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justanotherearthenvessel
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Name: John
Country: United States
State: Washington
Gender: Male
Interests: Thought, lawn chairs, cloves, little boots, sun chips, nerdness, writing, counseling, reading, hoping, enjoying.
Expertise: "As if." *hair flip*
Occupation: Case Manager, Trucker, Father
Industry: Non-Profit... and other jobs t
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  thatfrodoguy
MSN: littlemail@juno.com
Member Since:
3/15/2003
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inadequate ex
pression
winterfied im
pressions
when i walk into a daylight audience
and see only misinterpreted prevalence
i call carnally to my internally to find some sense of sentience
isn't it, you, isn't it eternally synchronot to be defied by an earthonaut
what is the strife for then, if not to communicate?
what is the fight for then, if not to commensurate?
what is this final fling of flesh and flooding feelings if not for naught?
it is for something. i say. it is for someone. it is for silence and song and
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| Youth, Age, Her and the End.
Hear the angels screaming
Lips as red as rage
Hips sway like the breeze in the fields of hay
Golden spreads of seed that consumed my youth
As growth goes cold and
feelings become memories
and friendships become agonies
there's a simplicity in the metropolitan area of my experience
She smells sweet like angels
She smiles with lips red like rage
Her hips sway and make me young
In her my village becomes an empire
If the wife of my youth is the one
the one angel who comes down in the light
the tunnel of white that guides me away
Then I'll be fine,
but if the angels scream with red lips,
Hide me in the hay, let it rustle about me as I lay still.
If they smell salty like strangers,
Hide me in her hair, press my face into the soft of her neck.
If in the end all goes cold, and my eyes see the dark and I am alone...
Then tell her I drank caffeine and sugar at midnight with work in the morning...
...she'll find me, with lips red like rage.
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| I'm a lucky man, that Xanga would put the new weblog button so fragrantly before me having changed everything else.
I need to find my passion, my focus, my faith. It is not enough to want to want perfection, achieving it is a sheer act of will coalesced with innumerable hours of effort and a spritz of natural talent. But it's this will that I do not want to force, not because of a higher ground but because of a lack of such a thing to stand on. And not because of the nature of my work, or the nature of Christ or of my salvation, but because of sin. I don't want to believe He can care for me when I suffer. That He is the carpenter when my wood boat takes on water. That even should that boat flounder, He is the master of the winds and the waves and to walk on water is but a sheer act of will. Even water is ground to stand on when one walks with God.
It doesn't help that I've been reading Piper's 'Desiring God' by staring at the cover, a chapter or two in at best. What does it mean to Desire to glorify God and be glorified, reveled in by Him amidst all that I do? I was tempted to watch 'Passion of the Christ' just to get a hint of what it takes to truly want God's Glory in all things. Even wonderful things, even mundane things, especially awful things. This is my final step in this venture to begin this new adventure, to find my faith, my focus, my pride in God and what He is doing through me. To be elated, excited and joyful at every success and determined and responsible at every failure. I want God so much, but do I always want to be near to God... to know that He knows my shortcomings and foolishness... to know that He cares anyway, Loves anyway, creates and shapes and perfects and positions anyway. Do I have faith that He holds safely that which He has promised me? Am I investing in a sham or a Savior?
I'm not even curious about those questions, for as my wife so eloquently equated, I'm not curious about things I know. I'm happy, in God.
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| So after the 'incident' with the forklift and my old phone of many years...
After the showing, warehouse hockey game and funeral I've decided to move on...
...I'll admit, it was a little quick, I had to hide my old phone chargers and switch my voicemail message just in time to bring -her- out of the box. But I'm sure my old phone wouldn't mind... I mean, it would've wanted me to be able to answer brad's messages, listen to music, use a little thumb keyboard and... and shit, man, it has a stylus. Old phone, you never had a stylus, did you? And when I asked you to play my Meisce (which i uploaded onto my 'audioblog') song you just rolled over and said you had a headache...
You drove me to this, away from your cold shattered LCD screen into those pole dancers' 2nd Amendment embrace...
john
p.s. my little boy can hear my voice now! admittedly slightly muffled by a uterus.
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| ...tom swogger who introduced me vicariously through xanga to emery.
...jesus
...sam storm for being an author of high repute and having a super hero name.
john
and just in case you wonder, yes, yes indeed there are things in my life that hurt and get me down like the sugar level of a bulimic diabetic. i choose -you- empathetic agony! *opens poke ball to find a suffocated rodent*... i suppose I could've aired you out earlier.
but yes, a special suffering and sadness goes out to...
...divorcees
...people with chronic illnesses
...single folk who are only single for the sake of their own ignorance of true quality styled hedonism. holy hedonism that is.
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