sonnet 130

so much of humor is finding the below-the-surface or unexpected relations between two things, especially two disparate things. it can also be a rather effective type of argument, supplying just the sort of associations (contravening all reason) that support your position. said hyperbolically and with a wink, your opponent has no recourse to reason: to beat you rhetorically, he's gotta come up with a better joke! I came to a newly-betrothed friend's aid recently in her disagreement with her mother over her choice of a birdcage veil over the more traditional gossamer affair.

my text:

"tell her that traditional veils are more suited for cheesemaking and that you will not be walking down the aisle with cheesecloth draped over your head. when michael [the groom] lifts the veil, he is opening the cage to beautiful and rare songbird--not unwrapping some Gouda"

I'm told that the birdcage veil is gaining favor.

--

I'm going thru Shakespeare's sonnets now and I was struck by the parodic humor of sonnet 130 (especially as it prefigures our contemporary reflexive sarcasm). for anyone who's completely missed the poetic conceits when reading something like Dunne's "The Flea" (thank Jove for commentaries), sonnet 130 is there to commiserate.

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
   As any she belied with false compare.

sonnet 29

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

doing Christianity

others' thoughts about the doing-ness of virtue, even when it doesn't come "naturally."

Aristotle

"Virtue is a habitual way of acting -- not an emotion or a capacity." [a paraphrase]

Shakespeare

QUEEN

    O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.

HAMLET

    O, throw away the worser part of it,

    And live the purer with the other half.

    [...]

    Assume a virtue, if you have it not.

    That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,

    Of habits devil, is angel yet in this,

    That to the use of actions fair and good

    He likewise gives a frock or livery,

    That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night,

    And that shall lend a kind of easiness

    To the next abstinence: the next more easy;

    For use almost can change the stamp of nature,

    And either [ ] the devil, or throw him out

    With wondrous potency.

Modern translation:

QUEEN

     Oh Hamlet, you have cut my heart in two!

HAMLET

     Then throw away the worse part of it, and live all the purer with the half that's left. [...]

     Practice decency, even if you haven't got any. That monster, custom, which eats away

     one's sense of evil, has this good quality: it also makes the practice of good deeds a

     habit that becomes natural. Stay away tonight, and that will make the next abstinence 

     somewhat easier; the next more easy still. Repetition can change one's normal nature
     and either accommodate the devil or throw him out quite effectively.

C.S. Lewis

Do not waste time bothering whether you 'love' your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him.

N.T. Wright

We are hamstrung by the long legacy of the Romantic movement on the one hand, and Existentialism on the other, producing the idea that things are authentic only if they come spontaneously, unbidden, from the depths of our hearts. Frankly, as Jesus pointed out, there's a lot that comes from the depths of our hearts which may be authentic but isn't very pretty. One good breath of fresh air  from the down-to-earth world of first-century Judaism is enough to blow away the smog of the self-  absorbed (and ultimately proud) quest for "authenticity" of that kind. 

Dr. Wright (my pastor)

I don't want your mind; I want your body!

in 2011, I

second-guessed my stance on miracles when, on my way to work only an hour after learning of my grandmother's death, I saw a rainbow over my office

spent my 25th birthday on catalina island riding bikes with my brother

ran my second marathon in 3:27:54 with a 7:56 average pace

visited 4 states back east and two states in the northwest

broke my cousin's nose on a river-rafting trip

flew in a helicopter for the first time

hiked (6,400' ascent, 22 miles RT, and 19.5 hours on the trail)  to the top of mt. whitney (14,505 ft)

hiked to the top of cowles mountain (1,593 ft) the night after mt. whitney and proceeded to fall off a rock, landing on my face, scraping my forehead and mangling my hands and knees. finished the hike while stanching blood with some borrowed kleenexes.

enjoyed three amazing concerts with friends (one that found me in the 5th row at the hollywood bowl)

listened to so much new, great music

dyed may hair dark brown and black for most of the year

completed 8 units of college german

kept up weekly volunteering and church attendance

jogged ≈ 730 miles

became an official member of the Church of the Nazarene

abandoned plans for missions and seminary

hypo-critic

"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.  

can. not. stop. watching. this.

Sabrina & Salem: Together Again from Melissa Joan Hart

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.