelled out my window as a I slowed to match his barely-walking pace. He threw up his hands in disbelief and shouted his thanks when I pulled over in front of him. He was beside himself with excitement and it took him three tries before he finally managed to successfully throw his pack through the back door and onto the backseat. I couldn't help but chuckle as he leapt into the passenger side and found himself tangled in my automatic seatbelt. His left boot found it's way to crush the pages of the Bible on my car floor and I smiled knowing that Jesus didn't mind. He'd been backpacking -- hiking for five days in the mountains and had made it to 7900 feet. He was so excited about the rolls of film in his pack -- he had caught the orange glow of sunset on mt. rainier last night -- along with Galen's beautiful cloud formation.

"I'm tired, man. I'm tired. I stink bad, huh? Most rest I've had is two hours sleep at a time...You know going that long without sleep -- that's kind of a high by itself. My mistake was stopping in...last nite. I had 9 beers coming down the trail yesterday, you know how that goes. You're young, huh? You look like a big partyer, huh? The colors, man! You just have to go up these mountains and see the colors. Every hue from this glaring sunlight we have here to orange and purple -- i can't even explain it, man. Wow. That's another high. A natural high. Take it from me, friend, well -- all us hikers will tell you the same thing -- you have to get out there for yourself. See these things for yourself. Yeah, I'm crazy. And I'm tired. High too."

For fifteen minutes we chatted happily about my size (he noticed with interest the small stretch marks on my "large" arms), clear-cut logging, and how much weed he had just smoked. I dropped him off in front of a quiet set of apartments and wished him a blessing, so happy to have known him if just for a quarter of an hour. We shook hands and exchanged names -- I don't remember his. He shouldered his pack and watched me drive away -- nice guy that.

I hope I can see that mountain too -- in as many colors when it seems so big, so close that I am part of it. Falling into its tangelo glaciers and hurtling toward its rose purple peak.

I think there might be more freedom on a motorcycle. I envision a cleansing wind slapping my face and forcefully pushing away every question and fear, every worry and wasted tear. Either the throaty rumble of an American Vtwin or the killer bee scream of a crotch rocket to serenade my escape. I wouldn't wait for red lights, just keep my wrist into the throttle -- already seeing the curves ahead. There would be nothing but a thin, split-second worth of air seperating me from 3,000lb of steel or waiting, black asphalt as I fly above and beside them. Pavement that reaches up to grab me and bring me to my end, but a little more pressure from my right hand and I am already gone.

Already gone.

I'm writing a poem about suicide -- suicide -- suicide. I'm not doing it, don't want to and by God's grace never will. But I was thinking about it today. I want to say that a lot of things are trivial. They don't matter - they're unimportant. There's other things to think about. To stress about. To be angry over. But at the same time I can't deny I'm at fault. I hurt people too. I disappoint people too. I let them down, turn them around, and hope it will all be okay. Noone ever means to hurt anyone -- well, that's not true but it's nice to say and hear. So, I'd like to justify myself and be angry at them in return but I can't.

I'm going to see someone today who I don't want to see. I don't like him, want to hate him, and hoped to never see his face again. He never did anything to me. He never hurt me. But he did many things and hurt someone I love. So he did all those things to me.

Today I'll forgive and ask forgiveness and start tomorrow anew. Tonight I'll pray to be free of this rage that builds beneath my ribs. Please be in peace, from the bottom of my heart I hope, wish, and pray that everyone in the world and especially you do not share a spot with me on this rotting bridge -- but that you rest in quiet peace.

Dear Africa,

I'm writing to congratulate you on the fabulous success of your story depicted in the full feature film Hotel Rwanda. It had all the elements that make a smash-hit from the start with suspense, action, tear-jerking emotion to the nines, a moving cast -- just a great movie. It even managed to cause a bit of a stir for a month or so stateside as people began to wonder what our country is doing to help, what the real condition of African nations is, etc. That is, until oil prices topped $50 a barrel and we moved on to more pressing matters that affect us directly.

Of course, America is the most generous state on earth and collectively our governments gives billions of dollars to your nations in the hope that it will trickle down to the people who need it. Our charities are huge and active in your countries. We hope you understand that these things go on in the background of our psyche -- it's much too guilt-inducing and heavy to be spoken about in public. Besides, the situation seems to be under control. President Bush was on tv just yesterday saying that America already gives enough money, that significantly more aid is really going over the top and most of it ends up in the laps of corrupt governments anyway. Besides, if there was a real crisis it would be on the evening news. Seriously, if 3.6 million people were starving in Niger alone or 166,000 children died every year from preventable diseases in that country* -- it would at least make the front page of the newspaper. Heck, it would probably be there everyday considering the sheer numbers of human suffering. They would urge us to action, to volunteer, to give more to private charities. Millions of people dieing of disease, starvation, or ethnic cleansing and civil war? If that were really happening, to real people, in a real place we would spare no expense to help those people. I think we can all rest easy -- pretty sure that our tax dollars are enough to help you out, as I'm sure you agree.

Anyway, stay in touch. We might contact you again in a few years to see if any of the over 15 million people who have died of AIDS** have any good stories we can make a movie about. O, and if you could please call off all these noisy protestors who keep claiming you can't take care of yourself. They're ruining our economic summits and making a scene.

Best Wishes,

The Free World

*Stat: World Vision

**Stat: lifeissues.net

Steve comes home tonite. Hooray, this makes me happy. Now we'll have three weeks of me driving him around, bent on his every whim in every spare moment of my time when I'm not working. Happy. Oo, and he can play guitar and piano and show me how much better he is at them. Yea. And then he can beat me at hearts, cribbage, five card poker, texas hold 'em, running, jumping, hiking, camping, basketball, bowling, golf, speed, swimming, scum, halo, halo2, and knowing what elements chrome is made out of. Sweeeet.

Somehow, steve, it has never bothered me that you're better then me at...at...ahem, EVERYTHING. This is gonna be a killer three weeks. :)

(if you look closely, that is drool pooling on the carpet below stevo's lip)

Happy Birthday, America

July 4, 1776-July 4, 2005.

229 years of independence, freedom and the promise of a fair chance to anyone that they could become anything they wished, if only they worked hard. We're not perfect, we have some ugly things in our history that we have owned up to and are pressing forward to overcome. Whether we agree or disagree with the direction of our country, the most beautiful thing is just that - the ability to applaud or dissent. So lets be thankful and celebrate the courage and sacrifice of a few men from thirteen colonies whose decisions to declare their independence would create the most powerful, most advanced civilization in the history of the world.

(Adopted by Congress on July 4, 1776)

The Unanimous Declaration of the Thirteen United States of America

When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bonds which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security. --Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former systems of government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute tyranny over these states. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world.

...
We, therefore, the representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name, and by the authority of the good people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare, that these united colonies are, and of right ought to be free and independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the state of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as free and independent states, they have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things which independent states may of right do. And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.

New Hampshire: Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple, Matthew Thornton
Massachusetts: John Hancock, Samual Adams, John Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge Gerry
Rhode Island: Stephen Hopkins, William Ellery
Connecticut: Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott
New York: William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris
New Jersey: Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham Clark
Pennsylvania: Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George Ross
Delaware: Caesar Rodney, George Read, Thomas McKean
Maryland: Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll of Carrollton
Virginia: George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter Braxton
North Carolina: William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn
South Carolina: Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton
Georgia: Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton

Addict

"Hey, mister, there's no smoking in here!" The young busboy shouted, pointing at a sign that featured a cigarette with a line drawn through it.

The long, thick man in an unbuttoned overcoat with upturned collars snorted in response. He slowly tapped the filter of his as yet unlit smoke while he regarded its features. Broncos. Broncos... So utterly American. They probably pictured some rugged, muscled, handsome man with 3 days of unshaven growth on a face overshadowed by a Stetson cowboy hat. If you smoke Broncos -- you'll be a cowboy. Nevermind that most of the cattle in this country was pumped out like cars from an assembly line and the only bronco 98% of the nation had ever seen was at a rodeo. And whatever fat cats produced those were probably publically anti-smoking...Such an unpopular thing these days.

Sending an arrogant look in the busboy's direction, the man in the overcoat lifted the rolled tobacco to his lips and held it there loosely for a moment. An overweight man with a fake Rolex looked up from his greasy plate of eggs and took in the scene with growing interest.

Using his left hand, the man pulled his hunter green derby tighter over his eyes, and with his right searched for the book of matches always in residence in his back pocket. He struck a match and the fat man gasped above the hiss of burning sulfer and clutched the edges of the bar. Just as he lifted the match to the waiting Bronco, a new patron opened a door and the kick of wind snuffed out the match.

Annoyed, the man in the overcoat glared at the new guy for a second before turning his attention back to the cylinder of Americana dangling from his lips. The busboy looked at him again and shrugged before scampering into the kitchen. The second match fell to the ground with his sloppy strike. Finally, he held his third match in slightly trembling fingers and touched the small flame to the edge of the white paper. A crackle followed by a hiss and a small thread of white smoke snaked its way to the ceiling. Pulling deeply, the man tried to let himself drift into what images the feel, taste, and the draw of the Bronco would bring. To his disappointment, instead of cowboys and the Old West and John Wayne, it left only a legacy of burning brush and rotting driftwood. He looked up to see a man in a blue jacket with a polished, gold nameplate that said: Manager.
"I'm sorry, sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."