Ain't NOTHING easy about Sunday morning...

Thursday, November 18, 2004


I'm in Seguin for a week.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

My Place

Where do dreams and fantasies come from?
Who ever heard of feeling guilty for a dream?
I have. I've awoken with guilt.
Not for the obvious reasons, but even for things I've said or felt in a dream.
Even now, I can remember a dream I had when I was much younger (11 maybe).
And I'm downright ashamed of my behavior.
Can you tell that imaginations are starting to intrigue me?
The Bible even talks about the power of imagination...
Imaginations are double edged....
We're supposed to 'cast down' the thoughts and imaginations that 'set themselves up' against 'the knowledge of God.'
How strange. So there is such a thing as a dangerous fantasy.
How can a thought defy the knowledge of God?
Maybe a thought can defy the knowledge God has given me.
A fantasy in which I believe that things can fulfil me, stands in oposition to God's truth that he alone sustains and satisfies.
As you can see, I'm pieceing this together right before your eyes.
I have to think about it some more...
I've begun to focus on the power of the unseen...
Prayers and dreams in particular.
These everyday happenings are tossed of as trivial.
We say "All we can do now is PRAY"
As if prayer is a trifle thing that the defeated do.
We say "It was JUST a dream" As if we are completely sure that our dream world is less grave than our waking world.
Who am I in dreams? If I am not the same in dreams that I am when I walk, then who am I?
Follow the trail...see what this implies?
Who are we? Which of our manifold selves weighs more? What is weight?
Where's the common denominator?
God is always there, even in my dreams.
And iniquity is always there.
Redemption and "sorry" is always there.
The Rise is there.
The Rise is the heroic catharsis. I always experience this in my dreams.
It's the "There, there, here's Grace" to follow my "God, damn it all because I suck."
don't tell the band

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

I gotta Jones...

I just got my new audiobook.
It's an advanced copy of "Their Eyes Were Watching God" narrated by Ruby Friggin Dee!
Up high! Down Low! Blackhand side!
I'm so on the bandwagon. It just makes too much sense. I'm still waiting for Pilgrim's Progress to come.
Unabridged, of course....
I have also recently ingested the entire Chronicles of Narnia in the most charming and magical audio-dramatic form I've ever heard. I have to give Focus on The Family props for their radio dramas...Take it from me, it really is cinema-quality voice talent and sound design. I felt like I was there. It was only abridged for formatting, but not content. (Many of the "he said, she saids" were taken out of extended discourses where the characters were well established by voice.)
I think I'll leave my endorsements of Dr. Dobson at that...we'll take them at a case by case basis.

Including my audiobooks, I think I'm doing a simul-read of like a dozen books. It's glorious. And it's strange. I can feel the Scriptures in these other works. All creation does indeed bear Him witness.

In other news I DP'd last week on Young's Christian/Kung Fu/Fantasy flick. It was the first time I ever operated a steadicam, and also the first time I used my Sennheiser ME66 microphone for a dramatic application. I was incredibly pleased with it.

Check out these ROUGH CUTS:

Chase Scene with Steadicam

Dialogue Scene with my mic

What else??
Oh! A one-time good homie of mine just started blogging.

Introducing Khristi L. Adams!!

She kind of splattered her brain all over her blog. I like that. We'll see if she makes "The In-Crowd" anytime soon.
Check her out.

Time to write.

P.S. My lips are SO chapped. Reminds me when Natanya pointed out that she knew I wasn't "getting any" because of how ashy my legs were. Tricky, tricky women...tsk

Sunday, November 14, 2004

Underground Man

Last night I watched a very disturbing film rendition of Dostoevsky's 'Notes from Underground'.
It made me dream that I had given up my virginity nonchalantly, and then deeply regretted it later.
It's been a few years since I cried in a dream. Last night I cried in a dream. I was lying on the grass, and out of nowhere, I was gripped with this fear. I couldn't remember if I had slept with a certain woman. As hard as I racked my brains, I couldn't get any further than the memory that I had indeed wanted to sleep with her...and since I couldn't remember if I had or hadn't, it meant that I was a beast like the Underground Man...If I had slept with her, shouldn't I have remembered? And shouldn't I also have remembered not sleeping with her? But what if I had? It would necessarily mean that sleeping with her wasn't as remarkable or memorable as I hoped that it would be. And I was very miserable. It's all in the implications.
Anyhow, the film struck a chord. One scene was str8 out of my life. Eerily so. I wanted so badly to attach myself to the Underground Man (he has no other name), but he wasn't exactly like me. There were some flaws that he had that I don't...and they were significant. In fact, I suppose I share all of his desires. Perhaps that's the overlayer...I want love like he wants it, and I want companionship and understanding and friendship, but not quite as obsessively. I'm not cute with it...I won't pretend that I hate you when I love you. I think I'm missing the pride. I'm proud sometimes...(and who can ever get away with saying this) but I'm not always proud...and the pride I see in others boggles my mind.
Pride is a bitch...a cranky evil dog of a soul who cannot be content with forgiveness...and I'm too desperate for it.