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April 30, 2007
Story
I recently entered a short story contest and said to myself that if I did not win, well, at least I would post the story here. At some point, I may work on this story some more and submit it some place else (as there are several ways in which I could make it better), which might mean that it suddenly disappears from the blog. But it is here for now. A couple caveats: it is rather long and, well, it has some language in it that some may find offensive.
Without further adieu, here is "Before the Towers Fell."
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Elizabeth I in Elizabeth 2
So are you still bummed, as I am, that in 1998 the fluffy Shakespeare in Love won best picture over Elizabeth and, more criminally, Mrs. Chris Martin won best actress over Cate Blanchett. The final moments of Elizabeth are powerful and chilling.
Well, if you are still bummed, then perhaps The Golden Age will help soothe the sting. Cate Blanchett, Geoffrey Rush, Clive Owen, and Samantha Morton...it should be good. Here's the trailer. Here's the official site.
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April 27, 2007
If these old walls, If these old walls could speak...
If you follow the links and have read some of the articles which I have written in catapult magazine, you may know that my relationship with Christian music is somewhat conflicted and distant. It once meant a great deal to me, though, and some albums truly rise above the simple and restrictive moniker of Christian music. Last weekend, as I was cleaning my room (an activity which itself can be both melancholy and invigorating, with each of these emotions competing for preeminence), I listened to Amy Grant's Lead Me On (1988) and remembered just how much I love that album and how good some of the songs on it are. And evidently CCM magazine agreed, listing it their top Christian album ever. Here is Lead me On on Rhapsody (sign up and get 25 free listens).
I confess that I do not claim to be an expert on Amy Grant's music as a whole. I checked out somewhere after Heart in Motion, when she headed down a somewhat more pop direction. It was not that I minded, the songs were decent, but in some ways were a step down from what I had heard on Lead Me On. And when she and Gary Chapman divorced and she shortly thereafter remarried Vince Gill, well, I pretty much, angrily, dismissed her altogether. (Whether that anger was jutified or useful or righteous or not will have to wait for another post. My thoughts on divorce are complex, full of emotion, and perhaps evolving). Since then, though, my attitude to her has settled more into disappointment and resignation, not at her so much as to the the prevalence of these sorrows in the world itself, in my life even. What made the failure of her marriage particularly so painful, though, partly was due to what I thought then was the tough idealism of Lead Me On, which evidently was neither tough or idealistic enough.
Here are some quick takes on some tracks that stand out.
Continue reading "If these old walls, If these old walls could speak..."
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April 26, 2007
Consider the Lowly Foot
This is a fascinating article about how one's feet can be and a sort of radar for larger health problems. And we ain't talking reflexogy here.
There is no help offered, though, for hairy hobbit feet.
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The Last Bits of the Anti-Americanism Series from the BBC
Here is a quote from the third and final part of this series, reported from Cairo:
The United States is not the capital of world liberalism.
What is it, then?
Home to 300 million people, most of whom genuinely believe they have earned the right to lead the world, though not to coerce it.
Perhaps one day they will meet their nemesis and American dominance will be a memory?
Other nations or movements will be in charge and I suspect we - or our children - will long to have the Yanks back.
___________
Here is a a Q & A with the series' author.
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Here is a 30 minute audio program, centered on Venezuela, which has some dramatic lines from Venezquelan President Hugo Chavez at its beginning (I have not listened to the whole broadcast).
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And for the truly hardcore, here is a discussion board with pages and pages and pages and pages of comments. Click the "Readers Recommended" tab for a more select, and, persumably, more biased against America set of comments, at least that is how I would expect the majority of readers of BBC News to swing.
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And, yes, that is the McFalafel in an Egyptian McDonalds pictured above.
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April 22, 2007
My Favorite Times of the Week
You know I think I have posted about this topic before, but it is certainly worth repeating. Very often, my favorite times of the week are just after both church and house church. The reasons for my joy are similar but not identical, as is the tenor of the joys.
My church is not perfect. In my opinion, it is not even currently fully filling one of its founding mandates of being a truly multi-cultural church. I think we need to have a black pastor and more black leadership for that to really be true. And yet, sitting in church today and looking at the diversity that exists was truly amazing. Sometimes I get rather blase about it and take it all for granted, but it is a truly remarkable thing, as is the fact that we get consistent hardcore messages encouraging us to sacrifical living (which are nested in grace I should add) and the place continues to be full and grow. Go figure. And they are tough messages. I might have an occassional theological fine point to argue sometimes or grumble with the implications of the sermon for my life, which happens more often, but, wow, there are not many other places you are going to get that combination.
I could go on about what I would like in church (a little more of the creeds and confession and...ok I can't think of a third "c") but that is not something I dwell upon, not when there are other things to be about. The combination of all the things my church offers may not be for everyone, but its voice and the emphases it focuses upon are worthy of wider hearing and consideration.
Ah, I digress. My favorite part of chuch is at the end. And not just because, "Whew, we finally get to go home," though that thought does occur from time to time. No, I dig it because after praise and prayers and a challenging sermon, we generally get either a more traditional hymn (today it was "O Sacred Head Now Wounded") or a more reflective contemporary song or spiritual, which matches my worship temperament better, though I can dig the rocking songs sometime too.
And then we get to have communion. If it were a meal, would this be the main course or would it be the sermon? The Protestants will tell you the latter; the Catholics the former. I am very close to going with the Catholics on this one. Both are sacraments, though, even in the Protestant formulation, and so impart grace. And the thought of having grace imparted to me in a tangible way, that really does something to me body, mind, and spirit excites me.
We have communion in a massive circle, so it can potentially be a little distracting, but the beauty is that no one really cares how you do it. And, though I rather like the concept of everyone doing things the same way at the same time and could be perfectly happy in a more liturgical church, I do take the advantage of the freedom to create my own ritual. Now that sounds terribly postmodern in one way, but I do not think my little rituals are counter to scripture or much tradition, so I think I am OK. They are not even that demonstrative. There are times when I really want to cross myself either during or after communion, but I haven't gotten up the courage to do that as yet.
And then after grace has been imparted to us in a touchable, chewable form, we get the benediction. I think it means the "good word." We don't always get a formal one, but I dig it when we do. Did you know that only an ordained elder can actually give a benedition in the PCA? I know to some that might sound horribly Catholic and not very priesthood of believerish, but, yes, I like it very much, to be blest by those who have been placed in spiritual authority over me. Bring it on. We can and should bless one an another as friends and family members, perhaps by placing our hands on someone's head even, but that does not perclude there being a different type of blessing from an elder. Check out the end of the book of James for a model of both of these things in the discussion concerning the person who is sick.
One part of my rituals, such as they are, that I will tell you about is that I like to cup my hands at this point, as if receiving a gift. Cheesy? Perhaps, but it encodes what is happing for me. I would even like being given the communion bread and wine if possible. If I ever have the opportunity to suggest things to a congregation in the future I might suggest some of these at the least, perhaps, as occassional practices. I may even suggest opening our mouths during parts of the service to symbolize tasting the Lord or receiving his word. Yeah, I bet the kids will love that.
No, I also like this time because I am anticipating fellowship with my friends and perhaps with new friends, because very often we will be eating together and enjoying one another's company and silly jokes in a very short while.
As for the second time of the week after house church, well the order of things is reversed a bit, as is their ecclesiastical weight. There are no official sacraments, for example. First, we eat in a weekly potluck that may feature any number of dishes from vegan to totally carnivorous. And the fellowship is even better than the food. Then we sing and study and pray. And I like the studying because, yes, I often lead it, and that is also one of my favorite things to do. And the prayer is great, because we break into gendered groups and can really deeply pray for one another (except when my Elder Eddie and Andy and I and are figuring out which old school choruses we all know and singing snippets of them rather loudly). At the end of house church, sometimes I am as giddy as a schoolgirl. What I really want to know though is, are schoolgirls really giddy, and, if so, why? OK, so perhaps I am not as giddy as all that, but I can get as silly as I do with my family, well, because I suppose that is who I am with.
OK, I did not intend to go that long....back to the Aeneid, which, I might add, is really good, classic even. Maybe there is something to this "classics" business.
Finally, blessings for the week upon you all.
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April 20, 2007
Friends, Met and Unmet
Guinea-Pig Voices in the Night
The Moon is the Spoon of the Sea!
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"Death to America" (Part 2): Venezuela
I think this picture is from Bolivia, but here is the second part of the BBC series. And a bonus article and discussion of anti-american sentiment feeling like racism in Britain.
______________
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April 19, 2007
As You Like It ::: Branagh ::: Ninjas ::: Romola Garai
Indeed. This new adaptation from Branagh has them all and Kevin Kline and Alfred Molina and Dallas Bryce Howard. I must confess, I have not read As You Like It, so am a bit in the dark.
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April 17, 2007
ReFreshment
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Unman
He began walking in a leisurely fashion beside the sea. His bare feet sank a little into a carpet of saffron-coloured vegetation, which covered them with an aromatic dust. As he was looking down at this he suddenly noticed something else. At first he thoutht it was a creature of more fantastic shape than he had yet seen on Perelandra. Its shape was not only fantastic but hideous. Then he dropped on one knee to examine it. Finally he touched it, with reluctance. A moment later he drew back his hands like a man who had touched a snake.
It was damaged animal. It was, or had been one of the brightly coloured frogs. But some accident had happened to it. The whole back had been ripped open in a sort of V-shaped gash, the point of the V being a little behind the head. Something had torn a widening wound backward--as we do in opening an envelope--along the trunk and pulled it out so far behind the animal that the hoppers or hind legs had been almost torn off with it. They were so damaged that the frog could not leap. On earth it would have been merely a nasty sight, but up to this moment Ransom had as yet seen nothing dead or spoiled in Perelandra, and it was like a blow in the face. It was like the first spasm of well-remembered pain warning a man who had thought he was cured that his family have deceived him and he is dying after all. It was like the first lied from the mouth of a friend on whose truth one was willing to stake a thousand pounds. It was irrevocable. The milk-warm wind blowing over the golden sea, the blues and silvers and greens of the floating garden, the sky itself--all these had become, in one instant, merely the illuminated margin of a book whose text was the struggling little horror at his feet....
At last he got up an resumed his walk. Next moment he started and looked at the ground again. He quickened his pace, and then once more stopped and looked. He stood stock-still and covered his face. He called aloud upon heaven to break the nightmare or to let him understand what was happening. A trail of mutilated frogs lay along the edge of the island. Picking his footsteps with care, he followed it. He counted ten, fifteen, twenty: and the twenty-first brought him to a place where the wood came down to the water's edge. He went into the wood and came out on the other side. There he stopped dead and stared. Weston, still clothed but without his pith helmet, was standing about thirty feet away: and as Ransom watched he was tearing a frog--quietly and almost surgically...Then he finished the operation, threw the bleeding ruin away, and looked up. Their eyes met.
If Ransom said nothing, it was because he could not speak. He saw a man who was certainly not ill, to judge from his easy stance and the powerful use he had just been making of his fingers. He saw a man who was certainly Weston, to judge from his height and build and colouring and features. In that sense he was quite recognisable. But the terror was that he was also unrecognisable. He did not look like a sick man: but he looked very like a dead one....And now, forcing its way up into consciousness, thrusting aside every mental habit and every longing not to believe, came the conviction that this, in fact, was not a man: that Weston's body was kept, walking and undecaying, in Perelandra by some wholly different kind of life, and that Weston himself was gone.
It looked at Ransom in silence and at last began to smile. We have often spoken--of a devilish smile. Now he realised that he had never taken the words seriously. The smile was not bitter, nor raging, nor, in an ordinary sense, sinister; it was not even mocking. It seemed to summon Ransom, with horrible naivete of welcome, into a the world of its own pleasures, as if all men were at one in those pleasures, as if they were the most natural thing in the world and no dispute could ever have occurred about them. It was not furtive, nor ashamed, it had nothing of the conspirator in it. It did not defy goodness, it ignored it to the point of annihilation. Ransom perceived that he had never before seen anything but half-hearted and uneasy attempts at evil. This creature was whole-hearted. The extremity of its evil had passed beyond all struggle into some state which bore a horrible similarity to innocence.
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April 13, 2007
Eastermath
I don't know if people get post-Easter blues the way that some get post-Christmas blues, but this week has been rather grey. Even some of my friends who are self-avowed winter lovers seem to be getting a little tired of the grey and cold. I may be getting a little tired of it too. Though, generally, this is a favorite type of weather and very nice for creating startling contrasts in photos. Here is a selection from Sunday afternoon until this morning.
ah, the catholics kick our aesthetic kiesters everytime
(well most times, some of the statuary, etc. is as horrid as the worst protestant bookstore kitsch)
"when i grow up"
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April 12, 2007
A Fascinating Series ::: A Fascinating Post
As someone who is half American by blood, though more so by choice, I often find myself in the middle in debates about America. With those who hate America (including Americans) or strongly dislike aspects of it, whether it be its educational system or its capitalism or its policies writ large or the attitude of Americans, I find myself defending America. With those who are overly patriotic and can see America doing no wrong, I question some of their assumptions. Though, truth be known, I am really more pro than con, in a general sense.
That is why I found this introduction to a series of articles fascinating, particularly coming as it does from the generally America unfriendly (though their web site is better than their television news) BBC News.
Here is the link. Here's a the intro:
The US is perceived by many as an international bully, a modern day imperial power. At this critical moment in history, Washington correspondent Justin Webb challenges that idea.
He argues anti-Americanism is often a cover for hatreds with little justification in fact. His three part series takes him to Cairo, Caracas and Washington but it begins where anti-Americanism began - in Paris.
________
This part is actually an addendum to the part above, so the category of "World Affairs" doesn't really work. Though if you you pun off of the word "affairs," or lack thereof, perhaps it does. In the continuing series of posts on singlehood...
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April 11, 2007
Pelicans on the Mississippi
Are you looking for a nice little day trip from St. Louis? Do you like birds? Well, you might check out the Riverlands Migratory Bird Sanctuary near Alton, Illinois. You don't even have to go to the center, just come up to the Missouri end of the Clark bridge and explore the wetlands around the river. There are an amazing number and variety of birds. Of course, in the winter their are the eagles, but just now there are masses of pelicans and other ducks and, yes, the ubiquitous Canada Goose, which has to be the most equisitly beautiful pest in the world.
While you are in the area, you might also want to check out the Confluence Point State Park. Pretty cool, to see the rivers mixing.
I will leave singing the praises of the Great River Road and Grafton and Pere Marquette State Park and Calhoun Countyfor another day, but those are also cool sites in the area.
Addendum: A flying pelican for Jill.
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April 10, 2007
Long Delayed
Here are two events which I fully intended to blog about, but somehow never managed to get to.
Running with the Devil
Today I managed to get back to running after nearly a two week hiatus. It was quite difficult, as usual, but the endorphins sure do feel good now. I think I burned out for a couple of weeks because: a) I always do after a few days/weeks/months of good effort, and b) I think I was rather pushing myself pretty hard before a 5k I did with friends on March 24th.
I arrived at the 5k site in Tower Grove park, which was not quite as flat as I remembered whilst driving through it (memory of the hills on a route is so subjective depending on whether you are driving a car, riding a bike, or running), to discover the number that I had been assigned was....Well, you can see it in the picture below. I said to the woman rather lightly that that was a rather inauspicious number. She asked if I wanted a different one, but I said that it wasn't a problem and that I would go ahead and wear the Mark-o-the-Beast.
Now, if you are a brother or a close friend, you may be sniggering right about now because you remember my phobia when I was growing up that I was predestined to grow up be the Anti-Christ and my obessive fear of the number "6." Oh, go ahead and laugh. It's funny. Not so much when I was kid though. You can't be too careful what sort of movies you let your kids see. A combination of obsessive compulsive tendencies (yeah, ask me about it) combined with, I am sure, a well-meant, but terrifying viewing, of The Thief in the Night at boarding school, combined with perhaps some genuine spiritual oppression, and, well, you have one fearful child. But, seriously, if you ever see me amassing large amounts of political power, I think you know what you should do.
Getting back to the race though, evidently the number didn't help my manners. Here's me running off-course, past some nice ladies who were walking the course. What can I say, the Devil made me do it. In the background you can just see Claire, of Reason's Why fame, and to the left Joel Chappeau and Dave Lim.
Dave was not running officially but came to spur us on to love and good works. As for the race, well, having gone out a bit too fast, I had to walk for about twenty yards. Still, I managed what was for me a very respectable time of 29 minutes flat. Yeah, and then dehydration and burnout, but still it was worth it. And while I was gasping across the finish line, the woman who had registered me said:
"And the Devil finishes!"
Nice.
Not by Bread Alone
So, first a little background. On Sunday afternoons, oh about ever other week, a group of us from church gather for a potluck. Our group is called The Flying P.L.A.T.E.S(S) People Living Apart Together Eating Something (Sundays). I know, I know, but just go with it, OK? Actually, it is a wonderful time where we have good food and good conversations, which are interrupted with an official ice-breaker type question for everyone to answer, so that people will talk to one another. Go figure. Actually, the questions are fun and instructive too.
At any rate, I send out an Evite for each event and sometimes come up with the theme. The theme for April 1st was a barbecue, and since the meat was being provided, people were to bring sides, salads, desserts, etc. etc. Well, the aforementioned day arrived, and I hurriedly got to the house where we were eating and lit the fire and got things going, running in and out of the house like some type of Martha, of Bethany or Stewart fame, it doesn't matter. And people kept showing up with bread. And, I, totally obllivious, kept having them put it on the table. People were amused that everyone had brought bread and joked about it a bit. I did too (ha, ha) but inwardly was getting rather nervous at our carb-loaded and boring lunch. Here is the pile pointed out by none other than the author of Flakjammit.
Now, you think I would have realized. But, no. I ran in and out, outwardly laughing, inwardly getting a little flustered, whilst the schemers sat outside enjoying the lovely day and their devious little plan.
In my prayer, I even humorously thanked God for all the bread and then reminded myself to be thankful for all our blessings in any case. It was not until just as everyone lined up to eat and I stood host-and-Martha-like at the end of the table that they revealed their prank. Honestly, it took them telling me a couple of times to understand what had just happened, as folks went out to get their real dishes.
Nicely done.
And, then, if that were not enough, they knew just how to push my buttons further. I asked for ideas for a question from the table and some suggested, "Let's go around and each tell what is our favorite body part is on the opposite sex." And true to form, just as those who know my prudish and dictator-like (benign not malignant) tendencies had predicted, I interjected something like, "No, I don't think we should do that one." Joke part two. I heard that in the planning stages for the ruse, at a party the night before, there were some even spicier suggestions than this. But I will leave that to the co-conspirators to mention in their comments if they wish.
Groan. I am gullible. And here I thought I was so aware and sophisticated.
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April 9, 2007
Another Myspace Success Story-Kate Walsh
Kate is nothing like the Arctic Monkeys, but like them has leveraged Myspace to achieve some notereity. Nice voice, nice mellow music. Here is an article. Here is her Myspace page (a very nice Myspace page, I might add-white space, no clutter). She does have some weird background vocals on "Don't Break My Heart Again," though not as bizarre as the 50s-ish ones on K.T. Tunstall's song "Stoppin the Love." Strange.
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April 8, 2007
Indeed
Crown Him the Lord of love, behold His hands and side,
Those wounds, yet visible above, in beauty glorified.
No angel in the sky can fully bear that sight,
But downward bends his burning eye at mysteries so bright.
Crown Him the Lord of life, who triumphed over the grave,
And rose victorious in the strife for those He came to save.
His glories now we sing, Who died, and rose on high,
Who died eternal life to bring, and lives that death may die.
Crown Him the Lord of peace, Whose power a scepter sways
From pole to pole, that wars may cease, and all be prayer and praise.
His reign shall know no end, and round His piercèd feet
Fair flowers of paradise extend their fragrance ever sweet.
_______________
Other brothers and sisters celebrate.
And more still.
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April 5, 2007
Good Friday
Good Friday. Really? Good? A young man who commanded his disciples to love their enemies, to pray for those who persecuted them, to walk an extra mile with a load that was not one's own, whose only concrete crime was to disturb the peace, to disrupt the merchandise of the spiritual equivalent of today's pay day loan merchants was scourged with a whip that flayed his flesh, mocked, spit upon, and put to death by means of one of the most brutal forms of execution recorded in history. And we call it good?
Good, as in "God saw all that he had made, and it was very good?" Good, as in "Taste and see that the Lord is good?" Good, as in that which we are to cling to, just as fervently as we are to hate that which is evil?
In naming the holiday "good," the church has answered a resounding yes to all these questions. It is as good as the goodness of all creation in its unfallen glory, because it is what allows a return to that glory, and more. It is good, because the Lord, whose goodness of which we are invited to taste, has come more than half way, has tasted to its core the bitter fruit of the Fall, taking death upon himself so that we can once again come to him to taste of his sweetness. It is good, because the evil which we are to hate, which has stained our very souls, can be overcome because of this good day. We need no longer loathe ourselves, because our evil has been forgiven and, because of the resurrection, its power in our lives has been broken.
The opening shots of this post picture death as it affects the creatures of the Earth, the creatures of land and water and air. This is not the place to discuss the differences of theological opinion concerning life and death before the Fall, whether death was an essential part of the ecosystem, whether animals tore one another in predation, whether humans tore animals in predation, whether humans died physically. Those are important questions, to be sure, to which I am still developing answers. However, my very gut reaction to the pictures above confirms what has traditionally been the view of the church, that death is an anamoly, that things should not be so, that, at the very least, God did not intend humans to die through the ravages of disease and war. God certainly did not want humans to die spiritually through disobedience.
I would not post pictures of human suffering here, of someone ravaged by sickness or sorrow, of someone with their body broken by violence, because in so doing I would ratchet up the revulsion we experience from the pictures above to a higher level, to a level we have difficulty bearing. And if I chose to paint word pictures on my blog 24 hours a day, if every blogger in the world could blog 24 hours a day, we could not begin to find the words to describe the suffering of our world. Suffering from which, as my friend Meg reminds us, God does not always protect even his followers in this present age. These pictures, though, serve well to illustrate for us the stench of death, physical and spiritual. We get the point.
Even though I have not sorted out my questions, I essentially agree with C. S. Lewis, against worldviews that merely posit death as natural part of the world, that do not acknowledge, at the very least, that death has taken on added dimensions after the Fall.
"If you do not take the distinction between good and bad very seriously, then it is easy to say that anything you find in this world is part of God....Confronted with a cancer or a slum the Pantheist can say, 'If you could only see it from the divine point of view, you would realise that this is also God.' The Christian replies, 'Don't talk damned nonsense.' for Christianity is a fighting religion. It thinks God made the world--that space and time, heat and cold, and all the colours and tastes, and all the animals and vegetables, are things that God 'made up out of His head' as a man makes up a story. But it also thinks that a great many things have gone wrong with the world that God made and that God insists, and insists very loudly, on putting them right again."
And on Good Friday, God insists loudly in the paradox of his powerful Son, through whom the universe was made, going silently, as a quietly as a sheep before its shearers, to die. Good Friday is good, precisely because it is the hinge point of history, the day when death dies, when death, in Aslan's famous phrase, begins to work backward.
On the existensial level, though, Good Friday still does not seem very good, it is only the backward glance that makes it so. The value of the church year, which I only experience intermittently, is that it makes us go through the darkness before we see the goodness of the day. In services that focus on the death of Christ, some involving candles which are snuffed out leaving churches in darkness, we feel the despair the disciples must have felt. It is this experience of the feeling the darkness symbolically, which makes the hope of the coming light all the more special, when Christ will rise and death will be defeated. Christ has risen and the light of his kingdom has begun to shine. Yet even today sometimes we must endure darkness until we see the Glory of the Lord fill the earth as the waters cover the sea.
"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.' He who was seated on the throne said, 'I am making everything new!'
Finally, On Good Friday, Jesus practiced what he preached. He loved his enemies and persecutors, praying for their forgiveness. Indeed, he bore the suffering that made that forgiveness possible. And for us, who were enemies of God as a result of our sin, he carried our burdens without being asked to do so, to lengths we could never manage. And that makes this Friday very Good indeed.
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April 4, 2007
Wikipedia! Paint! Powerpoint!
Where to begin this entry? Well, as a librarian I feel compelled to tell you that Wikipedia is an encyclopedia which is created by Internet users who may or may not have received formal education about the topic upon which they are writing. It is a collaborative encyclopedia, so the facts articles present may be challenged, etc. There have also been some instances of hacking. Moreover, many college professors (and I think rightly) will not accept articles from Wikipedia for college papers.
Having said that, I dig Wikipedia. I still think there are better choices for college level research, but it is an excellent place to find basic information, especially about topics which are either not traditionally covered in encyclopedias or will not appear in a print encyclopedia until the publishing cycle catches up. Need information on the meteoric rise of the Arctic Monkeys? Need the box scores for last year's World Series? Wikipedia is your place. And even though I am strong supporter of formal education and degrees, etc. etc., especially now, hobbyists and fans often may know a great deal about a topic and have done incredible amounts of research on it. Also, Wikipedia will tell you when a particular part of an article is under dispute or when information in a particular article is still developing. I think this displays an admirable intellectual humility or transparency.
At any rate this article was not intended to be about Wikipedia at all, but about Paint, a graphics tool which has come free with every version of Windows. I just read the Wikipedia article about Paint and was so excited to discover secret features in Paint that I had to toot Wikipedia's horn. Actually, that was not even the real impetus for this article, but we'll get to that in the last paragraph.
I like Paint because, together with PowerPoint which is not free but is readily found in offices, schools, etc., I can come up with a poor man's graphics suite. I am too lazy to go into all the hows here, but PowerPoint allows one to layer items and add text easily and Paint allows one to work at the pixel level. And by carefully bouncing pieces back and forth (though each time one saves, one loses details I think) I am able to make such things as blog banners. My masterpieces, in my opinion, are the banners for The Moon is the Spoon of the Sea, Guinea Pig Voices in the Night (though this actually entailed some sketching and pencil coloring), and my latest creation for Sweet Chicken. I am really excited about the Sweet Chicken one just now, but well The Moon is the Spoon took the most crazy Paint/PowerPoint mashup skills.
Even though I am proud of my work, I must simply say I am not worthy to examine the pixels of the artist who created Mona Lisa in Paint, in 2 hours and 30 minutes, no less! Enjoy and be amazed! P.S. The video has a soundtrack.
Afterwards, pull up a picture of the real Mona Lisa on Google, the Paint version is not nearly as fine, but it is not bad. If you are really a geek, hit print screen on the Paint version when it is done and paste it into Paint, enlarge it, and examine the pixels. Wow.
Posted by jackdas at 12:11 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
April 1, 2007
El Domingo de Ramos
Seems the sorrow untold, as you look down the road
At the clamoring crowd drawing near
Feel the heat of the day, as you look down the way
Hear the shouts of Hosanna the King
Chorus
Oh, daughter of Zion your time's drawing near
Don't forsake Him, oh don't pass it by
On the foal of a donkey as the prophets had said
Passing by you, He rides on to die
Come now little foal, though your not very old
Come and bear your first burden bravely
Walk so softly upon all the coats and the palms
Bear the One on your back oh so gently
Midst the shouting so loud and the joy of the crowd
There is One who is riding in silence
For He knows the ones here will be fleeing in fear
When their shepherd is taken away
Chorus
Soon the thorn cursed ground will bring forth a crown
And this Jesus will seem to be beaten
But He'll conquer alone both the shroud and the stone
And the prophesies will be completed
Chorus
On the foal of a donkey as the prophets had said
Passing by you He rides on to die
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Lyrics: "Ride on to Die" by Michael Card
Table Arrangement: Diane Binnington, using cast off palm fronds from our "Sunday of the Branches" at church today.
Other sisters and brothers celebrate!
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Posted by jackdas at 9:19 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack