All These Things

In Case Of Delay

Wed, 25 Nov 2009 08:20:14 GMT

Almost got the first piece for the week ready. I've got a stack of tests to get graded before the morning, though. So here's a very interesting new take on an old song. I still remember the first time I heard an alternate rendition of this song, back in high school at that first retreat we took. The video below is almost as cool...

Leave Out All The Rest

Fri, 20 Nov 2009 17:27:38 GMT

Every year, our school brings in adults from various careers to talk to our students about future job options. Architects and teachers, nurses and attorneys: we usually get a decent range of possible vocations for our students to consider. In the most recent round of presentations, I sat in on a gentleman sharing with two dozen sophomores about the benefits of serving in the armed forces. I was curious to hear what he had to say; my father was in the Air Force, and my brother has been in the Army for the entirety of his adult life. What would his selling points be, I wondered, for encouraging students to consider the Army during a time of war?

He was a genial man, polite and positive. He briefly mentioned his growing-up. He made a fleeting comment about time spent in other countries. The bulk of his talk, though, centered on one thing: how the military is a great early career choice because it will pay for your college education. He asked the students what they were hoping to be when they grew up. He mentioned the current cost of college. And he mentioned that the military has a great program to pay not only for your college tuition, but also to reward you financially for decent academic performance. He gave a quality, convincing presentation, and paying for a college education is no small thing in our current economic situation. I couldn�t help thinking, though, that something very important had been left unsaid.

When the moment presented itself, just before he handed out free pencils and lanyards, I asked the speaker to elaborate on some of the things he had glossed over: how long had he spent overseas? where had he been? had he seen any combat? Turns out that he had been overseas for a number of months in places as various as Korea and Germany. He had seen combat in at least one major battle in Afghanistan. I wanted to ask more, to know more, so that the students could know more. I was a little shocked, then, when he effortlessly directed his attention back to the students by asking them what video games they enjoyed playing.

In the opening pages of The Abolition of Man, C. S. Lewis speaks of the importance of teaching our children just and proper sentiment, to feel right things well. He draws a line back to Aristotle, who asserted that �the aim of education is to make the pupil like and dislike what he ought.� While this might sound like indoctrination to the free-thinkers of our day, I believe the idea rings true. Consider the speaker�s argument: Education is an important, necessary, and costly thing; the military will pay for your education; so join the military and let them take care of this important thing for you. But is there a �better� reason to serve one�s country? And if so, what is it? �In battle it is not syllogisms that will keep the reluctant nerves and muscles to their post in the third hour of bombardment. The crudest sentimentalism. . . about a flag or a country or a regiment will be of more use,� Lewis asserts. I would say that replacing �syllogisms� with �an all-expenses paid education� would work just as well.

This, I think, is the essential thing that was missing from the speaker�s presentation: the appeal to something greater than fiscal practicality. The appeal to a paid education is well and good, but I doubt you�re going to top the hill of a distant land, guns ablaze, crying �this is for next semester�s English class!� Ideally, I suppose, you do things like join the military or go to college or become a teacher because you believe in something bigger than yourself. You do it because it is the right thing, not simply because it is obviously profitable. I do not doubt the speaker�s sincerity, but I also do not doubt that he knew who exactly he was talking to. Have we finally raised a generation so far removed from believing in any greater ideal that we can only get their buy-in for important things by pointing out the potential for monetary compensation? Have we in every way become a mercenary society?

Lewis calls those who are ruled by logical expedience alone �men without chests.� His hope, then, is that man will come to be ruled by right thinking and right feeling. I�m not sure how we get there from a place where sentiment is viewed as ironic at best and as fake or manipulative at worst, where the best reason for doing something is utilitarian benefit. Perhaps I still live in a fantasy world, but I cannot help but wonder if the man in uniform speaking to the still-impressionable young citizens fighting wars of their own left unsaid the one thing needing most to be said, even at the risk of it bypassing the heart only to go in one ear and out the other.

A Different Kind of Meal

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 15:40:02 GMT

I get to see a number of interesting online things by the recommendation of various and sundry people. The following video, "Western Spaghetti" by PES, was recommended by Douglas Coupland, one of my favorite writers. It's an interesting juxtaposition of the familiar and the dissimilar. So sit back and enjoy something a little different. . .

Don't Speak

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 05:37:05 GMT

"How do you begin to truly write?� the narrator of Tobias Wolff�s Old School asks. It�s a question, or at least the form of a question, that I have asked myself both recently and often. How does anyone do anything truly, especially when it comes to words, and especially at a time when words are digitized, weightless, and everywhere?

I decided, upon returning from Seattle, to take a break from the blog. Life and words overlap in strange and subtle ways in my life, with one always leading me back to the other. But after posting here for over five years, I was no longer sure of the point, which made me uneasy. How do you write about your life without reducing it to sound-bytes? How do you convey that there is more to life than the media you digest? Why is it so important to write about life in the first place? My trip to Seattle left me with the feeling that I was entering a period of transition, which meant that I needed my mind a little less cluttered than usual. So no blogging. Instead? More reading. Writing at home with pen and paper. Trying to be present with friends. Sifting through impressions to locate my lost self before trying to move forward. As I did this, two concerns became evident. I had to determine, though, if were they legitimate.

First, I noticed a potential imbalance between listening and speaking in my life. Jon Krakauer begins one chapter of Into the Wild citing someone�s fear of being �too long alone,� as if you could forget how to be around others. Is it possible, I wondered, to be �too long a listener,� to go too long without articulating your own story well? I firmly believe that people should be able to tell their stories to others without edit or interruption. But there isn�t much of an economy in the act of listening: asking a question doesn�t demand a question asked in return. Is it possible that I�ve gotten so used to listening to others tell their story that I have forgotten how to tell my own? Had listening made me lazy? Beyond that, I have also seen the listening ear abused, taken hostage by those who speak without filter or request. Witnessing the effects of such moments has pushed me even farther into a place where I do not volunteer my story. Still, �the grace of God is a listening ear,� the song says. I cannot help but wonder if the grace of God for me would be an open-ended question asked over a couple of drinks and answered over a couple of hours. Perhaps then I would work harder at prying open the lid that holds in my own story.

The second of my potential problems with words is rooted in fear. Over time, I�ve made a fine art of personal censorship when it comes to sharing my opinions. Fear often keeps me from writing and saying things that will make my parents think that I am sad. I let fear hold me back from saying or writing things that will make my friends think that I disagree with them. Fear stops me from saying or writing things that might lead my co-workers and students to misunderstand me. So I end up writing and saying an awful lot of nothing. We often hear of our words revealing things we did not intend, that our words can somehow betray us. Is it possible that I have somehow betrayed my words by leaving important things unsaid? �They that know have grown afraid to speak,� the ghost of George MacDonald says in C. S. Lewis�s The Great Divorce. I�m not sure what I know at times, but I�m well aware that I have grown afraid to speak for fear of saying a word that wakes a giant that will crush what little life I feel I might have left in me. Little honor, if any, is given for such a self-imposed gag order.

A few years ago, Frederick Buechner wrote a book about faith and literature. I quite like the title, which he lifted from the closing speech in King Lear: �The weight of this sad time we must obey, speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.� I suppose the Duke of Albany could say such a thing because every major character in that story was dead. Me? I�d like to think that my story is still being told, that it is still worth telling. I understand that telling it is a risk that I must take, that I can�t afford not to. Being too much of a listener? Being afraid to say what I feel? The weak and pitiful excuses of a coward, both. When the day is done, my words are all that I have. There is no spouse reading a book beside me, no child playing in the other room, not even a roommate playing obnoxious music a little too loud. I have my words, and I want to speak truthfully and well with them. If I do nothing with words, if I do not write them down and move them around and somehow set them free, I waste them. And in wasting them, in letting them fester, they stand in silent judgment over me, like little rocks on the verge of crying out. And that, I must say, I have no excuse to allow.

_________________________________________________________________________

�Anyway, I never talk about myself, and you guys never ask, and I�ve always respected that. But there comes a time when you either speak or forfeit what comes next.� -Douglas Coupland, Microserfs

One Final Image Before A New First Word

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 08:02:47 GMT

Talking About My Generation A

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 08:03:08 GMT

For as long as I can remember, I have believed in the inter-textuality of things. That things overlap, loop under and around, show themselves again where you least expect them. This is on my mind tonight as I sit in a living room of dear friends on Whidbey Island here in the last week of my fall break.

I blame Douglas Coupland.

One of the random highlights of my trip has been the jaunt to Vancouver, where I got to see a former student and also track down the newest book by Coupland, Generation A, which doesn't drop in the US until November.

The novel takes place in a near future where bees are extinct. Seemingly out of nowhere, five individuals in different places are stung by bees. They are quickly whisked away for experiment and observation to see what drew the bees to them in hopes of bringing the bees back (you see, a world without bees is a world without all kinds of things that required pollination). Somewhere in the story of the five, the story takes on the subject of stories themselves. As I read and finished the book tonight, I saw strands of Donald Miller's new book surface. I saw moments reflecting what I've read in Chabon's essays. I heard my own thoughts and heard the voices of my own friends.

"Every word we speak is autobiographical," one of the characters in the novel states.

I'm probably the kind of guy that says something is profound too quickly. Maybe there's a lot of profundity out there. I'm not sure. But I will say, here near midnight on a chilly October evening, that Coupland's new book says something vitally important, something about the nature of life and community and storytelling and the story that we are all of us telling.

"What is prayer but a wish for the events in your life to string together to form a story- something that makes some sense of events you know have meaning," one of the five says at the novel's beginning. That comment is followed by nearly 300 pages of chaos and confusion. But in there is something, there are many things, in that story that deserve thought and rumination. Life will be better with it, I believe.

Where the Wise Things Are

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 07:18:07 GMT

And so tonight I had the opportunity to see one of my all-time favorite writers in person, talking about a movie that he co-wrote a script for.

I did not read Where the Wild Things Are as a kid. I was stuck on Fox in Socks, honestly. I'm sure I'll get around to reading it now, though, it being only 20 pages. Dave Eggers tells me that it's probably one of the best children's books ever written. It is definitely the best-illustrated children's book. Seriously. He told me that as we stood around in the Hot Pot Doughnuts shop in downtown Seattle this evening after a packed house watched the movie. I mentioned away we go. He told me about his kids. It wasn't the longest conversation that I've ever had, but I haven't talked to many of my literary heroes before, so I'll take what I can get.

I got this vibe of Eggers that I thought about on the ride home tonight. He didn't say much about himself. I awkwardly tried to heap praise on him. But he talked about the movie and his kids and the 826 program. He's been dealing with fanboys like me for a decade, really. Me: awestruck. Him: "my daughter loves the book." Yeah. And there was a quiet calm that I would like to think wasn't boredom brought on by my nagging presence. And I thought, as I made the drive to my hotel, how I'd like to age like that. Level-headed with at least the visage of wisdom, a knowledge of what is most important (which is never the self).

Today, the second of my trip, has been a great one. Breakfast with a former student. Lunch with a former student. And meeting one of the most important figures in contemporary American literature. For me, it's been a day for the history books. And a day that has given me something more to think about.

Here's the Thing. . .

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 05:00:27 GMT

So here's the thing about Donald Miller's new book. . .

In about three hours, I'll be getting on a plane that will eventually take me to Seattle. I'll be visiting good friends from former school days. I'll see some former students. I'll read a lot. I hope to drive a lot. I hope to see a lot.

I hope to live well, really. I hope to live a good story. I hope to see things and do things that I don't normally get to see and do. Sure, it'll be about sleeping and eating and such, but it will, more than anything, be living. Living amongst giants, for me. The opportunity to see three of my favorite writers is a big deal. The closest I ever got to this was when my Dad and I went to a comic convention over a winter break and I got to meet Mark Waid (he who wrote The Flash better than anyone else). In so many ways, these writers have been as unreal as the stories they have told me through their books. And more a moment or two, they are going to be in-the-flesh real to me.

I want to come back with stories. I want to come back to talk to those around me here about what I have seen and heard and even hope for them. I want to remind my students that there is a broad world out there, and that it is good. And you can engage it and maybe change it, be a part of the conversation instead of always getting in on it when it's too late.

Miller's book reminded me of this. He also reminded me that the defining story of the last six years of my life, the story of the Class of 2009, is over for the most part. And now I need to seek another story, another narrative to live by. One that is grand and still fits into the Greater Story that God is telling. So I'm looking forward to this trip in hopes that I will gain perspective and a new kind of foresight, something that I haven't need much of these last few years.

So here's to living my story as well as I can. Can't wait to tell you more about it. . .

Let's Talk About Those Miles and Years

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 09:56:54 GMT

Sometimes, when you're reading a book or watching a movie, you can feel your heart shift. You sense yourself making decisions beneath the surface because truth has been spoken and there's nothing else you can do with it; ignoring it isn't a long-term option.

I didn't know what to expect, really, from Donald Miller's new book. I really like every other book that he puts out. In this one, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Miller has polished his writing style in good ways. He rendered great phrases and captures important scenes well. There's quite a bit of self-deprecation, which is to be expected. Some of the advertising about the book (even some of the blurb on the back) is a bit misleading, I think. But the book, almost a memoir about memoirs, rings true.

Your life is a story. You choose the kind of story that you live. If you find yourself living a lesser story, if you've "checked out" of the story God wants to tell through you, you need to rethink your life. That's the gist of the book. Miller gives his thoughts a narrative arc that works well. He had me hook, line, and sinker with this:

I knew a story was calling me. . . and once you know what it takes to live a better story, you don't have a choice. Not living a better story would be like deciding to die, deciding to walk around numb until you die, and it's not natural to want to die.

I'm not sure how overtly "Christian" the book is, which is fine. I also fear that Miller will turn out to be a single-adult version of John Eldredge. For now, though, Miller's observations and assertions ring true in a good way, a challenging way. It's more than just "carpe diem."

I'll try to get a little more down about the book and my reaction to it tomorrow. I fly out Monday night for about 11 days on the mainland: Seattle. It's something that fits quite nicely into the story God is allowing me to tell.

A Few Miles Down the Road

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 07:47:01 GMT

I'm six chapters into Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, and I'm quite enjoying it. It's a little different from his previous efforts. For one, it doesn't seem to be as dense, which is tricky because you want to feel like you're getting your money's worth. At the same time, Miller seems to have honed his writing skills. While he comes off as a little more self-deprecating than usual, he also turns his phrases really well.

One paragraph struck me as interesting this afternoon. In class recently, we've been talking about the problem of evil as it relates to the Christian faith. Miller brings the topic up in a roundabout way: he looks at viewing life as a story and God as the Great Storyteller. I like the image, mind you. It can, if you're not careful, make God sound like a glorified Shakespeare and we glorified players on a predetermined stage. Miller has a nice moment, though, when he says:

I was watching the news the other night, and they were still covering that story in Mumbai about the terrorists who went on a shooting rampage. The man on the news said that before the terrorists killed the Jews in the Jewish center, they tortured them. I had to turn off the television, because I could see the torture in my head the way they were describing it. I kept imagining these people, just living their daily lives, and then having them suddenly ended in unjust tragedy. When we watch the news, we grieve all of this, but when we go to the movies, we want more of it. Somehow we realize that great stories are told in conflict, but we are unwilling to embrace the potential greatness of the story we are actually in. We think God is unjust, rather than a master storyteller.

Definitely something to think about, if only to remind ourselves of the weight of the war that we wage each day, even when it feels like we're not fighting much of anything at all.

It Got Loud

Mon, 28 Sep 2009 08:18:53 GMT

Today I went with a guitar-playing friend to catch a relatively recent documentary: It Might Get Loud. I hadn't heard of the movie until about a month ago, when its trailer showed before some movie that I was catching by myself. I'm not a huge documentary-buff, but this one seemed to have legs: it follows a conversation between the Edge, Jimmy Page, and Jack White (all famous guitarists). It's a talker of a movie, really. Each artist tells his own story. Their stories also intertwine as they meet up to talk shop for one day and play some in the round.

I have to admit that the shots from U2's Elevation tour gave me the chills. It's an amazing experience, being at a U2 concert.

The movie is great and well-worth the cost of admission. It's a thoughtful movie, really. It's about creativity and where it comes from and how you handle it. It's about three diverse artists with diverse takes on things. And while I don't care for the style of two of them, I love what happens when they get together.

I am more and more convinced, as I once was, that movies and music matter. The creative arts are vital for our society. And they're just plain fun as well. Saturday night was a good one like that. Around 9 o'clock, PBS re-aired the Death Cab for Cutie episode of Sound Stage. Then it was time for U2 on the season premiere of Saturday Night Live, which I thought was actually quite funny this time around. U2 did an amazing job (even with Bono's "rapping" and strange moves). And today's movie reminded me, as last night's music, that there is much to be gained from taking the creative path.

Here's the trailer for It Might Get Loud for your pleasure. . .

Commencement of a Sort

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 08:32:02 GMT

Let the Reading Begin. . .

This weekend is the start of a pretty serious time for me. . . a time of great reading. Sure, I've got three more sets of tests to grade. True, I have one more week of classes. Of course, I have a whole new season of television to enjoy (and I laughed out loud at Survivor yet again today). But. . . Donald Miller's new book was at Barnes and Noble today. And that means that two months of great reading has begun!

For the next eight weeks, I'll be reading new books by my favorite authors. How many new books? Count them: eight. If you had told the childhood me that I'd be excited about this, he would have laughed in your face. But check this out: over the next two months I'll be reading new books by Donald Miller, Michael Chabon, Jonathan Lethem, Dave Eggers, Douglas Coupland, Nick Hornby (two!), and Chuck Klosterman. On top of that, add the fact that I'll be getting to see two of them (plus a third not on the list potentially), and you've got one amazing next few weeks.

And so this weekend starts Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. It will be interesting to see if he lives up to the promise of Searching for God Knows What. Guess it's time to find out. . .

Going Where the Wild Things Are

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 08:08:01 GMT

When I moved to Hawaii in 2003, I made the commitment to stay here over each non-Christmas break. My thinking? If I was going to have a life here, I should be here for making the most of it. And so, barring a trip to two great weddings one summer and one great trip to Europe over a spring break, I�ve held to that decision. It hasn�t been easy, really. In fact, it�s been pretty darn hard, making a life where everyone else already has one.

So I�ve decided that maybe it�s time to get out and about for a while, and my first stop is Seattle, Washington. For a good number of days, I�ll be hanging with some dear seminary friends that recently moved from one end of the state to the other. I hope to bookend my time with them catching up with some former students, seeing how things are for them. I�m hoping to see some beautiful sights, enjoy some open road. But there�s something else that has me truly, utterly excited.

On one of my first nights in Seattle, I�ll be attending a premiere for Where the Wild Things Are. This is cool in its own right. What is even cooler is that one of the movie�s script-writers will be in attendance and talking about the movie. What is coolest is that the writer is Dave Eggers, the author of You Shall Know Our Velocity!, the book that got me started as a reader of contemporary authors here in Hawaii. He is the man. The show is being sponsored by 826 Seattle, a tutoring service that Eggers helped start in San Francisco a number of years ago. I also hope to spend some time there seeing how things are done.

But (wait for it) there�s one more cool thing that I�ll get to do.

I will also get to attend an event at the center where another one of my favorite writers will be speaking. Yes, I will get to hear a live talk by Michael Chabon, known for winning the Pulitzer for The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay a few years ago. He�s also the author of Wonder Boys and The Yiddish Policemen�s Union. He�s also a big fan of genres and comic books. His essay collection, Maps and Legends, is an amazing set of writing.

And what�s also cool is that both of these writers (and half a dozen more of my favorites) have new books coming out over the next few weeks.

So maybe it�s a good time to be leaving, even if it�s just for a few days. I�m going to get to work a part of my life that I don�t get to work very often anymore. I get to revisit dear friends for the first time in years. I�m going to get to do some things I�ve only dreamed of doing. I don�t even know what to begin to expect. But I�m excited. . . very excited.

Bits and Pieces

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 07:06:00 GMT

So Thursday night television is giving me six hours (6 hours!) of television to catch up on! The new television season is upon us.

I preached this past Sunday at church. It was an interesting experience for me. Being in front of a classroom is one thing; being in front of a congregation is another. I spoke about various places the term �living water� appears in the biblical text (Jeremiah, John, and Revelation). I think I�ve lost the ability to accurately perceive things. I wasn�t at all sure of how things played out. And the praise you get afterwards is often polite at best. And yet today, four days later, a fellow church-member shared how they had been thinking more about what was said and how it had guided some thinking since then. I just don�t know. . .

TV is good this season: so far at least. How I Met Your Mother got off to a great start. It played the mystery of the mother well while also moving the Barney/Robin relationship in an interesting direction. Last night was a couple of new ABC comedies. The Modern Family was pretty sharp. The laugh-out-loud moment? the nod to the Lion King. Great timing. Cougartown was okay; nothing to write too much about. Tonight is the premiere of Flashforward, which is getting lots of buzz as a LOSt-clone. So far, so good for the show. There have been a couple of nice twists so far. And then there�s all the funny on NBC. This past week�s Parks & Recreation was funnier than the show�s entire first season. The Office was quality, as was Community. The SNL Update was pretty funny, too. Tomorrow night is the premiere of Dollhouse�s second season. And Sunday kicks off with the Amazing Race.

I can already hear potential discussions about Flashforward and destiny. Why did he have to put on his daughter�s bracelet? What if he hadn�t? Still: interesting premise. Much, much better than the botched show that we can all refer to as Jericho. The show will be great if they already know the ending. If they don�t? That could suck.

Survivor: Sabotage

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 08:33:03 GMT

Long before the passengers of Flight 815 crashed on a seemingly-deserted island, there was another show that focused on strangers thrown together in amazing circumstances. And while there are no smoke monsters or four-toed statues involved, there's something about CBS's Survivor that is still fascinating.

I finally caught the opening episode of this season, which is set in Samoa. From the opening shot of the waves crashing all around Jeff Probst (he was utterly lost in the foam) to the closing of the first tribal council, the show was riveting. And I'm a pretty jaded reality show guy. But, I kid you not, there were at least three times where I laughed out loud while watching the episode, which is a rare feat. This time around, the castaways are quite diverse (or at least the ones that stand out really stand out). One guy has taken it upon himself to all but sabotage his team by lying, pouring out canteens, and burning the personal belongings of others. He utterly made up a story about being from New Orleans and losing his one-and-only favorite dog to Hurricane Katrina. A classic moment of gameplay (though not quite as bad as Johnny Fairplay).

I must admit: I've been away from the show for some time now. Thursday night television is already pretty packed. But I just might be back for this cycle of the show. Interesting people making solid observations about stereotypes and the way that people work. It's part of what makes reality TV so interesting. At least, that is, until the Amazing Race starts up this Sunday. . .

Emmy's Horrible Highlight

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 09:23:18 GMT

Watching the Emmy Awards tonight reminded me of how much I love television. These are good days, especially with the new TV season upon us. The show had a lot of nice moments. One of the most fun ones, though, was when the presentation by some behind-the-scenes people got interrupted by this . . .

Funny and creative stuff. "Sofa monkeys" indeed.

People and Their Problems: Movie Edition

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 06:32:14 GMT

This weekend was one for grown men and their problems. Which, of course, made for a sad but quirky look at the things that hold us back and but make us human.

In Cold Souls, Paul Giamatti gets himself. Turns out he's has a role in a Russian play and can't seem to get his act together. So when he hears of an organization that can remove your soul and "store" it, he feels like that would be the thing to free him from what holds him back. The movie becomes a bit of an adventure, though, when his stored soul is stolen. It's an interesting concept, really. And the first half of the movie is both quirky and thought-provoking. When the soul get stolen, though, the movie tends to trail away from the quirky philosophy that I sometimes like. Still, props to Giamatti and others for crafting a movie out of the mainstream but enjoyably thought-provoking. I'll be sure to show clips of it in my class one day.

The other movie that I caught was one of the weekend's big releases: Steven Soderbergh's The Informant!. The movie, which looks like it should be a comedy, is really something else entirely. Don't get me wrong: Damon is brilliant, Soderbergh's style is sharp, and everything works in a certain way. But the movie trails off, takes a twist or two that was hard for me to follow. It reminded me of Soderbergh's Ocean's 12, which was unwieldy and only salvaged by Julia Roberts' spot-on performance. It's a real story, which is fine enough. It's set in the 90s, but Soderbergh uses music and title fonts that seem off by a couple of decades. Mark Whitacre's story is a twisty one, one that I can't believe actually happened. His time as an informant for the FBI was only part of a much bigger thing going on. I wonder if it works better as a book, really.

You can check the Cold Souls trailer here. And The Informant trailer is here.

Optical Prime

Thu, 17 Sep 2009 16:32:01 GMT

The folks at Relevant Magazine post interesting links often. Today they linked to a site of cool "optical illusions." Like this one:

You can check out the rest of them here. And, yes, it's a link to Woman's Day. Heh.

"Can't Remember to Forget You"

Wed, 16 Sep 2009 07:39:38 GMT

Today marked the tenth anniversary of the the shooting at Wedgwood Baptist Church. While I was not there that night, that evening and the events that happened in its wake will probably stand as one of the most life-shaping events of my life. I have a difficult time believing that so many years have passed, that so many things have happened since then. It was a galvanizing moment in many ways, brining people together in ways that have lasted for almost a decade.

I haven't actually talked to anyone today from that time in my life; I haven't been sure how to broach the topic with friends who were there or with friends who weren't and who remain at the church all these years later. I did kind of talk to my students about it this past week in the context of the problem of evil. It was a weird moment, things real but so far gone.

You can check out the original 48 Hours news piece here. The segment starts at the 3:50 mark.

You can also check out a recent news article from the Star-Telegram here. The article has a link to a slide show of that evening with voice-overs by Pastor Al and a relative of the gunman.

To the right is a news segment from a Fort Worth channel about the shooting. One of the women interviewed is the daughter of some of my closest friends in Fort Worth. She seemed barely a high school students all those years ago.

Avalon: Reassurance

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 15:27:52 GMT

The first thing that you'll notice about Reborn, the new album by Avalon (after the sunflower, that is), will probably be that every song on the playlist is only one word long. That terseness sums up the album quite well, really. 10 songs, many of them a good bit less than 4 minutes: it's not a showy album. At least not on the surface, that is.

Upon listening to the album, you might be struck by a couple of things. One: the arrangements are lush in a nice way. Not in the same way that many of the group's best ballads are lush, mind you. But the sound is full: lots of nice guitar, good drumming. Second: the vocals are strong and dynamic. The arrangements play to the group's strength of tight harmony. Tight, like terse, is a good word to describe the album. There aren't many (if any) wasted musical measures on the album. And yet each song feels complete, each song carries a complete thought well. And the songs are well written. Will they be memorable? Time will tell on that one, really. It depends on your preference. If you like the quirkiness of A Maze of Grace, this album might really be for you. There are no hymns here. There are few "great builds" as with many of their big hits.

Honestly, upon early listens, this is probably the album that the group needed to make. There's only one original member left, and it would be very easy for them to go the utterly safe route. Which would have been nice on one level. But this album works well to honor what has gone before while reaching for a fresh sound and a fresh take on things. What is encouraging is that the lyrics are unabashedly Christian. Not much ambiguity in what they say and sing. And that's alone is reassurance enough.