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A dinosaur just walked into my room and wanted to sign on his AIM screen name
I said Heck No you tyrannosaurus Rex, you get your own freaking PC
Then he told me
this
really
sad story.
So I let him use it. 

indie was a brachiosaurus

today
i want to speed travel
on a brachiosaurus -
to an indie city's art district
and play chess
with a homeless man
who tells me of his fortune 500
business,
and how i should invest in stocks.

spontaneous decisions

this is the face my mother is going to give me when she see's my most recent addition 

[nose piercing]

biblical femininity + you

a friend sent me this email, i thought i would share.
+++++

ive actually been thinking about our definitions and perceptions of femininity alot.
I went to an orphanage yesterday run by a woman, Tammy. Something about it seemed peculiar to have her leading and raising these kids by herself. I mean there were interns and other adults, but she basically served as dad and mom and pastor, visionary and the complete gusto behind the entire operation from the very beginning. She is in charge of their spiritual needs, their discipline. Shes basically a single mom for 46 kids, ranging in age from 20 to 2. I dunno. It was incredible to see the Lord at work here. At first I was just feeling out the place and getting a gist of what goes on, and i felt weird but i didn't know what it was. And then it hit me that she didnt fit a mold of "biblical femininity."  And I wondered if she would have been encouraged and supported by our christian reformed culture. I dunno. Still trying to process all of what i saw and experienced yesterday. I see your concerns very clearly: what about missional living, what about loving the poor. Is God just as pleased with 80 dollars on a haircut "serving your husband" or toward feeding and clothing children in uganda.

Well? Whats the deal here? Whats actually more biblically feminine? This butch, seminary graduate, single lady running an orphanage? Or a quiet housewife wearing Ralph Lauren who's sacrifice is nonreturnable modest clothing? Both?

+++++

what do you think?

in a similar challenge, check out this francis chan message.

eighty-six + sparks are flying

yesterday i went running around my neighborhood.
five point seven miles. yes, it surprised me too.
around the four mile mark, i saw a sweet elderly couple
holding hands, it was so sweet.
while passing, i told them these thoughts.
he said, "i've got to... so she doesn't get away from me!"
i told them that was a gift, and that it is rare.
on my home way past them again,
the sweet lady said,
with child-like enthusiasm,
"i hope you have someone to hold hands with..!"

what beauty.

photo courtesy of sigur ros - hoppipolla

last night:: initiation into secret societies

well, i can't tell you, can i?

alphabeat

thanks to my good friend evan,
who is currently an internationally adventuring,
i have grown aware + full of adoration for a danish pop band named
alphabeat.

czech it out.

i am a child again

this german photographer + shop artist brings 
out childlike dreams
that wander aimlessly lost in grown up minds
probably camping out 
somewhere 
between the aisle of 
deadlines and to do lists.

it is a beautiful day

in the oa office, we have huge windows.

it makes me appreciate art + beauty + design.

i love it because it reminds me of the sweet outdoors,
dreams i've dreamt,
the unlimitability* of creativity,
and therefore the unlimited goodness of God.

thank you, Jesus, for the sun.

(*and for the unlimited creativity to create the word unlimitability)

kip + the gnarly whals

this week in short. kip showed us some explosive magnesium, which is a story to be continued. took a couple shots for the gnarly whals monday night. we also saw mobley, touring from somepaso, texas.

Wicker Park Final Scene

To Live in the Mercy of God

To Live in the Mercy of God

BY DENISE LEVERTOV

To lie back under the tallest

oldest trees. How far the stems

rise, rise

before ribs of shelter

open!

To live in the mercy of God. The complete

sentence too adequate, has no give.

Awe, not comfort. Stone, elbows of

stony wood beneath lenient

moss bed.

And awe suddenly

passing beyond itself. Becomes

a form of comfort.

Becomes the steady

air you glide on, arms

stretched like the wings of flying foxes.

To hear the multiple silence

of trees, the rainy

forest depths of their listening.

To float, upheld,

as salt water

would hold you,

once you dared.

.

To live in the mercy of God.

To feel vibrate the enraptured

waterfall flinging itself

unabating down and down

to clenched fists of rock.

Swiftness of plunge,

hour after year after century,

O or Ah

uninterrupted, voice

many-stranded.

To breathe

spray. The smoke of it.

Arcs

of steelwhite foam, glissades

of fugitive jade barely perceptible. Such passion—

rage or joy?

Thus, not mild, not temperate,

God’s love for the world. Vast

flood of mercy

flung on resistance.