Of These Things I Repent

"Oh I am wrong, and of these things I repent"
Derek Webb

Everytime I listen to Derek Webb's "The House Show" it sets me straight. If just for a few minutes, I feel like I understand a couple of things - any other time and I'm wandering around in the dark. I agree with and wish alongside Webb to have my sins broadcast on the 5 o'clock news - what would we, as followers of Christ, do if every other person on Earth knew our most terrible and shameful sins? We would have absolutely nowhere to turn but to Christ - God, sometimes I wish I could be turned inside out for all to see. I'll try with a few things.

I spend too much money on thrift/vintage clothing and then ask my Dad to loan me money till my next paycheck.

I cuss too much (I said GD the other day, I believe for the first time in my life - I felt like a stranger to myself.)

I gossip.

I am a proficient hypocrite. I define the word.

If someone doesn't like me, I feel like less of a man.

I still think my plan is the right one.

I will probably laugh at a dirty joke today.

I am selfish.

I feel like if I were to call myself a follower of Christ, I would be giving myself too much credit. I'm more of a little kid who tags along and gets easily distracted, always having to run to catch up. I guess the important thing is that I know without a doubt who the leader is.

A Recipe

newyorkscram's Recipe for Fun:

Ingredients:
5 Games of Magic: The Gathering
Air of a New York night
2 Pieces of Chocolate Cake
2 Marlboro 27s
1 Zippo
Law and Order

Steps:
1. Bring the air of a New York night close to a boil
2. Play 5 games of Magic: The Gathering with Hunter while watching Law and Order
3. Blindfold Hunter
4. Prepare 2 pieces of Chocolate Cake on fancy plate
5. Light Marlboro 27s with Zippo
6. Insert lit Cigarettes into cake, birthday candle style
7. Sing Happy Birthday to Hunter (whilst he removes blindfold)
8. Lick frosting off Cigarettes
9. Smoke Cigarettes while eating Chocolate Cake
10. Die

Enjoy!

Soundtracks

It's time for a typical "here's what's going on" post. Enjoy.

A lot has happened in the past day or so. Yesterday I had my first interview with Buffalo Exchange, a resale shop much like Cheap Thrills in Fayetteville. Immediately following that, I had an interview with the Patagonia store in Soho, about six minutes after which they offered me a job - $12.50 an hour is not too shabby, in fact, it's ridiculous. Unfortunately, however, it's a weekend/as needed gig.

But anyway, after all that I met up with Rachel on the corner of 4th and something else - got pizza, ate pizza, liked pizza - that kind of thing. So then we headed down to the Financial District to catch the free Books show, which found us arriving after all the tickets had been given out. Bigtime bummer.

But the Brooklyn Bridge beckoned us, as it was Rachel's last night in town, so she called the shots and off we went - lights and water and wind and horns - beautiful.

Afterward we headed to Avenue A with plans to visit the Life Cafe, however these plans were quickly discarded when word from Will informed us that Natalie Portman was indeed at a nearby bar where he and Shivani were hanging out.

So to Natalie we went.

And yes, she is that beautiful in real life.

So Rachel and I are at the Magician with Will and Shivani, you know, shmoozing and the like when we notice another celebrity: Justin Long drinking a Stella Artois.

After Justin left, his beer sitting lonesome on the table, Rachel and I did the only logical thing when a celebrity leaves a half-dead soldier just lying around: we grabbed it and each took a swig. So there, I drank after the Dodgeball guy.

Also - Rachel said "Hey Nat" to Queen Amidala and I went out of my way to bump into her - rude, but worth it... I guess.

At this point it was getting late - I had an actual job to get to at 9AM this morning and Rachel had to leave Brooklyn for her flight at 7AM, so off to the F-train we went.

Unfortunately, we were going opposite ways - Rachel, Will, and Shivani downtown to Brooklyn and myself uptown to Brooklyn. I said goodbye to Will and Shivani and gave Rachel a hug, needless to say I was sad knowing it'd be months before we'd be able to hang out again. So we found ourselves on opposite sides of the tracks - in every way it was a very bittersweet ending scene to our movie - I'm thinking possibly a Tom Waits song would be soundtracking the bit, played of course by a street musician on the stale subway platform and echoing through the tunnels.

And as we waved our goodbyes, our respective trains approaching, I realized she was leaving and for me, this was not a trip. This was the beginning of my summer in New York - Rachel leaving, beginning a new job, actually worrying about my miniscule portion of the rent being due soon, thinking about friends and family back home and how much I already miss them.

The trains soon roared in and Rachel, Will, and Shivani disappeared as I stepped onto the train alone to make my way back to Brooklyn. I sat down in the corner, leaned my head against the window and felt the immediate weight of loneliness being draped over my spirit. The train lurched forward and carried me into the New York night.

I am listening to hear where you are.

How does something great begin? Is it wrong to want to create something beautiful in the eyes of others, or is the real goal to simply never stop creating and eventually something will shine?

Jeff Mangum - Neutral Milk Hotel - what fueled that strangely fantastic Aeroplane Over the Sea?

Maybe it comes from the busyness of New York City or the solitude of Walden Pond -

Extremes!

People seem to love unimaginable extremes that either quiet the heart so tenderly to a soft whisper or blow it up to reverberate so brilliantly and loudly in the soul.

My hands and heart and head are dying to put something down that mattered, matters, will matter - anything.

Anything true! Devoid of Bullshit!

I am a hypocrite, I am selfish and lazy, but I am a human who must overcome these things just like any other - and screw those who say "be careful how you use the word 'love'" -

I LOVE.

I want people to know God's deep, ridiculous, weird, incredible desire to listen to our lives, speak to our hearts, be involved with you and I in the wildest adventure of the heart and soul and all of the other things that sound beautiful and deep and holy.

I want so badly to leave something behind not so Samuel Slaton would be rememberd, but so people would be inspired to live GREATLY!

Thank You -
Bob Dylan
Jeff Mangum
Paul McCartney
Bill McShane
Jack Kerouac
Ray LaMontagne
J.R.R. Tolkien
The Little Toaster
Girl Who Gave Me Her #
Jeff Buckley
Kid Who Smiled
Couple Holding Hands
Inventor of Bazooka Joe Gum
John Coltrane
Neal Cassidy
Jerry Garcia
My Parents
Einstein (dog)
Honeysuckle
TRAINS
Sun(set)(rise)(shine)
First Kisses!
Cool t-shirts
Whatever the Hell Makes You Want TO LIVE GREATLY!

Be enormous - beyond yourself - send a whispered prayer to the stars,
scream at the horizon - run naked and thank God for the wind.

We were not meant to live in Suburbs and fake small talk and dance around insecurities.

Derek Webb - I'm in. Broadcast my life to the whole world - Lord, show my sins and all the shit you've rescued me from. Give sweet dreams to the homeless, let me smile unrestrained at every beautiful person you created - Lord, spend time with me - give me an outlet, open the floodgates. Let me never find it acceptable to live without passion. Let me ignore the cries of my heart to change so others will like me.

Scream! Show excitement and wonder and pity and care - CRY when you see something beautiful.

Be strange
Ridiculous
Incredible
Entirely true
ALIVE!
In-tune
Ready to ListenlistenlistenHEAR
Speak sans words
Hold her tightly
Hold him near

WALK ON WATER TOWARDS AND FOR: LOVE.
Trust God to create and calm the storms at the perfectly right time.

Drink wine and read poetry with other men.
Find beauty in "authentic manhood"
Respect women -
Do everything the
way God created the
heart to do it.

I am on your side and
SO
ALIVE.
RyanAdams.

I am a badass because God loves me.

Thank you Peter Marsh.

After a New York Sunset

I'm beyond exhausted - traveling, job-hunting, and smoking will do strange things to a body.

I just watched the sun set from the roof of Hunter's apartment, which I will be living in for the next three months. Despite bruised shoulders from lugging my duffle bag across the City yesterday and weary feet from searching to and fro for a job, the pinks and oranges and grayish blues of the setting sun behind the Manhattan skyline blew my heart to pieces in every direction and I couldn't stop moving.

I guess I just realized that this is now my home.

I'm wondering how to begin making friends, but it seems one can never plan things like that - I guess friends will have to start making me or I'll be doing a lot of reading this summer. Not that I don't like reading, it's just that I'd rather laugh.

I'm sleeping on the floor next to Hunter's bed for the summer and this morning he dropped his cell phone on my face while I slept. Despite the early hour, I laughed just thinking about such close quarters.

During my search for a job today I found myself on the Metro quite a bit, mostly going in the wrong direction or just wandering around the station trying to establish my whereabouts. I did, however, manage to have my wait for one particular train serenaded by a baritone saxophonist, blowing the weariest notes of blue and gray I've ever heard. It was especially romantic in the dreary New York City sense as his back up band was the roar of the subway, a thousand different languages, and up-tempo footsteps going God knows where.

Faith and Giggles and Love and Burps

When did real become forgotten?

Twelve?

Thirteen?

Teenage years and lies, flirts, secrets, and glances.

A baby can't help but cry and desire love. Reaching up up up when she's fallen to the floor. A scream to mean hungry, a hand on a finger to say just come with me, a covering of eyes to mean you're embarrasing me, a soft, loose kiss to mean you're the world to me.

Faith and giggles and love and burps.

We feign conversation to avoid confrontation - headphones and cellphones and big, dark sunglasses. The shuffling of awkward feet and hands - we hide when clouds pour down rain on our outfits - when did we forget that we all need a washing?

Drenched so we all feel a little bit silly.

First steps and teeth and words so tender.

He's reminding me softly to just be His child - reach up when I've fallen, babble at His feet, cry out when I'm hungry, and let the rain soak in.

El Lugar Verdadero

The empty apartment discovered
Beneath the life of college students on California,
Furnished with empty tables, refrigerators, and mattresses.
A spent bottle of wine,
Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises,
A broken bottle for an ashtray -
The only signs of life and dreams.

We speak of mountains,
1940's nights in the jazz clubs of NYC,
Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty sit on this couch,
God and two souls discussing the
Passions formed on these deep nights.
Our young souls filling these empty bottles,
The light of our hearts burning
Thru cigarettes as smoke curls from our mouths -
Talk of captivating women worth fighting for,
Of lips and rivers and eyes and sunsets.

Dylan, Kerouac, Adams and Eves, and Christ -
Rebels, writers, firsts and revolutionaries -
Hearts digging life with wine, words, and women,
In an empty apartment with a brother
Writing the deepest lyrics of life.

Kerouac, Cigarettes, Steak and Stars

We woke up on the mattress, Peter and I, to a cool morning of half-smoked cigarettes, flat beer and the smell of grass warmed quickly by the sunrise.

The previous night hosted cheers in the unrented apartment - broken into through a window and left unlocked for wandering tired nights like these - the moon brilliantly shimmering light on dreams and dreams and dreams.

Kerouac and Marlboro, Pabst and Dostoevsky - they spoke to us through a hitchhiker's thumb, smoke threading the air, a drink shared with friends, cold Russian nights - things distant to the eye, yet close - so, so close to the heart and the spirit that sends that breath of life into your soul on nights when the world seems dim.

A broken bottle becomes our ashtray - smoke 'em if ya got 'em.

Ah, it was a fine night, a warm night, a wine-drinking night, a moony night, and a night to hug your girl and talk and spit and be heavengoing. This we did.

Washing Into the City

City lights were cast before us, leaping into hearts and shining dim on lovers dreaming aside one another -

Riding a wave of asphalt - washing into the city, so alive - cigarette sparks flashing the ground with a burst of embers - a glow on the horizon lets me know the morning is here -

I am on your side and so alive

Raging guitars, rythmic drums, a voice soaring over whatever used to hold it back - conquering weary eyes, hungry stomachs, souls lifted up in the glory of dreams being lived out by those brave enough to take chances

I am so alive

I am above the city lights - a racing heart tumbling into these arms of God and freedom and a melody deeper than Christianity or spirituality - lifted up by a Father into a light beyond what any eye has seen to hear music that is only heard by the deepest parts of the human heart

riding waves of earth into city lights with cigarettes, driving guitars, souls aflame and ready to burn into the night.

Exploding Blanks

Blank spaces are great.

"Killing the potentiality certainly kills the actuality." Aristotle

When blank spaces cease to be, all other things then must also cease to be. So be grateful for the occasional spells of loneliness, restless in bed, long solo drives home, etc - inspiration fills those times if you just get over the thought that it's gonna last forever - it's temporary, enjoy it, let yourself see those times as blessings.

-----

I awoke to whiteness surrounding our home on the road.

John was on his way to Grand Junction, coming from OK City after burying his ex-wife - her heart had exploded after years of drug abuse.

We ate week-old rolls, day-old barbecue, and smoked a cigarette for breakfast in the back of my $27,000 truck.

I am nineteen with a $27,000 vehicle and John is hitchhiking his way back from a hole in the ground holding a woman he loved.

Walter must be in his 40s, heading to Illinois next week to see someone in critical condition - he once loved a woman in Jonesboro who ditched him for a quarterback. He works in a coffee shop and gives us directions to thrift stores around town.

Luby gives us rolls, tuna, etc (meant for the homeless) and antique Bibles - thank yous and thank yous and thank yous and such, and we walk back to my $27,000 truck to feel grateful.

Blessed, greedy? Both? One can surely be greedy for blessings, these are not mutually exclusive - where am I in those words?

I am somewhere.

Grass On Its Knees

After the housewarming party that warmed my heart as much as it did the space we occupied, a field took my truck out into it's arms and blanketed light on the cool fog of three AM.

You are my sweetest downfall

I drove there with Madame of India on my tongue and Yellow Tail on my breath - wet grass and dim lights found me sitting on the warm hood while a piano and a lone voice soundtracked the night - steeped with the warm air after a rain like a widow brewing tea. Remembering loves and loves and loves.

I rolled my pantlegs up while walking towards the light, half-expecting to see Jesus step out of the fractured orange angling towards the subtley shifting ground. Soft and wet with rain and mud, grass on its knees thanking God for quiet nights in the company of water and music and moonlight and housewarmings.

Not a car passed - it seems the temperature never changed - my soul warm enough to heat whatever heart would be held - but all I found was my own and my pounding chest wishing I could simply be physically held by God in this moment, but knowing that all around me were His arms holding me near - to the music, the moonlight, the water and wine.

Deep green grass bent to its knees thanking God - thanking God with reverence - thanking God for the breath of the world - cool breezes and children playing - an orange light giving shape to the fog that once seemed so vague, but now gives form to my shadow as I wait for Jesus,

knowing He is within, without, all around, and lifting the grass up from it's lowered posture to look into His eyes and know that they are loved.

Heat and Noise and Destinations

"Oh, God, it hurts so bad to love anybody down here..." Waterdeep

I have no idea what love is - I don't know if I'm just immature, young, or blinded by ideals - but I do know I don't get it.

I know what I think love should be, what I want love to look like, what I hope love is - but - I feel ridiculous even writing about "love" - it's like writing a paper in Spanish about quantum theory. I don't know what words to use, and even if I did, I don't know what I'd be writing about.

My chest has that earnest thumping in it like something important is trying to be said, but I have no idea what it is or what it means. I just tell it that a cigarette will help, but all it does is exposes me to the rain and cold and smoke and ash.

I should feel blessed to have that deep rumbling of wanting to love - there are people out there whose hearts are too cold to love anyone - I guess I should at least be glad that I have the desire to love and be loved - to know a person and be known.

I'm 19 - what am I talking about? I'm just trying to sound mature and wise beyond my years. I don't know what I need in my life, other than to simply let God do His will.

But I like to be in control of my life, so therein lies the challenge.

It's hard for me to let things happen - I feel like if I'm not 100% in control I'll be dragged helplessly along. I need that medium.

Music is love for people like me. I get to experience everything I think love should be without the hurt, the sacrifice, the intimacy. Easy.

This is another one of those things that I don't know if I should post because I may come off as a jackass, a selfish jerk, or an "emo" kid.

Whatever - it's a homework break.

Just let it happen.

back to the basics.

carry on

"people are just people, they shouldn't make you nervous"

"so beautiful, to be here, and alive"

desire is a good thing - it seems to fuel the heart and drive the dreams.

An engine can get you places, but it's gotta put out heat and noise - burns and pounding ear drums - but it gets you there.

It gets you there.