2000 Miles

So that last post was written on the road. I made it home in one piece, and even enjoyed the rest of the drive. Not too bad. I could probably be a truck driver, even.

I got home at 330 on Wednesday, and bathed and clothed myself, and then I rode my bike to work because I didn't have the cash to take the bus. It was gorgeous out, and I couldn't help smiling on the way to work, happy to be out and that I didn't even need a jacket. Wonderful, unpredictable Denver weather.

So then I got off work at 1030 and went back out to the street to get my bike, which I had carefully locked up and taken the seat inside. And it was gone. Nothing remained but the little velcro tie that wound my masterlock up and stowed it away in the pouch under my bike seat, which I clutched to my breast as I sat down on the dirty street corner and just cried. I know it could have been worse, I know I could have gotten mugged, or raped, or killed, but I loved that bike. And I won't be able to afford to replace it for a long time.

So! If any of you silent readers are in the Denver area, or happen to check out ebay a lot or anything/anywhere else anyone would pawn a bike, here is the description, and I'd love the help looking.

4-5 year old Trek 4300, in near perfect condition. Cobalt blue/silver/red, shimano components, missing a seat. 19.5" frame. Lamp on the handlebars, no water bottle. It has a sticker on the body, just under where the water bottle would be, from a bike shop in Mishawaka, Indiana, where it was purchased by the original owner I bought it off of two years ago.

So, thanks for your help, everybody. Hope everyone has a good new year.

Singing Songs About Myself

I find that I stay awake much better on the road if I work on stories. So, I flesh out characters, think up surprising plot twists, and arrange marriages and murders in my head. Not only is it incredibly satisfying to get all this pseudo-work done, it also makes the miles melt in nothing flat.

So we had Swart Christmas today, and Jericho came over for it. Tami and my mom guffawed again about big ass ham, a joke that never gets old; a dog the size of a horse came and galloped around and around on my grandparents wood floors. Money was literally thrown at me, and I ate some of the best cheesecake of my life. My aunt and uncle invited me up to live with them in Grand Haven this year, which honestly is incredibly tempting. My four hours in the mitten was incredibly involved.

And the best part of my whole day is right now. I am sitting in a Steak and Shake off of I-80, just over the Iowa state line. And I am eating a frisco melt, and having a vanilla malt, and I am dangerous. I forgot how great this tasted. Steak and Shake is my husband. And new rule for life- don’t stop at the gas station and ask the little attendant from India where the Steak and Shake is. They’re vegetarian, they never eat here, and they probably give you wrong directions on purpose.

VIVA FRISCO!

1001 Nights

Idea #21 (Not Too Late)
words and music: Detweiler
recording: OHIO

Till we lay these weapons at your feet, Lord
How long, how long
Till we call all hatred obsolete, Lord
How long, how long

Till we walk like lovers thru Bethlehem
How long, how long
Till the lion lies down with the lamb, Lord
How long, how long

Too late
I know it's not too late
To wrestle with this angel
Higher and higher
Don't let go
Higher and higher
Before we know
How does it end
How does it end
We're all riding on the last train
Trying to find our way home again

Till we wash the blood from the hands of our fathers
How long
We're all sisters and brothers, sons and daughters
How long, how long
Our eyes all shine in different colors we cry, Lord
How long
Our dreams our tears are all the same by and by, Lord
How long, how long

Too late
I know it's not too late
To climb up Jacob's ladder
Higher and higher
Don't let go
Higher and higher
Before we know
How does it end
How does it end
We're all riding on the last train
Trying to find our way home again

It's not too late
****

Christmastime is here, happiness and cheer...
And I find myself in the midwest again, with more than my mindset. The last few days have been spent in balmy Indianapolis, and good grief it is different from Denver. I arrived on the 22nd, after 15.25 hours in the troops (support!), via I-70. And let me say, it was a short day, solstice buddies. The longest night of the year, even.

Tomorrow I will go to the mitten, as McDavid refers to it now. Dan and I bought cheap gifts today, and I gave a massage to Eunice. I've been playing video games, and laughing with my bro, and eating a lot. And attending extended family Christmas parties, where I get pelted in the neck by John Hay Jr.'s wrapping paper attacks. There are lots of children, and fudge, and divinity, and loud people yelling and being way too close to each other. My family doesn't know how to interact in any other way. And there are entirely too many of us. And oddly enough, there was no caroling this year.

I had this whole thing planned up about Gene Autry and Elvis and how ridiculous some things are, but what it comes down to is that I just want Christ to come. In the same way that he came in a manger, almost 2010 years ago now. I want him to come in this moment, then again tomorrow and finally at the end of all things, the beginning of all things. Perhaps, like the greek epics, even en media res. The creation, the advent, the consummation and the eschaton thundering together in mighty chorus, telling the old old story. Telling my story, where trees grow on both sides of the river, and hold forbidden fruit. The story that starts in a garden and ends in a city. And I am there, and God is there, and he is the only light. The light of the world.

Young Astronauts

So, if you'll remember a while back in my post about Xena and Gabrielle, which can be found here, I was talking about planets and names and such. I made a vague threat about what might happen if the next object was named Buffy, in an allusion to the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Well, it has happened, my friends. Don't believe? CHECK IT OUT.

http://www.usatoday.com/tech/science/space/2005-12-19-strange-solar-system_x.htm

And, for the piece of resistance, the inconclusive evidence to end all inconclusive evidence, the man behind the mayhem, Caltech's Dr. Mike Brown, is a Creationist. Hats off to you, sir! Hoist that Bible and pop in the 10th Anniversary Collector's Edition DVD set of Xena: Warrior Princess. I'm right behind you with the chips and my plastic chakram.

let me share you with myself

I just discovered, via my other blog that I share with a lot of friends (Midwest Mindset) that two dear friends of mine from college are now engaged. If you are interested in the Fox-Coon adventure, you can check it out here, complete with a photojournal of the event.

In other news, my friend McDavid kills me. Really. To see the greatest picture of all time, go here.

And finally, for a bit of my own sharing...

I applied to graduate school this week. How do I feel? Excited, well, excited and scared, to quote little red. But most of all happy. I have to believe I am capable of more than low end jobs for major corporations. Not that I am complaining currently, I in fact really enjoy B&N so far. I love being downtown, and watching people on the bus, and working with the people I work with. Micheal and I are planning a wedding (for tax purposes only) and I make sculptures with the dried milk on the steam wands in the morning and I like looking at Julia's ears after she comes in from the cold with all of her 28 piercings hanging from them. I'm happy. But I believe that there is more than this.

Also, as many of you frequently ask about this arena of my life (no, I don't have a boyfriend, not that arena) I played the guitar last night. And I liked it.

friends near and far

As I move about in life, I make friends, and then they move about. I've been corresponding lately with my very dear friend Emily, whom I had the pleasure of getting to know while I lived in Indy. She is part of a unit that has been mobilized in Iraq; as a member of the National Guard, her job is to send up little weather balloons that tell ballistics people how far to aim their weapons. I am grateful for the time in which I live- even though this war wouldn't be possible in this capacity 200 years ago, I also wouldn't be able to keep in touch on a daily basis like I can now, either.

More than ever, I am convinced of the journey, and not the destination. Though we should try to learn from mistakes, I'm quickly seeing that regrets are pretty much useless. That I may be appreciative of whatever time I have left is all I desire, and that I shall keep my wick trimmed and my lamp full of oil is all that I hope for myself. This is but a blink of an eye, and in an instant we shall all be changed.

business checking accounts make me want to barf

ok, so I was about to start this off differently, but there is a tall, skinny blond chick with a maroon suede jacket and a leather satchel standing 2 feet away from me, swaying/jerking her hips to the trashy 80's music. Only in capitol hill...

Speaking of which, I'm down at Diedrich, looking like sporty spice, sippin' the mate, and until about 20 minutes ago I was the only lady in the joint. About 15 men, ranging in age from kinderqueer to uncle fag, were scattered about, a few in couples but mostly solitary. But apparently 9 pm on Friday is go time down here.

I'm trying to study for my business class but blah blah business. That's all I have to say about that.

I pretty much got my portfolio compiled tonight for fuller, though, and buddy burned my discs so the tunes are all ready as well. Now I just have to go down to office max and pay 20 bucks to print off a jillion bits of my creative life thus far. Looking at in en masse, I realize how much I've really written. And question it, and feel a tiny bit good about it all. Some of it is bad, but some I honestly can't believe I did, because I like it.

So do I have what it takes to be a grad girl? Only time will tell. I was thinking tonight about why people are bigger now than ever. I mean, maybe we're programming ourselves to be bigger. All of our food is packed with chemicals to make it bigger, so we will buy it instead of some other food. Now we are bigger, and who will buy us?

Every va-halley shall be exah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ahlted

So I've been listening to Handel's Messiah all day, reminiscing about my performances (3 years worth) of the masterpiece at good old HC. Here are some of the highlights, as I remember them:

1. Ben Kendall singing the tenor solo; the subject line for this posting will always be burned into my memory with his clear tone.
2. Dr. Fulbright directing my freshman year and throwing the baton during the performance- twice- over her shoulder into the audience when things moved into the allegro stage of the game.
3. The year Dr. Killian directed, because he would speed up "Refiner's Fire" until Janice K. turned purple and almost passed out. The smile on his lips and the gleam in his eye was priceless.
4. Remembering, even now, our cues to stand- "the glory of the Loo-(stand)-oord, is risen upon thee" booming from the contralto.
5. The fact that I still remember about 98 percent of the words and melody lines.
6. Realizing in that sacred, dark space, as the chamber orchestra coaxed the Pastoral Symphony from their wood and strings, how lucky I was to be in this company of people, singing this music to end all music, preparing for the arrival to end all arrivals.

RVHS Drama Club Presents....

I've been thinking about my theatrics lately. High school and college stage events, on and off- somewhat sparked by my late observance of the current film adaptation of the Broadway hit "Rent," but further encouraged by my friend Jericho's blog.

I highly recommend you read some of the highlights of my HS theatre career, courtesy of one who knew it best, here.

Other mishaps that weren't included, but are equally priceless, would be my attempts at assisting direction on middle school productions the latter three years of high school. All I have to say is, "Tok, tok, tok..." followed by hasty shoving, flipping of lots of fire-hazardous fuses, and cursing when the 5000 year old curtains got caught on some piece of set and ripped further.

And never let Sully behind stage during the production. Micah camp almost broke his neck in Seven Brides, and my kneecap is the one mentioned in the above link. She moves things.

it felt like Christmastime

Hello. Welcome to December.

Today I found myself in Manitou, walking Flower in the chill of the early morning, talking to Elahav and Zaccai over the creek as they leaned out the window. Some moments capture rightness so much that it's downright blasphemous to talk about them.

I loved this town. I still do. Being in Manitou fills me with the best of the bittersweet, at the close of one chapter and start of another. I just hope I always have this place to come back to, this dog to fall asleep on my feet, this trust of walking home after dark.

I hope this Advent that I'm really ready for everything that is born.

hold me closer, Tony Danza

This year, I think I'm really going to feel Christmas in my bones, and not let it pass me by.

I've been listening to lots of good music, mostly the Postal Service lately, cranked loud enough to deafen me in my still-wearing-an-old-starter troops. I feel like a little gay boy, like all I need is a white Jetta and to be cruising around some metro some where, answering a vibrating cell phone and smoking menthol cigarettes. But I've also been listening to James Blunt, who kind of sounds like elton john and t-rex's love child, in the best way possible. And I listened to that one song I hate this morning, the one about "goodbye my lover" or some such trash, and I didn't hate it at all. I even sang along. And speaking of singing along, I bought Rachmaninov's Vespers and have been listening to Bogoroditse Devo at all levels of volume, remembering when Katie was alive and we all sang it together and you could palpably feel the Spirit of God descending on us all.

I got really scared last Sunday when I thought about Miss Kobelski for a minute and couldn't remember what she looked like. It almost made me cry, I think if I had been a crier I would have. I don't want to forget what she looks like, ever. I want to remember every little detail about her face and hugs and voice and how she walked and her laugh and the way she died. But already how her hair was cut and very specific things get fuzzy in my mind, and it makes me a little sick.

***

At the moment when you stop holding on to things is sometimes the right moment for you to let them go, or the right moment for them to come back to you. And you can never really tell which one it is until after you've stopped holding, and it all actually happens. But I am okay with taking it as it comes for a while, and seeing what happens. What happens with work, and Buddy, and my car, and Mr. Reilly. It's all good to me.

jumping out, standing up, sitting still

Happy belated thanksgiving!

Well, mine was good, bad, and ugly. I should have known just to go back to bed following what will hereafter be known as the Einstein incident of 2005. I went in to pick up an application for temporary work, and the dude-with-bad-teeth behind the counter asked if the app was for me. I looked at him dumbly and said yes. And he said, well, he wasn't sure because a lot of women had been coming in for applications for their kids.

I AM 23 YEARS OLD.

So even if I had turned into a fornication station at the first available opportunity, I'd have a nine year old applying to sell toasted bagels on the corner of 9th and Ogden. NO! Idiots.

SO that was how the whole thing took off. And then there was eating, and uninvited trips to DIA, and trucks once again failing to start, and drunken fights, and getting hit on by irish dudes, and lots of ruined broccoli salad eaten by wild dogs. On the whole, it was a pretty legendary holiday.

Other good things include finding out finally that it is really my starter that is bad. Really, Brakes Plus. You had the car for a whole 24 hours and all you can do is pick your nose and tell me you don't know what's wrong with it. And I go out and bang on the starter with my tire iron and drive it down to Advance Auto Parts on east Colfax and they bring their little grocery-cart tester out to the troops and tell me in 5 MINUTES that it's the starter. And they were free. And then I paid 144 dollars for a starter. And Stephanie's Jason is going to come install it Sunday, compliments of a couple of massages from me. Cheap city, people! And I am the mayor. And the key to my truck is the key to the city. cheap, cheap, cheap. I sound like a baby chicken!

And, even though I thought I was going to sell tools for a living, turns out maybe I'm just going to be a massage therapist. Wild Oats wants me, and so does Duane and Tatum and Enrique. And Matt (irish dude) is starting up a non profit, and you better believe he wants me. (*wink*) maybe things are starting to look up after all.

Only in the mitten

This is when I remember why I love Michigan. The following was pulled from Yahoo! News.


High School Student Sworn in as Mayor

HILLSDALE, Mich. - Michael Sessions began talking about running for mayor when he was a sophomore in high school. He realized that dream before he got his diploma.
Sessions, an 18-year-old senior, became the city's youngest mayor on Monday when he took the oath of office. The crowd included city residents, photographers and dozens of video cameras — some from news agencies as far away as Russia and Japan.
"The first couple of days are going to be rough, I think, on me. I've just got to get acquainted with the job," Sessions said earlier Monday as he took reporters on a tour of the city, which has a population of 8,200 and is located about 100 miles southwest of Detroit. "My confidence is gaining a lot each day."
Sessions beat Mayor Doug Ingles, 51, by two votes in the Nov. 8 election despite Sessions' status as a write-in candidate.
Sessions, who used $700 from a summer job to fund his race, already has appeared on the "Late Show with David Letterman" to read the Top Ten list titled "Good Things About Being an 18-year-old Mayor."
Richard Moore says the national spotlight on Sessions means more exposure for the community.
"I think people at first were like `What's going on here?' but I think as people got to know Mike, they realized he's not your average high school senior," Moore said. "It takes a special person to run for office at any age."

jonathan

Time does nothing to change this.

Every time I look into those eyes I see another part of who I am- like I am graced with a reflection, not identical, but complimentary. And when that smile is aimed at me, I am really gone. I listen to friends and trusted advisors- those who know us well, but not as well as I. Walk away, they tell me. Perhaps I alone know differently, or perhaps I am the only one blinded to the truth. But I can no more get away from this than I can get away from myself. There is something about us that is bound up together and out of my control. And I cannot help but love, and I don’t mind. But I will accept this for what it is, good and bad, treasured and terrible, beautiful and barren. Seventy times seven, and this is unity- that I not turn away when things are hard, but draw close. And love even as He has loved us, without reserve, not in spite of our shortcomings, but because of them.

A Jonathan is all I hope to be, a source of comfort and laughter.

what if they mated

I just saw a totally gay, skinny version of Brian Simms pass me on the sidewalk. Not even kidding, like if Charlie and Brian had a baby this would be it. Put Brian's face on Charlie's body. That was unreal.

Well, I'm sitting here on the streetcorner at 9th and Corona, in a fine example of what John Hay, Jr. would call new urbanism. I live one block away, and I am waiting on my laundry whilst sitting outside and stealing some free wireless. On this corner are the following establishments: a framing shop, a salon, a real estate company, an Einstein's, a King Soopers (Kroger to all you midwesterners), an ancient building housing an elementary school, a liquor store and an ace hardware. I like this corner a lot. And my laundromat is in the alley. And one block over, wireless can also be had in the neighborhood coffee shop, but I'm not thirsty.

So, speaking of this ace, I applied/interviewed there this morning. Am I cut out to sell tools? It's a real possibility, friends. And in other news, I need a starter for my troops. WOOHOO.

Until next time, here's wishing clean sheets to you.

Purple, I mean white, majesties

Hello all!

Well, this morning I find myself with a spectacular, no, I say legendary for you Scott, view of the mountain here in Breckenridge. My aunt and uncle are generous beyond measure, and have invited me up for the weekend.

We watched Luther last night after going to some sort of steakhouse for dinner; I was talking to them about Church history and how important I think it is for Christians to know about - just the history of our faith, and what it's taken for us to get to where we are today. You know, with churches the size of airports and all. So I was telling them about this film comissioned by the Lutherans that's only about a year old, called (how surprisingly) Luther, about the reformation in general but mostly this remarkable man. Watching films like this puts everything into perspective for me- when I feel like the church is floundering, it has, in truth, floundered much more than this before. At least people can read now.

What it comes down to is this: I am convinced that the truth will endure the corruption that is married to it in this world. At every last moment when it seems that all is lost, the Spirit in all her glory will rise up those who are committed, even with their very lives, to her and to the true body and to the person of Jesus Christ. And what does not kill us, friends, makes us stronger. To carry around in us this death until His return will transform our very souls into that pure, blameless Bride. Keep the oil in your lamps and the wick trimmed, for He will come, and there will be noise; there will be glad. And a perfect bed.

someone saved my life tonight, sugarbabe

Friends! Romans. Plebes.

What does it mean? What does it mean when everywhere I go I see Mandie Sanders look alikes? I feel like I am being stalked by a figment of my own imagination. But seriously. She is at Walmart, she is at church, she is at the coffeeshop. She is everywhere. I wonder where she is, really.

So then there's an update on my troops. I no longer want to kill myself, or support my troops, or do anything but kill my troops. After 24 hours at the shop and much angst, it was given a clean bill of health and a sound spanking. Apparently, there is nothing wrong with my car. It is simply afraid of the dark. It maybe thinks there are zombies lurking, perhaps. Car! Get over yourself. Zombies don't exist. Well, maybe.

And the final news is that I am uncontrollably stuck on Elton John these days. And I am going to Breck this weekend. And apparently, Brian did want to date me after all.

Until next time! Support! Reconsider! Unite!

well well well then

Friends,
I hereby solemnly swear that I will not take my kids to a coffeeshop and believe that the rest of the public there is responsible for babysitting them because I a. want to use the internet or b. just don't feel like dealing with them right now.

I will also not name my kids Ritalin ( I really think that's what she just called this kid) nor will I say inane things to them like, "You don't really want to be jumping on other people's furniture, do you?" because actually, yes, this kid absolutely does.

I think I'm going to keep living in Colorado for a while. Or at least not move away in the winter. It's the best time to be here. I also want to kill myself a little with rockclimbing and stuff like that before I leave, or how can I ever prove I was here? I also think I'm ready to get a real job. I'm just about done with all these fake jobs.

Love
Liza

i want to thank you

A couple of nights ago, I read the creation account in Eugene Peterson's The Message. I never cease to be taken in by the awe of those first few chapters of Genesis. I mean, really. THe creation of the world was spectacular.
Afterwards, even though I should have absolutely been sleeping, I had to get out of bed and find my Children of Eden highlights and listen to "Let There Be." I will say that no matter what the theological point of view of the listening party, this song captures that spark, that beginning of beginnings.

STORYTELLERS
In the beginning...
In the begininng,
God created the Heaven and Earth
Without form--void--darkness.
And God said:

FATHER
Let there be!

STORYTELLERS
Light!

FATHER
I woke up from a curious dream
I dreamed a perfect garden
And there were whirling shapes
And swirling sounds
And I wasn't lonely anymore
I woke up from a wonderful dream
Woke, full of energy and hunger
And now this hunger will be stilled
And my emptiness be filled
As I set about to build
My dream

Let there be, let there be
Morning
Let there be
Evening, day
Let there be
Let there be

STORYTELLERS
Let there be
FATHER
Waters, weathers, winters, wonders

STORYTELLERS AND FATHER
Let there be
Land and

FATHER
Speeding comets with hearts of ice!
Spinning planets with rings of fire!

STORYTELLERS AND FATHER
Cosmic sparks
And quasars and quarks
And suns convulsing
Pulsars pulsing

STORYTELLERS
Let there be

FATHER
Let there be

STORYTELLERS AND FATHER
Let there be

FATHER
Whales!Snails!Sharks!Larks!
Apples trees with dappled barks!
And granite mountains and flaxen plains
Giant lizards with tiny brains
Flourescent fish and crescent worms
And a million bugs and trillion germs

STORYTELLERS
Let there be

FATHER
Let there be

STORYTELLERS AND FATHER
Let there be
(And God saw, it was good, it was good)
Let there be, let there be

FATHER
It's not enough!
It's still not enough.
There was something more in my dream
Something could see it and share it
What was it, though?
I only know I wasn't lonely anymore
There is one more thing to build
One more void that must be filled
I'll make creatures I'll call children
Shaped like me!

FATHER AND STORYTELLERS
Let there be, let there be

FATHER
Something, someone
Small and skinny
Clawless, furless
Finless, fangless

FATHER AND STORYTELLERS
Let there be
Man who can

FATHER
Wander over my flaxen plains
Wonder up at my granite mountains
Count the stars and wish for wings
And hold a tool and think of things
And search for answers he cannot see

STORYTELLERS
And dream of glory

FATHER
And worship me!

STORYTELLERS
Let there be

FATHER
Let there be

STORYTELLERS AND FATHER
Let there be
(And God saw, it was good, it was good)

FATHER
Let there be

STORYTELLERS
Let there be

FATHER AND STORYTELLERS
Let there be

STORYTELLERS (AND FATHER)
And the father breathed into his children the breath of life
(let...)
And the children became living souls
(there...)
And the father gave to his children a garden
And called the garden...
Eden
(be...)

STORYTELLERS AND FATHER
Let there be!

I am invited! I am cool!

Friends,

I have recently joined up with some other buddies on the following blog:

Midwest Mindset

I went to school with many of these friends, and it is sure to be a good time,
so go congratulate her!