Body: Today is Michaelmas.

It is also the feast of the three Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael.

You can read more about it here.

One of the wonderful ambiguities of religious tradition is the way that what may seem from the outside to be a simple "symbolic" allegory is, in fact, multivalent and complementary. Michael is most popularly considered as a warrior and in a military light. He led the angels against Satan and threw him from heaven. Yet earlier traditions associate Michael with curative powers and healing, and to this day he is the patron saint of the sick. This is conflated with the role of Raphael, whose name means "God has healed," and who is cited in the book of Tobit which features miraculous healing. In that same book, Raphael accompanies Tobias on a great journey, which has caused him to be associated with travel and critical junctures. We might think that these qualities would be better suited to Gabriel, who is the messenger and angel of the Annunciation, who first proclaimed: "Hail Mary, full of grace..." But while Gabriel is both a traveler and a messenger, his own work does not stop there. Gabriel's own name means "strength of the lord" and he has been associated with the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.

It would seem, then, that the qualities and roles of these three angels are somewhat mingled, and I believe that this is a reflection of the interaction of their themes in the real world. You cannot really separate testimony from struggle and from healing. They all combine and take each other on.

To step for a moment into a "political" issue, I want to consider the current health care debate here. It is political but it also touches on religion and spirituality. The Health Care debate might fall under the province of Michael, since it is a question of healing. But healing itself is a fight and a struggle; the body fights off infection. Right now we are in the midst of a great fight for the health of our nation, and too many Christians (and too many Catholics) are looking at the issue within the closely inscribed boundaries of their own self-interest. They may sincerely ascribe their views to concerns over abortion or patient rights, but these issues have been resolved for the discerning witness and listener. And isn't that our responsibility? Isn't that an aspect of the faith we are called to observe? To be a discerning witness?

So I call on my fellow Christians to consider the sharing of roles and responsibilities of these three angels, and to take a stand for the public option in today's debate. This is a case where our faith must enter into the realm of politics, but the argument that faith should make, based on both tradition and scripture, is solidly on the side of robust reform.

Body: Storms.

Body: Happy 2000th Birthday, Saint Paul!

Things are way different here from how they were when you were around.

Then again, maybe not so much.

Body: Youth is not relative, it is only subjective.

A youngun' is anyone who was not old enough to theoretically understand the significance of Kurt Cobain's death in 1994. It doesn't matter whether they actually do know or understand said death... however, they have to have been old enough (say eight or nine) to have had a conversation about this musician who made music that a lot of people liked, and he killed himself, and that's that.

An elder is anyone who was old enough to theoretically understand the significance of James Brown's performance at the Apollo in 1962. It doesn't matter whether they actually do know or understand said performance... however, they have to have been old enough (say nine or ten) to have had a discussion about this musician who electrified an audience with a propensity to boo singers off stange, and brought about a whole new kind of music.

It's interesting to me that the demarcations both result from music, and not from literature, politics, or science. But there it is.

This is what makes someone a youngun' or an elder.

Body: The Litany of Mary

When praying the Litany of Mary, I've always been puzzled by the abundance of titles attributed to Mary. Many are evocative, but some seem almost inexplicable: "tower of ivory" and "seat of wisdom" and so forth. This week I was lucky enough to come across this website on the Litany, which was evidently composed during the Middle Ages at the Holy House of Loreto.

The site is interesting because it links to a separate page on each of the Marian metaphors, usually in the form of a prayer, which helps to put these fascinating titles into context.

I'll have to watch out. It could become a time vacuum.

BODY: Soothe, by the Smashing Pumpkins.

I think that for many of us the lyrics to Soothe by the Smashing Pumpkins represents the possibility, if not the ideal, of what we can realistically hope for when it comes to dealing with ugly situations in the past and present. Look at these words as applying not to a person, but to an event or a situation.



Hold me, hold me again. Hold me, hold me again.
When will it start to sway?
When will it start to almost break you?
Hold me, hold me again. Hold me, hold me again.

I don't miss you, and I don't wish you love,
but I forgive you and I don't wish you away, away, away.
It'll almost break you, almost take you,
almost break you, almost break you up.

BODY: Gene Robinson's Prayer.

Borrowed from Pastor Dan.

Welcome to Washington! The fun is about to begin, but first, please join me in pausing for a moment, to ask God’s blessing upon our nation and our next president.

O God of our many understandings, we pray that you will...

Bless us with tears – for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a dollar a day, where young women from many lands are beaten and raped for wanting an education, and thousands die daily from malnutrition, malaria, and AIDS.

Bless us with anger – at discrimination, at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.

Bless us with discomfort – at the easy, simplistic "answers" we’ve preferred to hear from our politicians, instead of the truth, about ourselves and the world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.

Bless us with patience – and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be "fixed" anytime soon, and the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a messiah.

Bless us with humility – open to understanding that our own needs must always be balanced with those of the world.

Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance – replacing it with a genuine respect and warm embrace of our differences, and an understanding that in our diversity, we are stronger.

Bless us with compassion and generosity – remembering that every religion’s God judges us by the way we care for the most vulnerable in the human community, whether across town or across the world.

And God, we give you thanks for your child Barack, as he assumes the office of President of the United States.

Give him wisdom beyond his years, and inspire him with Lincoln’s reconciling leadership style, President Kennedy’s ability to enlist our best efforts, and Dr. King’s dream of a nation for ALL the people.

Give him a quiet heart, for our Ship of State needs a steady, calm captain in these times.

Give him stirring words, for we will need to be inspired and motivated to make the personal and common sacrifices necessary to facing the challenges ahead.

Make him color-blind, reminding him of his own words that under his leadership, there will be neither red nor blue states, but the United States.

Help him remember his own oppression as a minority, drawing on that experience of discrimination, that he might seek to change the lives of those who are still its victims.

Give him the strength to find family time and privacy, and help him remember that even though he is president, a father only gets one shot at his daughters’ childhoods.

And please, God, keep him safe. We know we ask too much of our presidents, and we’re asking FAR too much of this one. We know the risk he and his wife are taking for all of us, and we implore you, O good and great God, to keep him safe. Hold him in the palm of your hand – that he might do the work we have called him to do, that he might find joy in this impossible calling, and that in the end, he might lead us as a nation to a place of integrity, prosperity and peace.

AMEN.

BODY: Today is a new beginning.

I am turning over several new leaves.

BODY: Things to Inspect and Consider

These links are for my own use and convenience.
However, you are welcome to use them too, if you like.

EVENTIME

USNO: Complete Sun and Moon Data for One Day. BSF:ET
Sapphire Moon: Solstice and Equinox Finder. BSF:ET

GODTIME

EXERCISE: Society of Jesus: Oregon Province: The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. = starting mid-September
CHURCH OBLIGATION: 2009 Holy Days of Obligation. ~M

FAITH: Street Prophets =
HOPE: Daily Kos =, Democratic Socialists of America ~T
CHARITY: Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation ~M, Flint Club. ~T
LENT: Operation Rice Bowl. =

CALENDARTIME

ALMANAC

LOOK UP: SPACE.com: Night Sky Highlights in 2009. ~M
LOOK UP: AccuWeather.com: Chicago, IL Weather Forecast. =
LOOK OUT: USA National Phenology Network. ~W
LOOK OUT: Chicago Reader. ~H
LOOK OUT: Wikitravel: Chicago. m3
LOOK OUT: Urban Gardening. ~F
LOOK OUT: Frugal Village ~F
LOOK OUT: Chicago Urban Exploring. m4
LOOK OUT: Benjamin Franklin y12
LOOK IN: Time. y12
LOOK IN: The Eightfold Path. y1
LOOK DOWN: St. Boniface Cemetery. y12

HEALTH

United States Department of Agriculture: MyPyramid.gov. BSF:ET

BLOG and NEWS
New York Times. =
Chi·Town Daily News. =
Chicago Sun-Times. ~M
Detroit Free Press. ~W
Flint Broadside. m2
Flint Journal. =
Rickey Hampton.
Andy Heller. =
Detroit Free Press: The Detroit Tigers. ~M
Detroit Free Press: Detroit Pistons. ~T
Detroit Free Press: Detroit Red Wings. ~W
Detroit Free PresS: U of M Wolverines. ~H
Detroit Free Press: MSU Spartans. ~F
USA Gymnastics. ~F

Proceed to blog. *

Body: "Seems I keep getting this story twisted."

?

?

"Somewhere, someone must know the ending?"

Body: Green Yearround.

There are several times throughout the year when I find myself thinking about evergreens.



I think about them a lot in the summer because whenever I see one it reminds me of camping. In Flint, we had two maples in our front yard, and so I really only saw a lot of needled things whenever I went camping, with Boy Scouts or with my dad, or when my family went on home school field trips. The pines and firs always seemed more muscular and stern than the broadleaf trees I saw elsewhere, and the evergreens have that kicking sharp sap smell. This discrepancy is one of the reasons that the city always felt more docile to me, more manageable and accessible, whatever Flint's reputation turned out to be.

When we moved out to Flushing, the suburbs, for many years there were two looming spruces that overshadowed our house, a farm-house; they made it feel like a cottage, they were so large and shadowy. So, of course, I also think of evergreens during the holiday season. When I was young I imagined that Santa Claus' domain was presided over by an absolutely gigantic pine tree (and it had to be a pine), thousands of feet high, with scaled-up ornaments serving as factories and workshops. The sleigh launched itself from the prong of the star on top, or more likely from the angel's arms. And the trees were prominent in my thoughts in December of 1992 (I think), when we visited three different Christmas Tree farms. We wanted the perfect tree, and when we finally got home with one, it was already dark out. We carried that small tree into the house between those towering spruces.

Today, in Chicago, again, I don't see evergreens that often, although there are some. I remember last winter I was exploring Margate Park, a neighborhood near my own, small and secluded, with a psychiatric hospital, a lot of Vietnamiese immigrants, and a relatively affluent strip along Lincoln Park. There are some beautiful, if small, groves of evergreens there. I remember them now because last year I noticed that sharp smell, that bright green, jumped out in the middle of winter stink and slush. It was January.

I might go back again soon. Evergreens make the cold part of the year feel less desolate.

Body: The Deep Swimming Pools.

Nemo 33 is, as far as I know, the deepest swimming pool in the world. It includes several caves and an a 115 foot dive site.



I had a dream, back when I was eight or nine, that was a sort of horror-movie sequel to an earlier dream, in which the Largest Storm Ever arrived to destroy the Earth. Somehow, I'm not sure how, disaster must have been averted because in the second dream the Storm was coming again and drastic action was required to save the world. Some sort of a stone or a pendant or something had to be retrieved from where it had been dropped in the Deepest Pool in the World, located in Holland, Michigan. I went swimming in that pool, aware that the concrete floor sloped away beneath me, falling miles, miles, and miles. One irrational fear of mine has always been heights... a related fear is being in deep water; suspended over an unmanageable depth. Even snorkeling on my honeymoon, I had a hard time managing my reaction when we went swimming over water twenty feet deep. I wonder where this comes from.



I don't remember how the dream ended.

Body: A Few Thoughts on Abortion for Voting Catholics Like Me.

I'm going to write about this at length, but not today.
This is truly an issue where I believe both major party lines are seriously flawed, although Democrats have made more headway recently then Republicans.

The Democrats often decry the practice of abortion while refusing to legislate on the subject. Since these declarations are often offered without a solution proposed, they amount to platitudes, though there are signs of improvement. Some Democrats (the Presidential ticket among them) are encouraging reductions in the number of abortions through social levers. Some may say that this is an ineffective compromise; from the standpoint that life is sacred prebirth, it is certainly a compromise. However it is not ineffective; the nations with the lowest abortion rates have, in fact, legalized abortion in the context of a health care system that provides medical and financial assistance to new mothers.

The Republican Party takes a stand on the legality of the subject, but it is a sanctimonious, self-righteous stand that offers nothing, not even crumbs, to those they would bar from abortion. This is borne out, as the role of poverty is often the decisive factor in whether or not to have an abortion, while Republicans tend to slash welfare programs that respond to these problems, regardless of the program's effectiveness, and even while other spending proliferates under their watch. This is worse than a platitude; it is a sort of open-book hypocrisy. If conservatives really value the lives of the unborn, they'll be willing to make real sacrifices in other policy positions to advance this issue: universal health care, provisions for the poor and disenfranchised, and comprehensive sex education to reduce the number of unwanted pregnancies.

From the point of view of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, abortion is a non-negotiable issue. That is fine, and is in agreement with the Catechism:

Since the first century the Church has affirmed the moral evil of every procured abortion.
This teaching has not changed and remains unchangeable.
Direct abortion, that is to say, abortion willed either as an end or a means, is gravely contrary to the moral law... (2771)

What can and must remain negotiable is the way in which this issue is addressed. Solutions which pass the buck, which demand compliance on the part of others without asking us to scrutinize our own lives and obligations are the easy way out, and have more to do with keeping our own conscience clean according to some minimum standard than leading a true life of faith. But solutions which spread out the sacrifice, where we "do unto others" and take on a portion of the burden as a sign of our commitment are not only more effective; they speak for themselves as a more genuine living out of God's vision. For "if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing," (1 Corinthians 13:3).

Body: Stratus

Body: Today is the Feast of the Nativity of the Virgin Mary.

Actually, this feast was imported late by the Latin church from the Byzantines. Its origins are supposedly in the 400s, when a man heard angels singing happy birthday to the Virgin Mary. It is a day of veneration, but this story is considered apocryphal. I also know that the immaculate conception of Mary is one of the two infallible statements that the pope has ever made (the other concerning the assumption of Mary). Notinally, papal infallibility is a more credible concept when it is sparingly exercised, and only with regards to faith.

When I think about feasts such as this, I always wonder what the house looked like. Was the roof leaking, was it day or night, and were they drinking their water from clay cups?

Body: We have faith and hope, but where is charity?

A point of frustration.

The Catholic Catechism is quite explicit in stressing the importance of charity, even relative to other virtues:

1826 "If I . . . have not charity," says the Apostle, "I am nothing." Whatever my privilege, service, or even virtue, "if I . . . have not charity, I gain nothing."103 Charity is superior to all the virtues. It is the first of the theological virtues: "So faith, hope, charity abide, these three. But the greatest of these is charity."104

But Parish bulletins, which ought to be a wonderful place to learn about opportunities to give/volunteer/donate/contribute are almost always devoid of such opportunities, unless it's, say, ministry to the sick. Don't get me wrong; these things are important. But there always seems to be room to write about outreach opportunity, films and picnics, and so on. The same goes for bulletin boards and catholic websites.

My own experiences have taken in three parishes in my current neighborhood (Uptown, Chicago), but I've also found this to be true as a general trend when I've gone to church in Flint and New York.

What I wonder is, given the stress on the unique importance of charity as a virtue, why aren't churches working harder to provide information on opportunities to give?

Body: The Non-Canonical Gospels

For Urbantasm, I've been reading up quite a bit on theology, eschatology, and the occult. John Bridge considers himself to be the antichrist, and the novel deals quite a bit with religious themes, particularly concerning the nature of space and infinity. It's been very fascinating, because there's an automatic tension between a lot of these texts, even though they are widely separated in terms of how and why they were composed. The Catholic Study Bible and Lee Strobel's The Case for Christ make cases that are automatically critical of, for example, the non-canonical gospels, and the tension between various modes of fortunetelling and the Catechism is well documented.

I personally accept the arguments for why the canonical texts are such, and why other accounts were not included. In fact, reading these texts makes me particularly grateful that they are not a foundation of our faith, since they are frequently misogynistic and tend to restrict salvation to a narrowly definted elect. Many deemphasize the principle of forgiveness and access to grace. It would seem that the canonical gospels, even if they are considered not as religious texts but as social referendum are both more stable and inclusive, and I'd like to think that this is at least part of the reason why they were ultimately selected.

All this said, however, the non-canonical texts are fascinating... they're fascinating in their diversity and their imagery. The Christ they depict is often more violent -- I was dimly reminded of Tetsuo from Akira -- and the scenes are often apocalyptic and psychedelic. This is the scary looking god with the red eyes in the stained glass windows at St. John Vianny's in Flint:

Jesus said, "This heaven will pass away, and the one above it will pass away. The dead are not alive, and the living will not die. During the days when you ate what is dead, you made it come alive. When you are in the light, what will you do? On the day when you were one, you became two. But when you become two, what will you do?"
- The Gospel of Thomas

Another time he took me and James and Peter to the mountain where her used to pray, and we saw (on) him a light such that a man, who uses mortal speech, cannot describe what it was like. Again he took us three likewise up the mountain, saying 'Come with me.' And again we went; and we saw him at a distance praying. Then I, since he loved me, went quietly up to him, as if he could not see, and stood looking at his hinder parts; and I saw him not dressed in clothes at all, but stripped of those (that) we (usually) saw (upon him), and not like a man at all. (And I saw that) his feet were whiter than snow, so that the ground there was lit up by his feet; and that his head stretched up to heaven, so that I was afraid and called out; and he, turning about, appeared as a small man and caught hold of my beard and pulled it and said to me, 'John, do not be faithless, but inquisitive.' And I said to him, 'Why, Lord, what have I done?' But I tell you, my brethren, that I suffered such pain for thirty days in the place where he touched my beard, that I said to him, 'Lord, if your playful tug has caused such pain, what (would it be) if you had dealt me a blow?' And he said to me, 'Let it be your concern from now on not to tempt him that cannot be tempted.'
- John's Preaching of the Gospel

But the best (in terms of interest), and the worst (in terms of a responsible thesis), is the Infancy Gospel of Thomas:

3:1 The son of Annas the scribe was standing there with Jesus. Taking a branch from a willow tree, he dispersed the waters which Jesus had gathered.
3:2 When Jesus saw what had happened, he became angry and said to him, "You godless, brainless moron, what did the ponds and waters do to you? Watch this now: you are going to dry up like a tree and you will never produce leaves or roots or fruit."
3:3 And immediately, this child withered up completely. Then, Jesus departed and returned to Joseph's house. (4) The parents of the one who had been withered up, however, wailed for their young child as they took his remains away. Then, they went to Joseph and accused him, "You are responsible for the child who did this."
4:1 Next, he was going through the village again and a running child bumped his shoulder. Becoming bitter, Jesus said to him, "You will not complete your journey."
4:2 Immediately, he fell down and died.
4:3 Then, some of the people who had seen what had happened said, "Where has this child come from so that his every word is a completed deed?"
4:4 And going to Joseph, the parents of the one who had died found fault with him. They said, "Because you have such a child, you are not allowed to live with us in the village, or at least teach him to bless and not curse. For our children are dead!"
- The Infancy Gospel of Thomas

Body: Happy Halloween.

Warning, spoiler: The Monk by Matthew Lewis, The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe.

There is no point to this post. It is for your pleasure. :)

---

According to Wikipedia, "the slasher film (sometimes referred to as bodycount films and dead teenager movies) is a sub-genre of horror film typically involving a psychopathic killer (often wearing a mask) who stalks and graphically murders a series of victims in a random, unprovoked fashion, killing many within a single day. The victims are usually photogenic teenagers or young adults who are away from mainstream civilization or far away from help and often involved in sexual activities or illegal-drug use or both. These films typically begin with the murder of a young woman and typically end with a lone female survivor who manages to subdue the killer, only to discover that the problem has not been completely solved." This definition is perhaps over-specific, but understood a little more broadly, slashers evoke a response by the explicitness of affliction and an emphasis on its bodily nature.

As a genre, slashers supposedly contrast with thrillers, which rely on suspense about what is going to happen instead of simply when, psychological terror over physical atrocity, and defers the most gruesome effects to the imagination. Thrillers are often seen to require more craft on the part of artists and patience on the part of audiences, and are more highly regarded by mainstream critics.

But I have long thought that each genre has something different to offer. By trading in one subtlety, the slasher can develop another. They are, by the very reason of their visceral, blatant effect, more adaptable to allegory and stylization than more psychologically dependent work. Alfred Hichcock made masterfully crafted and subtle thrillers, and George Romero has made crafted and masterfully subtle slashers.

Today, of course, these terms are thrown around mostly with regard to films, but the first precedent, in terms of these genre and many of their conventions, may actually be literary. Ann Radcliffe wrote novels during the 1790s, including The Mysteries of Udolpho, and characters must reconcile the mysteries and connections of their past in a vast and threatening setting. Isolation and uncertainty are the impetus for fear, and her books typically involve little or no bloodshed.

Her chief rival, Matthew Lewis, was mostly known for one book, The Monk which, while completely immersed in the biases and prejudices of its day, also provided a very forceful and striking study of the virgin/whore mythology.

Here's an excerpt from each. See if you can tell who is who.

---

To withdraw her thoughts, however, from the subject of her misfortunes, she attempted to read, but her attention wandered from the page, and, at length, she threw aside the book, and determined to explore the adjoining chambers of the castle. Her imagination was pleased with the view of ancient grandeur, and an emotion of melancholy awe awakened all its powers, as she walked through rooms, obscure and desolate, where no footsteps had passed probably for many years, and remembered the strange history of the former possessor of the edifice. This brought to her recollection the veiled picture, which had attracted her curiosity, on the preceding night, and she resolved to examine it. As she passed through the chambers, that led to this, she found herself somewhat agitated; its connection with the late lady of the castle, and the conversation of Annette, together with the circumstance of the veil, throwing a mystery over the subject, that excited a faint degree of terror. But a terror of this nature, as it occupies and expands the mind, and elevates it to high expectation, is purely sublime, and leads us, by a kind of fascination, to seek even the object, from which we appear to shrink.

Emily passed on with faltering steps, and having paused a moment at the door, before she attempted to open it, she then hastily entered the chamber, and went towards the picture, which appeared to be enclosed in a frame of uncommon size, that hung in a dark part of the room. She paused again, and then, with a timid hand, lifted the veil; but instantly let it fall--perceiving that what it had concealed was no picture, and, before she could leave the chamber, she dropped senseless on the floor.

---

'The fatal night arrived. The Baron slept in the arms of his perfidious Mistress, when the Castle-Bell struck 'One.' Immediately Beatrice drew a dagger from underneath the pillow, and plunged it in her Paramour's heart. The Baron uttered a single dreadful groan, and expired. The Murderess quitted her bed hastily, took a Lamp in one hand, in the other the bloody dagger, and bent her course towards the cavern. The Porter dared not to refuse opening the Gates to one more dreaded in the Castle than its Master. Beatrice reached Lindenberg Hole unopposed, where according to promise She found Otto waiting for her. He received and listened to her narrative with transport: But ere She had time to ask why He came unaccompanied, He convinced her that He wished for no witnesses to their interview. Anxious to conceal his share in the murder, and to free himself from a Woman, whose violent and atrocious character made him tremble with reason for his own safety, He had resolved on the
destruction of his wretched Agent. Rushing upon her suddenly, He wrested the dagger from her hand: He plunged it still reeking with his Brother's blood in her bosom, and put an end to her existence by repeated blows.

'Otto now succeeded to the Barony of Lindenberg. The murder was attributed solely to the fugitive Nun, and no one suspected him to have persuaded her to the action. But though his crime was unpunished by Man, God's justice permitted him not to enjoy in peace his blood-stained honours. Her bones lying still unburied in the Cave, the restless soul of Beatrice continued to inhabit the Castle. Drest in her religious habit in memory of her vows broken to heaven, furnished with the dagger which had drank the blood of her Paramour, and holding the Lamp which had guided her flying steps, every night did She stand before the Bed of Otto. The most dreadful confusion reigned through the Castle; The vaulted chambers resounded with shrieks and groans; And the Spectre, as She ranged along the antique Galleries, uttered an incoherent mixture of prayers and blasphemies. Otto was unable to withstand the shock which He felt at this fearful Vision: Its horror increased with every succeeding appearance: His alarm at length became so insupportable that his heart burst, and one morning He was found in his bed totally deprived of warmth and animation.

---

Happy Halloween!

Body: Compelling Intangibles.

from my journal:

Last Thurs. 10/18... before Mark and I went to see Unkle I hopped from one Barnes and Noble to the next and it was like the past. That moment of darkness when fall has finally fallen thick and dense and dead. Tonight it is familiar too.
Then I was at work then various B&N, sky shadowed and heavy and I knew that the B&N on Union Square was the place to be (even if it didn't have the books I wanted) because the light as so bright. Elsewhere, light seemed to have a film in front of it making it dusty muffling and sepia toned.

[a sketch of this]
The right Barnes & Noble. The Place to Be.

And now tonight I'm at a coffee shop on A (before I go to Guerrilla Lit - I hope to be terrified). It is very dark dim. Just the tiniest chandelier candle lights above and candles on the tables. I sit alone – far back – black coffee – candle – RWC3: The Church in the Roman Empire – Village Voice – pencil. Spoon. The place is dark wood and orange Christmas light for Halloween. And it's gray and gimy and rain and moldering outside. Christ. I feel besieged like always, but now I feel it most strongly.

[two sketches, one of the room, one of my table and its accoutrements]

There is a tradition in all this. More than I will remember but at the front of it: the Hamlet reading at UT in the 3^floor Theater directed by SMH where Judd was the Prince of rotten Denmark. Sometimes (rarely) at St. Thomas the Apostle. Then also at listening to Poison (a bit) by Laurie Anderson. The UT moment was potent. Another potent: Jr. High Drama Club. And the Nintendo Power rendering of FFII (so the beginning of 7^th grade. So Drama Club. I do believe that it has to do with October/November... and also lots of umbral dark pitch black dark and beaten wood.

In 7^th grade, Auditions at the Gym.

[sketch of this]
black ceiling
blue mesh net ->
volleyball ->
practicing ->
watching ->
auditioning ->
watching ->
black floor

Overheard here: "...and my body is deteriorating..." "no focus" "no focus" "only think, like, that I can initially connect to."

Two related things – strong for NYC. (I think) – have to figure out. It's dense. Hard.

1. from Cricket/ghoststories (clock, etc.)

[sketch of the below]
sewar grate
far overhead

This was the prison in NYC where a demihuman antediluvian was kept and he was so old that his emotions had all eroded and dissolved away. He was also deeply ambivalent about his captivity seemed a cathedral w. the grate cover above working like stained glass.
(Also: Watership Down)

2. from Flint: "The Flushing/Eastside. Bizarre.

3. from NYC? Or Europe? Out of time. More later.

Quick Schematic.

[sketch of this]
Neoclassical official
bldg.s and maybe a brick tenement or two
Italian-style
Romanesque.
Medici. Ominous.
Cold/Forbitting town square where the ghosts whistle by
Statue of
Death as a
Beautiful
Woman

Darby O'Gill and the Little People.
To Guerrilla Lit.

Body: Today is the Feast of St. Luke.