Hands on a Hard Body is a rather enchanting documentary about a contest in which people put their hands on a truck to win it. Sounds easy right? Just watch. It’s hypnotically good.
Archive for August, 2008
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.
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.
it’s an addiction to clever fiction fixin to make the making of an exciting scene taking from what it was to what you think it should mean in between certainly the truth and an error a moment of terror freed by the compliance to rules and conditions too popular not to mention like how you must do these things and this is how you must be seen it’s a beautiful thing if you don’t you’ll get pushed off like an engagement ring after the breakup a shakeup of unrealized proportions to make sure you’re okay we’ll send in the persons responsible for reassurance and placid recuperation a preemptive insurance against flaccid retaliation but when it comes down to brass tacks it’s really not all that iot’s all good like it should you just thought and that’s the problem
