"Ah, Vanka's gone to Petersburg/And I'll not wait for him--"

   I'm reading about Ivan Fyordorovich Karamazov right now in The Brothers Karamazov. I imagine he wears very small spectacles and has long hair and a very long, philosophical beard. You see, Ivan Fyordorovich is a proud 19th century Russian intellectual, and I guess they probably would have looked a particularly homogeneous back then. Consider, for example, the gowns and caps we wear when we graduate from an institution. Have you ever asked yourself why it is that we wear those silly things? My dad explained to me a few years back that it was because scholars held themselves apart from popular and individual style. I suppose their goal was to progress knowledge without letting frivolity taint their effort. In any case, I think Ivan must have worn something similar, except I don't picture him wearing that ridiculous cap because, well, I can only picture ridiculous people wearing such a cap. Ivan Fyordorovich is indeed no ridiculous character, but he is a hypocrite, which some might take as being ridiculous. However, if we were to be honest with ourselves--each and everyone of us--we would realize that there is at least a little bit of hypocrisy in us, if not an overwhelming amount. Ivan hypocrisy is manifested in his own involuntary aversion to not live in step with his atheistic beliefs. He asserts that God, and consequently morality, were constructed by society in order to keep people feeling safe and secure rather than letting them embrace the doomed awareness of the nothingness to come. Basically, if one does not have a proper understanding that "all things are permitted" (because if there is no infinite God and therefore no standard for behavior, all things are indeed permitted.), they will succumb to the despair of a nothing that comes after death. The irony is that Ivan, despite his stance, indeed has a very magnetized moral compass. His father and illegitimate brother, on the other hand, actually embody his philosophy, yet he detests them.

   Oh my, but where am I going with all of this? I just wanted to share a little bit about this character since he is so complex and interesting. If you want to actually see more of his development, you should read the book. It's a little dense, and some people think that the heavy amount of dialogue and little amount of action make for a difficult reward. If you can make it thorough, though, it will be immensely rewarding. Give it a shot!

"Just nineteen, a sucker's dream: I guess I thought you had the flavor."

I really like Placebo, but I probably shouldn't since I strictly oppose the outlook they convey in their music, which, of course, is not completely contained in one statement and changes slightly (and sometimes radically) from record to record. I'm not really comfortable with androgyny, nor do I identify with the many references to drug culture Placebo makes, but the reason why I enjoy listening to this band, which, in my opinion, is the epitome of "sex, drugs, and rock n' roll," is because of the brokenness they convey in relation to all ideas and actions they sing about. Brian Molko, Placebo's lead singer, doesn't seem to revere Christ (see "Haemoglobin" from the album Black Market Music), but he does seem to aware of the brokenness of the human condition. What Placebo embraces and flaunts is also the force that drives the extremely raw and honest reflection of the problematic state of the human condition in their music. The bulk of their music prior to their latest release reflects an intense grapple with sex and drugs, and it weighs heavily upon the listener and rightfully so because Placebo's early work is dark. Their music is seething raw, though, and this is probably one of the things that draws me to it. Nevertheless, I have to wonder sometimes what sort of an effect it's having on me. It hasn't really encouraged me to go do drugs or take on an androgynous lifestyle, but perhaps it serves to make me feel and think that I'm more angsty than I really am, and that's really a pointless identification to hold hands with.

Damien Rice Reaches to the Deepest Recesses of my Soul

sleep don't weep

sleep don't weep
my sweet love
your face it's all wet
and your day was rough
so do what you must do
to find yourself
wear another's shoe
or paint my shelves
there's times that i was broke
and you stood strong
i think i found a place
where i ..
sleep don't weep
my sweet love
your face it's all wet
'cause our days were rough
so do what you must do
to fill that hole
wear another's shoe
to comfort the sole
there's times that i was broke
and you stood strong
i think i found a place
where i feel i will..
sleep don't weep
my sweet love
my face it's all wet
'cause my day was rough
so do what you must do
to find yourself
wear another's shoe
or paint my shelves
there's times that i was broke
and you stood strong
i hope i find a place where i feel i belong
sleep don't weep
my sweet love
my face it's all wet
'cause my day was rough
don't weep
my sweet love
my face is all wet
'cause my days were rough

Where we come from
the British Isles
I do not know
But I'm white
or told I'm so
but she's an
ethiopian
scorched by Pheobus
Apollo
the son of Zeus
comparativists compare
him to Jesus, but
No, No, "Know yourself."
That's much
too much
an undercooked egg

Guitar

The guitar is definitely one of the "coolest" instruments that we know of in our culture, which is the reason why so many guys take up "playing" it. It's no secret that if you go to a coffee shop, bar, or college ministry on a given evening, you will find some schmuck strumming away in feigned consternation as he attempts to draw unsuspecting young women to him through this 'cool' instrument. In fact, just last night as I was walking into one of San Marcos' coffee shops, I noticed such a fiend strum-strum-strumming.

There are so many guys who play the guitar that it is not funny. I'm not even sure now if I really play it. I don't feel competent enough to really play anywhere, but I also feel like I'm holding myself up to a certain set of standards, which these 'dudes' could never comply with anyway. But I'm full of pride, so it would be best if I turn my cannons elsewhere.

Standards are important! No one really values low standards in the long-term; just ask any sorority girl that because they should know: both the ones who have experienced it and the ones who have witnessed it. Good standards for guitar players are hard to put a thumb on; however, if you put your whole body on them, they might be easier to pin down.

My personal standards consist of 3 important factors:

1. A repertoire allowing me to play at least two hours without repeating any songs
2. No singing
3.

Top 3 Food Pairings

3. Soda with pizza
2. Eggnog drank through Oreo straws
1. Reece's Puffs floating in vanilla soy milk

You hain't failed me yet; you won't fail me ta come.

I'm a rapscallion and a profligate, and yet I think I can satisfy my Father's hatred of my sin and wickedness by providing him with a decent recompense for my nice, little, tidy works to help my fellow man out. Am I wrong! Self-justification: it's the disease of this age. Mankind's stiff neck, I think. I once heard you say that it's like dirty rags--my righteousness, that is. That would leave me hopeless. So where's the other side of the equation? Do we walk in circles: damned if we do; damned if we don't. But I think not, for you're much bigger than that and capable of more than we could ever think because you gave up your strength to become weak in our place. You were humbled beyond humiliation and suffered so that our suffering would be measured with hope. You took it, and we ran free. Grant us to submit to you and break our tight, obstinate necks. They're unsettling, aren't they. Change us, yes; change us by your blood. It's the only thing we can take. Yes, yes, yeah.

Hair yesterday; gone today

One of the best things about having a receding hairline is that it helps you realize the futility of the vainglorious god of style. God sacrificed that strait short so that I'd turn away from futility. It's better this way.

An Epic Tale Full of Grace, Love, and Revolution!

So I finally finished reading Les Misérables. Man, it took me a long time to finish that book (six months, actually)! It is so epic in its scope, beginning with the development of a minor yet necessary character (Monseigneur Myriel Bienvenu)and culminating with a powerfully strong literary scene involving the man whom he impacted. Everything that happens in-between is very dense, complex, and enthralling, except for the occasional tangents Hugo takes to talk about some aspect of French history, culture, and society.

One of the things I love most about Les Misérables is Hugo's understanding of grace and how he infuses it within the story. Jean Valjean, the story's protagonist, if you didn't happen to know, experiences it, and it changes him completely, so much so that he shows it to his nemesis (the unbending law) near the end of the book.

I recommend reading it. The Signet Classics publication is only 8 dollars, and it's a good, thorough translations. Some of the translations out there don't bother to translate everything, but the one by Lee Fahnestock & Norman MacAfee (the Signet Classics version) does. This, of course, is the version I read. The most recent one, which is by Julie Rose, might be good to since it's a more recent translation. That one is with Vintage Classics, I believe. Read Les Misérables; you know you want to!

It's getting a little hot again here in what I call the Big T, except this year it's also humid. Yuck! What the duck is up, Big T? Treat us a little better, pweese! We will bake you cookies! :)

Jesus...Sweet, Sweet Jesus

Making Merry—And Pippin Also!

I'll drink to that, too, you cute little hobbits!

Ketching Up. Squeezing Hard.

Wow! It's been a while since I last posted something. But this indeed happens often, I realize. I'll go for a while without writing, then write, then neglect to write for an extended period of time. Consistency would be nice, but I don't that I should expect that of myself. Nevertheless, my intention is to post more regularly from now on.

I've been trying to read more since I've lived in San Marcos. Well, I guess I've been trying to read more since the day I was first immersed into that mythic and action-packed world inhabited by the four-eyed Harry Potter. My tastes have matured a little since then, but I give that book series credit for peaking my interest in reading books. Right now I am reading three books—the Bible, written by all of those blessed saints of old by whom it was the Lord's will to speak, the earnest and contrite Confessions by Saint Augustine, and Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. In a way I don't know if I really need to list the Bible. In my prescience there's no foreseeable point in which I see myself taking it off of the roster, perpetually on cue as it is. At some point, I'll either stop or finish reading Les Miserables and Confessions, but the Bible is continually to have it's own sacred space on the shelf of my reading list.

In regard to music, I have been listening to an old nineties emo band lately—some of the progenitors of emo, Sunny Day Real Estate. If your favorite band was determined by the one you have been listening to most currently, then I guess Sunny Day Real Estate would be mine. I still hold to Radiohead as my favorite, yet something about the austerity and terseness of their music has made it less listenable for me lately than it was in the past, wheras I feel strangely uplifted by Sunny Day Real Estate and the solo recordings from its lead singer Jeremy Enigk.

I should go now, for I have work tomorrow morning and should get some rest. Plus, I have a cold and the congestion/running nose is pissing me off. I hope that sleep'll help me forget about it. Amen