the walk

So I’m walking the hallways with God. Not in the way you’d walk to someplace but the way you walk when you really have to get to know someone. There’s lots of doors, solid at the base but as they stretch up they fade into the wall so you get this idea that someone’s scrubbed them out of existence. Of course it looks perfect, what do you expect, I’m with God; everything is perfect

I know I’m not dead but that thought lingers in my head because, let’s face it you don’t really walk with God much while you’re alive. I’m no Enoch, I know that. God is of course big. Not big like fat or imposing, but big like he’s super-inflated. Constantly moving- like everything inside him wants to get out but he’s holding it in by sheer force of will, the power of God. Contained chaos, you might say. You might say a lot about God, but most of it doesn’t matter.

The way I’m keeping up with God I could brag about it, but he’s probably just slowed himself down for me. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll get to review my life and see how I did. I didn’t even see the car coming, to be honest. There wasn’t even a pause between impact and where I am now; the impact practically sent me here. I wasn’t driving anywhere in particular, more driving just to go. The American dream- it doesn’t matter where you are so long as you’re going. 

The hallway takes on a much more distinct feeling, a sharpness, like it had finished rendering, like when you finally understand something and you’ve got it forever. Seeing this semi-heaven is like riding a bike and I wouldn’t ever want to forget it. Anticipation for something special- walking with God, clarity in direction, etc. God turns to me and whispers in that booming omniscience of his. 

The paramedics had wrested me from the mass of steel and plastic that was my car. I don’t exactly realize how I got back here but here I am.

post 10

I’m so ready for the olympics. I mean, peak of performance in athleticism and human accomplishment right there. No doubt- China is a terrible, horrible place in terms of human rights, decency, and so forth, but Olympics are Olympics.

I’ve got quite a bit I’m working on so hold up while i get it all together.

ali

“If they can make penicillin out of moldy bread they can sure make something out of you.”

temporary setbacks aint a thing

I tell you man if you knock me down i’m coming up swinging faster better and stronger than ever you better watch out. It’s better for you to take the fall than risk me getting back up.

time to start punching people in the face

I’d like to link to the article, but it contains an unfortunate amount of inappropriate language, but that aside, it makes a terribly good point. We’ve taken a good amount of the violence out of our society- that is, bullying, fist fights, bar brawls, etc. They still happen, of course, but they’re viewed as social disfunction rather than a release. All of our violence now comes set to a beat or put up on a screen.

Think about Fight Club. It was so wildly successful because it hit a nerve with America. People who watched it realized they wanted to go beat people into the ground, then when the person taps out, shake hands and go on their way. It was real. It was a connection that people don’t have right now. Think of the popularity of UFC, violent video games and media. It’s because people have this violence hole in them, and we’re trying to fill it.

I advocate punching people in the face, but only those who deserve it. The kind who come into a (non-theme) party dressed the exact same way as five of their friends. The kind who stand with their arms crossed and their head turned up. And then, appropriate beat downs should take place only after repeated offenses.

I’m a generally very nice person, but seriously, some people need to be taken care of.

reading room for a reason

seriously? how hard is it to just SHUT UP in a room called the reading room? That reading, to me, implies no chit chatting (even with your girlfriend), no talking on the phone, no coming over to me and asking if i can watch your stuff, no playing music, no tapping on your desk, nothing but reading.

people can be awfuly hard to put up with at times.

i am the modern man

in the library once again, surrounded by Burroughs, McConkie, my own notes for accounting, my planner, my ipod, my idea pad. who knows what bizarre meta-plasm i have running through my head but surely it no more means this than anything else: I am man, for I am all that man can be.

i just realized

add an ‘n’ to the end of tacoma and you get tacoman. this is no coincidence and i believe the sole reason i was called to serve there.

library

so im stuck down here trying to figure out accounting. i’m no good with it. it’s just… unintuitive, irrational and such an odd thing. but hopefully i’ll learn better. don’t imagine i’ll finish up anytime soon though.

no mind

I’m writing the great american novel. i don’t know what it’s about, but the basic idea is the great trip to vegas and back.  yes it’s a wild and crazy life, no i don’t want to recreate fear and loathing, it’s told in three parts by three major characters or so i plan, and it starts with me meeting a girl in line and retelling this story. it will continue, of course, after i return home.

look forward to it, the greatest literature there ever was.