Friday, December 30, 2011


"whose blog is often of confessional and purple prose, must not throw stones at another."
-me, from Proofs Of My Circumspection
I quite like Anne Lamott. She's funny. She's religious in that reverently-irreverent/irreverently-reverent sorta way. She goes to church. She loves. She doubts. She fights injustice/unfairness/prejudice/bias. She fights with herself. She sins. She keeps coming back to God. She writes it all down. She's the urbane, artistic Christian (but, ya know, not one of those Christians) exemplar.  Her writings are often poetic, conjuring profound meaning out of the most mundane of things quotidian.

Unfortunately, for myself,  for my friends, and for my peers, confessional writing without her byline so often seems to me as, well, ersatz Anne Lamott.

It's not courageous. It's not difficult. It's the translation of emotions into words. It's masturbation with a keyboard and you're the only one getting off.  

Friday, December 2, 2011

sunday morning

Sundays are good days for me. I usually sleep in until 10:00 a.m. For the next hour or so I play my music much too loudly as I get ready for church. I wet shave (something I do just once a week) then shower. Extra care is taken when applying the anti-sun lotions that leave me the butt of so many uncouth observations popular with children and the homeless. "Speaking of butts, the last time I saw skin that color..." Teeth are brushed with more than perfunctory vigor and I leave the house smelling of just the appropriate hint of AXE bodyspray. Also, I get to wear real-people clothes--not the black slacks/dress shirt ensemble that shrouds my body 5-6 days a week. (I also like to schedule hanging-out these days because, well, I'm already put together). And then church, where I'm greeted with smiles, handshakes, and hugs--and the jewels in the crown: familiarity and love.

Well, life's finally feeling like a Sunday morning again. I enrolled in a couple psychology courses next semester (didn't exactly walk around the aspirations tracks too long before hopping on a new train). I had a good, honest talk with my brother, a couple encouraging talks with old friends and, hopefully, I made a a new friend too.