happy haiku friday

pastor never-nude

pitches for the razorbacks

how i love rem sleep

and now for something altogether different

if you read this blog (poor soul) and live within shoutin' distance, feel invited to sinners and saints' 3rd annual saint patrick's day party. we're going to be drinking da green beer and bumping and grinding at the wilcox's place from 7-12 tonight. if you need directions, feel free to shoot me an email at jeffkelliegentry@yahoo.com.

suck my white ass blogger!

on my way to the library

cabot street is becoming my via dolorosa. it is upon this way that i live and, i suspect, it is upon this way that i will die.

my first stop along the way is the cinema, where i hope to connect with Ken the wunderkind magician. over the past several months we've shared snippets of conversation about dogs, accounting and running off to join the circus. though i'm no marco the magi, i suspect that one day our roads will converge. he's out for the evening, so i leave an invite to our patrick party and forget to mutter a prayer.

immediately thereafter i make my way across the walk. an impatient yuppie, vigilantly indifferent to state law, honks and i raise my silver mug in a mock toast. as i pass the italian restaraunt renowned for its peas, mikey (or is it mickey?) appears and compels my second, altogether unexpected, stop. i remind him of our plan to ferry drunks and he promises to join us. as i continue to make my way to the library he chooses to hobble along beside. he reminds me of his shredded tendon and i call him a cripple. after addressing me in the same manner that i address dizzy, he tells me that he has an interview tomorrow at the family dollar. as soon as i break into a smile and offer him a pat on the back he tells me that he has also retained a lawyer. apparently mikey is planning to sue the commonwealth for services that shouldn't be rendered. i shake my head. one step forward, one step back. in the midst of such inertia the only thing i know to do is pray, so i lay my hands upon mikey's grubby sweatshirt, petition God to open a door at the family dollar and leave the other stone in the stream unturned. after "amen" i embrace this bear of a man and realize, in that very moment, that i love him in ways not only ideal but real. he hobbles off and i finally make my way into the library.

but i don't get through the lobby before running into a recently shorn "moppy." he bemoans the sad state of affairs that is bennett street, speaks longingly of past interactions and forwards his blessings as well as his phone number to the tockeys. for my part i confess that sexual sobriety is one of the constraints of Christ that i actually appreciate and remind him that though the coffee has gone cold (quite literally by this point, damnit!) i will still be around. after all, i am landed gentry who works in the area and helps lead a local christian community. upon mentioning the latter i look for any hint of interest, but am unsurprised to see none. with that i fold his number into my wallet, pick up my cold cylinder of coffee and make my way up to the quiet area.

where i now sit, avoiding the work to be done while still doing something that is undeniably important. God, i do not have the energy to walk this road nor the discipline needed to take it step by step. i need your energizing Spirit to keep my feet moving, your incarnate Son to continue revealing the way and your faithfulness to underwrite my faithlessness as i stumble down this via dolorosa.

memorandum from captain random:

if the scourge of prostatitus has truly passed, why do i feel like i'm sitting on a golf ball?

books on tape are a panacea to dull workdays (recently completed: confederates in the attic and be cool. in answer to your question concerning the latter, yes. currently residing in the ghetto blaster: the hundred days by patrick o'brian).

leanne has been haunting our hood lately and, to be honest, i don't mind. this is a bold statement coming from a man who does not like to open the circle of trust or expand his sidebar. but i get the feeling i might be doing both at some point in the near future.

dizzy is a mouthy little bitch. that's all i got to say about that.

marrying an elf is the best thing i ever did. aragorn has yet to lead me astray.

you guys can have your "march madness" if you want, but please...keep your sweaty, gym rat shit out of april (the month in which they finally open the gates to the elysian fields).

i preached in class today. i've preached in front of bible college students and seminarians for six years and it still scares the shit out of me.

after i stopped trembling, i found a way to slip in a little narrative about the pimp-driven life into my sermon. how 'bout them apples?

i've been reading a lot of richard russo lately. can't get enough of him. ditto lauren winner and stanley grenz.

congressional hearings on steriods?! in the midst of making sense of a budget that completely omits war spending, debating the future of social security, and considering whether or not to piss on the senate's long standing tradition of honoring dissent through filibuster, they are going to spend hour upon hour discussing which syringe punctured who's ass in what major league locker room! unbelievable. if you want to press criminal charges, empower the f.b.i. if you want to regulate baseball, lean on the owners. if you want to do govern well, do some real frickin' work! yes, this means you, john mccain. okay, inhale, exhale. inhale, exhale. phew.