mummies and madness

So we've been massively entertained by the absurdity of English Pravda, with its lurid reports of Yeti femme fatales seducing "Caucasian Men," the space aliens ritually sacrificing our cattle in the great Intergalactic Slaughterhouse In the Sky, and this item which would be worthy of many world leaders right now who are in the hot seat but doubtless still want immortality.

Our favorite commie tabloid with tells us that mummification is the new cryogenics, so I hope Hosni Moobie, Pooty Poot, Silvio, and Mr. Muammar, are paying attention.

stillness for now

I've been everywhere this weekend yet I finally feel less exhausted, restored by art-and-dinner-talking-past-midnight, new tuneage from the library, good hanging out at a birthday party cut short by duty calling at the radio station where I definitely kept it rocking in the free world, though I told the guy who called up and requested the Doors that he could see if Michael Stanley would play "Texas Radio and the Big Beat" for him since I had goodness by way of latter day glorious noise to get to.

playlist half recalled:

Ataxia - The Sides
Afghan Whigs - Beware
Kyuss - 50 Million Year Trip
Kylesa - Spiral Shadow
Sleater Kinney - Steep Air
Sonic Youth - Purr
The Bellrays - Stone Rain
Bad Brains - House of Suffering
Fugazi - By you
Throwing Muses - Pandora's Box
Isis - In Fiction
Hoover - Route 7
Ameseours - Faux Semblants
Les Discrets - Svpijagr & Freya
Mira - Space is my middle name
the Dead Weather - I can't hear you
Mark Lanegan & PJ Harvey - Hit the City
Mudhoney - Hate the Police
MC5 - I want you right now
The Stooges - 1970
Soundgarden - Overfloater
Jesus & Mary Chain - Snakedriver
Jawbox - green glass

It's another coffeeshop night, and even after a mug of tea and a mocha, I'm not feeling inspired enough to do anything epic even though I'm doing everything I can to get into writing mode. I did work through a few designs in an old how-to-doodle-your-own Celtic knotwork book I got from the library and scribble some poetry so it hasn't all been for nothing. Sometimes it's just good to get out.

weak-ending

Drinking Royal Tea doesn't make me nostalgic for the dacha and the Russian countryside as I come from a long line of peons who've had most big decisions in life made for them, but in a few minutes I'll be running to catch the bus home to change into my oh-so-comfy weekend garb to pick up some of the projects I've been working on, celebrate sundry birthdays and hopefully do some writing in between a fill-in Saturday night slot where I won't be playing exclusive stoner rock but will at least keep it noisy and distortion drenched, and checking up on the sick kitty.

More Alice in honor of artistic projects and absurdity.

since I didn't get my existential convos this week and am working late instead...

I find it amusing when those outside of evangelical circles like to generalize about an entire group in ways that are about as absurd as saying that Al Sharpton or Louis Farrakhan or Oprah speak for "the black community" or put-your-favorite-talking-head here speaking about their pet topic.

Immerse yourself in any subculture, whether it's musical or religious or whatever, and there are infinite permutations and variations and raging debates on what is true and good and what sucks and is totally ridiculous.

As far as serious issues go in the taboo topics of politics, sex, and religion, I am more willing to argue about religion than other things because I think that this kind of stuff actually matters in the great scheme of things as far as eternity goes, and as far as application to one's daily life in the meantime.

On the other hand, I don't really like to have these arguments because I don't believe that any of us mere mortals really get it half the time. There are certain things that I hold to, that I gauge the truth based on as far as I can tell. Any time anyone starts talking about "a new way of" this or that or anything resembling a "bright new future", I'm expecting a whole lot of bullshit platitudes coming my way.

So often we make God into our own image, assigning preferable personality traits and occasionally a skin color, political party, and language to fit the way we see the world, whether it's in a hellfire-and-brimstone-way or a Buddy Christ motivational booster kind of figure who just wants everybody to be happy and get along.

Anyways, Rob Bell has a new book coming out where he's talking about heaven and hell and not in a way that has anything to do with Dio and the inevitable evangelical subcultural debates have begun on whether or not he's keeping it real or something.

Most of you my dear readers (possibly all except for maybe one or two) may not realize that evangelicals are not all clones of Dan Quayle and Sarah Palin. Evangelical is if anything a catchall term for those who are not in mainline Protestant denoms or Eastern Orthodox or Catholic, and even then, there's occasional overlap. People take this stuff seriously and occasionally aren't friends anymore over hair-splitting doctrinal differences (I don't think that's a good thing, but more on that another time).

The book hasn't come out, so no one's read it yet, kind of like all the people who freaked out about Dogma but hadn't actually watched it. Having seen a few of Bell's videos and whatnot, I'm not a huge fan and while a lot of it sounds nice and looks pretty, it lacks a theological depth and seems to be more of an emotional and aesthetic appeal that looks deeper than it really is.

This is somewhat my issue with the whole Hipster Christianity thing because what looks all cool and edgy and relevant right now is going to look like Stryper 20 years from now if it doesn't already. And when I get mailings from these churches that talk about how they're relevant to me as a creative cynical questioning 20-something who doesn't feel like they fit in with the prevailing culture, I feel pandered to and I don't like feeling pandered to.

I don't pick who I worship with because the building looks cool or we all listen to U2 or there's candles or something. I like that they're not all earnest indie kids and that I find a commonality in God with people that I couldn't be more different from. I like that we're not all the same age and from the same walks of life and that it's scruffy and honest.

Not to sound like a bitter old record store clerk still mad that their favorite underground band got signed to a major and is played on commercial radio, but faith isn't supposed to be cool. And yet, I look at these articles and see myself there in a way that I assume is unconscious and accidental in an "oh snap" kind of way because I do love the writing of Flannery O'Connor and the music of U2 and try to give a damn in an "I want to do something good and right because it bothers the hell of out me that things are so bad" kind of way.

I understand my generation's disdain for poofy haired televangelists and the culture wars still fought by our parents, but there's just as much smug self-righteousness and keeping up appearances that becomes just as much a bubble with its own lines to tow, whether it's trendy and good intentioned causes that everyone thinks is bad (sex trafficking and genocide are generally non-controversial in this way) so that no boats are rocked and a cachet of cool is still maintained.

I get emotion and aesthetic appeal, but essence of what I believe is distilled down to "Love the Lord your God with your heart, soul, mind, and strength and love your neighbor as yourself." I suck at both of these, but this is what I try to base my life on, to know and learn and love and try not to be a jerk, which is hard, because being a jerk is so easy and sometimes way too fun to do.

And what bothers me that is that the whole "mind" aspect of this equation gets checked in at the door more often than it should, both in hardcore fundamentalist circles and just as much among the more emergent types, when dissent can lead to accusations of "well you're not really a Christian" or "you obviously hate everyone especially poor people and are totally judgmental."

I've been told I was the former, because I didn't dress right, listen to the wrong music, and cuss when I get mad, and described as the latter because I do believe in structure and creed and not in the bright and shining hope of People Who Can Change the World Because They're So Nice and Awesome and Well-Intentioned. I know that they don't know me, that only God knows me better than I know myself, and the more I live, the more I realize how much about me needs to change.

It bothers me to see so much tied to "how this makes me feel" or "this is what I want to hear" or "this is what I want to believe." I'm probably guilty of this too, because I tend to tune out the talking heads and the drivel with every fiber in my being. These conversations are not conducive to facebook walls or message boards and as with anything that can get emotional or misconstrued, I always prefer face-to-face, preferably over dinner or coffee. Even then, sometimes it still gets dramatic.

Because who of us has all the answers or can comprehend these things? It's not that we don't try but we've had a couple millenia now and there will still be thinks that will be seen through a glass darkly. I know that I'm not always consistent and usually not content to just live and let live. It bothers me that there is so much that I just don't understand, and so much more to learn, and that I can't get complacent even if I wanted to because my mind is always working and my heart is always bleeding and my soul is always yearning.

I feel like the little kid in O'Connor's short story "Temple of the Holy Ghost" who makes fun of her ditzy Catholic schoolgirl cousins, the boys in the neighborhood who are going to be Church of God ministers because "You don't have to know nothing to be one," who's asking God to help her not be so snarky, who probably could never a saint but might be an ok martyr "if they killed her quick."

incoherence

I had all good intentions of staying up late last night to get my creative juices flowing since I go late in the next day, but Slowdive left me passed out on the couch next to a cup of herbal tea. Shoegaze was my first musical foray into the realms of non-corporate radio, thanks to older and cooler friends who used to be into the goth scene and introduced me to the likes of My Bloody Valentine and other Brits who preferred making glorious noise to having charismatic stage presence.

If I ever start playing in a band again, I want to do that too.

The sun coming through the windows and the faded green of the front lawn has me restoring order to my domain, talking on the phone with my mom, plotting gardening options, what can I grow on my balcony in containers (all that southern exposure), and will the next people downstairs be bothered if I get adventurous on the side of the house or the front yard.

And despite giving myself a self-imposed deadline for art/writing pursuits, I've been an even worse slacker than my creative partners. Too much L7 and giggling at the absurdity of post-Gorbachev Pravda. At least I can write better than these people, with the heady combination of Putinista propaganda and Weekly World News-worthy items that remind me of Calvin's show and tells and book reports in the greatest comic strip of all time.

It's an "Epic in Emergencies" when people dial 911 for frivolous reasons, three giant spaceships are evidently heading for Planet Earth, while the comments are full of weirdos talking about vengeful Greek deities, the usual conspiracy theory cabals, and general strangeness.

Meanwhile on the homefront, the brave Russians are struggling against Killer Icicles, the Olympic Bear of Discord is causing all sorts of drama, Moscow lavatories are a real test for Western tourists. Not only that, but the defense industry is revealing "striking novelties," and the Kremlin considers the space program "childish."

Any chance of a revolution here anytime soon? Nyet.

I know it's a matter of time before the inspiration hits again, and it'll come, it always does.

best of the blotter 36: suburban teens, stolen coffee, and lost ducks

Solon Police responded to calls early Monday of a car stopped in the middle of Richmond Road.

Why did the driver, a 32-year-old man from Poland, Ohio, tell police he stopped in the middle of the road? Because "his heavenly father" told him to.

The man said "he was busy talking to God" and that God told him to go to a dance club in the area.

When asked if he knew where he was, the man told police he was in Columbus.

He then said he was having a tough time adjusting because he was actually from the year 33 A.D.

Several Solon High School students were arrested for underage drinking and smoking marijuana on Jan. 24 in Erie County during a PTA fundraiser gone wrong.

Deputies for the Erie County Sheriff's Office were twice called to the Kalahari Resort, where "several hundred" parents and students with the Solon High School Parent Teacher Organization were holding a fundraiser, said Capt. Paul Sigworth of the Erie County Sheriff's Office.

Just after midnight, the sheriff's office received a call of a 15-year-old girl who had passed out at the resort. Deputies reported that the girl was found in a room that had several children and adults, and that the girl had reportedly consumed an entire bottle of Absolut vodka, Sigworth said.

She was transported to the hospital with possible alcohol poisoning. And she and an 18-year-old man were charged with underage consumption.

Then at 2:24 a.m., Sigworth said deputies received another call from resort staff, who said that there had received complaints from guests that there were minors drinking and smoking marijuana in an adjacent room.

Inside the room, deputies found an open 24-pack of Coors beer, an empty bottle of vodka, a "multicolored" glass bong, rolling papers and marijuana residue.

One 18-year-old man and seven juveniles in the room – six 17-year-olds and a 16-year-old – all admitted to drinking and smoking marijuana, Sigworth said. They were charged with underage consumption and possession of marijuana. One of the teens was also charged with possession of drug paraphernalia.

The case will be handled through juvenile court, Sigworth said.

Sigworth said that deputies did not learn who obtained the alcohol and drugs for the students.

"No one was forthcoming with information about where the alcohol came from," he said.

DISORDERLY CONDUCT, CENTER ROAD: Police and fire department personnel responded to Valvoline Instant Oil Change at 4:50 p.m. Feb. 16, on a call of a disorderly customer. The woman reportedly refused to pay her $21.50 bill or to get out of her car. She reportedly told the officers that her fiance was Jesus Christ and that the officers were “demons from hell.” The 48-year-old Valley City woman was removed from her car by fire fighters and taken to Medina General Hospital for evaluation, reports said.

SOUPED, CLOVERDALE: Assailants threw cans of soup at two houses on Cloverdale Avenue Feb. 20, damaging the garage door on one of the houses. The vandalism occurred sometime between midnight and 9:43 a.m., leaving several dents in the garage door. No arrests have been reported in the case.

LOUD TV, NORTHLAND: Police responded to a Northland Drive home Feb. 15 after a report of excessive noise emanating from the apartment around 4:10 a.m. Upon arrival, the responding officer could hear a loud TV in the apartment. The resident said he was watching Wrestlemania. The officer told him to turn it down.

THEFT, WESTBRIDGE DRIVE: A 66-year-old discovered someone took the hood ornament from her Lincoln Town Car. The vehicle was parked in her driveway. The victim said the theft may have occurred within the last month.

“LOST” DUCKS, N. COURT: A caller told police on Feb. 23 that a pack of ducks was wandering through the parking lot of a N. Court St. grocery store. The caller believed the duck were “lost.” Police located the ducks around 4:38 p.m. and determined that the ducks were fine. They were left to wander.

COFFEE THEFT, ROUTE 18: A man drank a cup of coffee at Waffle House on Rt. 18 and then left without paying around 1:40 a.m. Feb. 26. Montville police attempted to locate the subject, but he drove out of their jurisdiction. Medina police stopped the vehicle on Grant Street, near Wadsworth Road, and told him to return and pay for the coffee.

DISTURBANCE, MADISON AVENUE: A woman was flashing people inside a bar Feb. 26 but a bartender said it was a man that was lifting up his shirt. He left prior to police’s arrival.

COMPLAINT, CLARENCE AVENUE: A woman was upset because a man was attempting to show her a pamphlet Feb. 25. The man was handing out fliers for a new grocery store.

FOUND PROPERTY, PEARL ROAD: At 3:12 p.m. Feb. 22, a McCarthy’s Ale House employee told police that human teeth were found in the establishment the previous week. The teeth were to be disposed of by an officer.

and I say to myself...

I miss reading the headlines of the Weekly World News while buying my groceries, but since truth is generally stranger than fiction and we live in strange times, at least the world has stayed interesting in its messed-up-ness.



Despite not believing in said religion, the Powers That Be in China have now banned the Tibetans from reincarnating, while in Burma, Than Shwe & Co. are letting out their inner J. Edgar Hoover on state television. Meanwhile in Belgium, (won't be winning any Gratuitous Use in a Serious Screenplay awards anytime soon I'm afraid), people are weirded out by not having a real government and are protesting in a manner that's half Lysistrata, half Full Monty.

Vogue is profiling the fashion and jet-setting lifestyle of another First Lady with a shady tyrannical husband (but she looks so good in her understated Chanel jewelry!) the Kids are crashing their parents' cars in Dubai, and while the logo below looks more like a deconstructed swastika to me, Iran thinks it looks like some kind of subliminal Zionist plot.



Gaddafi's nurse is heading home, while Muammar's homies in the western hemisphere seem oblivious to revolution when it happens against their friends. Cuba gets austerity, while the sultanates are magically creating 50,000 public employee jobs to keep the masses from revolting. No unions there, I'm assuming.

In these United States, Louis Farrakhan is still bffs with our man Muammar and thinks Scientology is a totally groovy thing for us crackers. Damn, those motherships are not friendly funky places staffed by (George)Clintonistas, and probably look more like this:



Sick, sad world indeed, my friends.