the phantom menace opened up to critical review and much ado in the spring of 1999. the month was May. the day may have been overcast. that was entirely possible. a foreshadow to what was to take place. the movie and the day were long overdue. up till then no box office film had garnered so much attention. people slept in sleeping bags for days outside theatres before the premiere even opened. many took time off work and rearranged schedules. it was nuts. not many will remember this but that same spring, just a month earlier we were introduced to the Matrix but it would take the rest of the year to leave it’s mark on our collective pop corned wonderment as the Star Wars machine was in full warp speed. it had entered hyper space and would not be upstaged. it was a planet smasher for sure. however that summer the space opera would leave a black stain on my everyday. for some reason I was swept up into the getting in line early, purchasing overpriced tickets and braving hordes of crazed Lucas followers too. I would see the movie before the rest of the world. no Cineplex or Famous Players would keep me from reliving my boyhood films gone past. I was a Jedi and I had returned to the story. I was striking back and with little sleep and my overpriced ticket in hand I entered the galaxy with my good friend Dwayne Broad. he too had an overpriced ticket and was swept up in the excitement. he cared less. when you get swept up you never do.
he was my Chewbacca I was his Han.
here’s the thing: there was a wrench in the droid. we had entered the cinema late on opening night and found just two seats left in the entire cinema!! they were not together.

the only one we could find was front row far left. the other we couldn’t locate.

we wondered what had gone wrong? how could this happen? we had a plan? I am not sure if we got talking to people or were stuck in the concession lines with golden topping or real butter decisions but we were definitely not sitting in those seats. I had a bad neck and Dwayne refused on principle alone. so we did as any other would do in a similar situation we cozied up on the floor at the rear of the cinema, backs to the wall and waited harmlessly for the lights to dim and the epic to begin. we were paying customers in nobodies way just minding our own business.

carpet sitters. *editors note. i would not have thought this a good idea under normal circumstances due to stickiness and grime and unmentionables found on theatre floors but it was the movie of the day. i wasn’t turning back.

it was at this time that the darth vader of managers told us that we were in the “handicapped” section of the cinema and would have to return to our seats.

front row far left. and the other we couldn’t locate.

like I said, I had a bad neck and Chewbacca refused on principle. he may have roared at this point. I told the manager in a hushed tone that “these aren’t the seats you are looking for” as I waved my hand in front of his determined face. Dwayne with his itchy light saber finger mentioned that “ I was handicapped” and should be allowed to remain here and he should do everything in his power to make me comfortable. maybe go out and get us some lawn chairs or drag in a small couch. I would then explain that if by chance a wheel-chaired person came in we would without question take our seats but until that time and under no other circumstances would any contingent, empire or you will keep us from seeing this film. the dark lord was not our father and was not wavering. with voices raised now and another manager called in we storm troopered out of there vowing that this action was unlawful. possibly against our human rights. Chewbacca had mentioned getting a wheelchair and I may have tossed my popcorn in disgust as we were escorted out of the building that night. we stayed in the parking lot for what seemed like minutes. I wanted to climb a fence and peek in a window. we were missing something great. chewy climbed into his dodge millennium falcon and roared expletives out the window. after kicking parking lots rocks I against all fibre in me climbed in as well.

as it would happen we contacted famous players a few day later and explained our tragic story. they told us that they had “already heard something had happened in Kingston” and they were investigating. in the entire province of Ontario our episode and a broken down projector in a faraway city were the only glitches to an opening night we were told. they wouldn’t comment on which disturbance in the force was more troubling.

a few weeks later 12 complimentary movie passes and an apology came in the mail. till this day Dwayne and I still get friendly glances from the management in that cinema.

my mom goes on and on about lots. she has ranted about the proper attire for children in any season and raved about world hunger both with equal voracity but never has she been more vocal about the “beauty” of wicker furniture. I never would understand the attraction. it always seemed more folk art than furniture, more suspect than sturdy and more puzzling than practical. she owned occasional chairs, semi occasional chairs, benches and nightstands and even had a wickered ottoman of which tangled many a good sock of mine. in her world she would have slept on wicker beds, kept her clothes in wickered dressers and reclined on the twisted knots of rattan. she found comfort in it.
a peculiar partner.
she could relate to it openly and admire its simplicity. it was light I would give her that. a small child could be hired to move it if you decided on relocating. a wagon some string and a destination. next to air it was easy. she would say it was ‘all weather’ this is important in friendships, automobile tires and patio furniture I agree but not sure I want my lazyboy in the backyard in inclement. regardless she would be a faithful lover to the woven wood. I would try hard to appreciate it and would continue to have a hard time understanding even baskets; their smaller distant cousins.
of those she had many.

the fresh smell of carpet and new cars and toast wake me up. rain in the summertime does as well but writing it down feels well…grandiose, pretensious and boring. drive in movies in summertime smell as good as freshly fallen rain i would hazard. i may take in the Mustang in late july with a seventy percent chance of inclement. i will post the findings.

either way this is not a take on smells or summer pastimes or carpet. it is a post on the filling nature of a piece of bread. i have eaten bread that has been a meal. large dense oat filled goodness. freshly baked bounty of flours and brans. the red river variety at the wolfe island bakery tastes as such. sometimes i want to sneak a loaf of white Wonder onto their shelves just to lighten their day and have a customer find it in disgust. oh the fun i want to have. i am a sucker for the free bread before meals at fine dining establishments. this comes from a belief that i may go without. get as much of that in ya before the main course comes knucklehead and then wonder why there is no room for the grilled trout almondino. growing up with three boys and bare cupboards and the thought of starving forced our hands across tables at all costs. there always was enough and i have had to learn to chew my food again and savour every bite as i still peer over my shoulder from time to time for fear of going hungry. some mouthfuls still go down hard. habits that need to be mended.
jason seabass is on the south park diet and turned his nose to a breaded sandwich of tuna yesterday and i told him i could live without the bread. he said he would miss the toast. i said there is so much more to breakfast than just bread. there is porridge and cereals and bacon for cornsakes. and try the yogurt. they say it is good for you. freinds of mine wake up to cold pizza and kentucky fried and marvel at the filling nature of those refridgerator finds. they will live long lives i am certain. they glow. you may be what you dont eat. for what it’s worth.
when i am syndicated i will pick my words more carefully. until then this is my take.

the latest much anticipated third installment of hatch hits the streets today. the triple threat issue is being folded, stapled and assembled in the ranch. here is how you can help. consider being a supporter of the written words. submit stories and tall tales. share it with your friends who enjoy creative writing. join our storytellers writers group or just send large amounts of cash to help with toner, printing and publishing costs. or if you have a large work horse of a colour printer to donate let us know as the one we have is growing tired and is showing its age. we may need crayons to produce the next covers. and most of our cast refuses to stay inside the lines.
this is the closest to shameless promotion you will read in this space. but what can i say? i am stoked about this adventure in grammar, sentence structures and pasted photos. and i am proud to spend my community dollar with all of those involved. i before we and the two vowels go walking.

and if you are in the neighbourhood this weekend we are hosting a book fair saturday morning. tables of gently read novels, epics and pageturners will be had. we hope to create a fund for a kids creative writing camp next year. hatchling may be had. here’s hoping.

i must admit i like the new kayne west song. in my view it is a headstucker. the dj in my head keeps playing it. steady rotation. the the the makes you stronger. youtube it now. what are you waiting for? i must admit i love Geico commercials and the show Heroes. i must admit presidents choice chocolate fudge crackle ice cream could be the best kept secret in the frozen food section. the peppermint hint makes me smile in my sleep. i must admit i am sleep deprived and my emotional life has dozed off from time to time leaving harm in its wake. i must admit i carry alot of stuff that isn’t mine. i must admit i have a selective button that arrives in a box full of narrow. i must admit i like to be alone at times. i must admit i miss working with my hands. i must admit the summerside hockey fiasco last week made me wince. wes anderson films, vonnegut books and the philadelphia flyers will all win best in show in my estimation. i must admit my kids are living in a tired world in need of salvation. i must admit loneliness, depression and fake wood products make me mad as a hatter.i must admit i am in need of a new wintered hat. i must admit admission is freeing and opinionated. i detest the latter. however i wont back down or go soft on the ice cream recommendation. it will change your world. get up right now and drive miles if need be and pull some from your grocers freezer.

and just admit it made life a little lighter.

i set my clock back one hour and i ended up in peterborough. dr david blondel was there and so was the one called Vyn. a board game of Community was played. there was some bad feelings and a meeting was had. some unity and love made everything better. and then for some reason we ended up at a Boston Pizza and ordered a killer carivore cake and some nachos washed down with sodas. we spoke of halifax 2010 and wondered if the boys from sarnia were getting prepared. someone said Kalhoun had been working on the posters.
the east coast will not know what hit them. a gospel cavalcade of cosmic proportions. we all agreed. i wrote some things down on a napkin and shoved it in my pocket. i took a photo in my minds kodak brownie cameras eye. chris wore his blue jays cap, dave wore what only could be called thrift store savy and jason seabass wore a hint of irish spring, a flight jacket and a good time. we all awoke and wondered if we had been dreaming.
and for some reason in all of this a guy named Aubrey made a guest appearance and demanded the front door.
being a guest in the liftlock city i did only what i could. i gave it to him. goodwill all around Vyn said. it was the only thing i could do. it was the most magical day on the earth. daylight savings time. one extra hour. ours. a gravitational gift from God to make all that is wrong in the world seem just a bit more right.
dave said we could wake up early and open our presents.

i see what you mean. i understood once i saw. i tasted the fragrance. i am beginning to think that the senses need some overlap to fully be engaged and for us to grow up patched not cracked.we need all the help we can muster so i may mix my senses. an experiment perhaps. i figure handicapped from the birth channel and then left to have our six senses developed under the wings of half baked birds we will struggle. most never leave the nest and some fall from heights to their damage. flapping aimlessly trying to make some sam hell out of what we see, hear, taste, smell and touch. cant you see that will hurt you if you touch it? what seems confusing may in fact be perfect sense. i once tasted chili that made my eyes run and my ears ring. someone laughed at my dis ease and i grimaced in puzzlement as my nose began to run. a throat eyes, ears and nose problem began and i started to believe the person to be touched. i refuse the red meated bean bowl at all costs. won’t get fooled again as i have seen the noise it makes. i may have bean hatched in the day but not yesterday.

i had to see you cry to understand how you felt. i hear more clearly when i open my eyes. i need to touch your greif more often to fully taste what is happening.

“smell the pain michael.” an arrested development deflection as the sensury nature of this take has left me lost and not sure where to go.

fumbling back to the nest i suppose.

today someone told me that they had an anal fissure. another showed me their dislocated finger by bending it backwards from north to south with what should have been a steady stream of pain. dean dropped in an hour later and lifted his shirt and showed me where they took out an “ooozzy cyst” and this caused him to refuse lifting any boxes during his move today. his medical professional deemed this prudent.

timely.

i was far from the hospital and we were not shooting an episode of ER. but this all took place. you would think this was a M.A.S.H unit and i was hawkeye pierce. each time i see alan alda in any made for tv show or even in a hollywood bit part i refuse to take him serious. put him in the war in a smock half drunk and he becomes beleivable. he cant walk down his street without notice. a corner store or stop to get the mail must bring about conversations he wished never happened. i can relate some days. “hey have you seen klinger or frank burns lately?”

stare off into distance and feign amusement.

i know people who have their whole lives unfolded in conversations while getting some fresh vegetables at the grocery store by the cashier. others who just want you to know everything personal and may miss a few steps in the “lets get to know you department.” either way i guess it is necessary as we never want to carry all that around unattended. things unattended usually come out on their own sometimes. i am of the camp of selective. wait for the right time and right person that can be trusted with that part of my life. surrendering any ground is difficult for some. some have it all locked up under defensive measures. forts that can’t be breached. ships that won’t be unmoored. i meet these folks from time to time as well. some days i see them in my bathroom mirror.

my take for today.

i must get back to the front as hunnycut just dragged in a person with multiple heart wounds and a trick knee and frank has just got his arm stuck in the food processor.

each day for the rest of my life i may jot something down. it may be here, in a journal or on a tiny peice of foolscap shoved into my pocket or placed in one of my many “safe places”. that may not be the correct spelling of the word lined peice of paper but i could careless…care less.

i am not giving up my safe places.

my aunt nancy answered some skill testing questions for me today as me and birdog castle are doing a selfcare workshop together. it asked us to ask someone we knew that could vouch for us when we were kids. see how they saw you. ask them what they remembered. my aunt was around at such a time and she isnt too far gone to peice it all back together. she submitted a glowing report and filled in some blank spots. she gave me a set of dressers for a wedding present with some wisdom in each drawer. i think of her each time i search for socks. if i ever were a stray she would search far and wide to match me up again. this i know.

the idea was to consider including some of those kid things again into your daytoday- your weektoweek. she said i always had an interesting “take on things” and that i would make people feel special. she also said i liked the colour blue and dreamed of driving my grandfathers camaro, fishing and roadhockey. these are fact not fiction.

steel
sky
periwinkle

in that order.

she then mentioned some silly about making cookies in the shape of A’s and that i had a cookie jar i was fond of. at this point she may have dipped into the cough syrup as this may have been yarn spinning perhaps about another neice or nephew she begat.

either way i grew to love cookies and i plan to jot down my take on things and regain some sense of wonder. it can’t hurt.

i may even go out and find a creek to wade in.

my new bike tire hit a sewer grate and almost ate me alive.the guys who make bike tires need to be talking to the guys who make sewer grates. people will die and all this could have been avoided with just one conversation. then if that wasnt enough a guy on a motorized lazyboy chair wanted to race me from a stoplight. shave said she knows this guy and he is just making a statement being all disabled and wishing he were a car like the rest of them. and then if that wasnt the best some guy posing as a large girl beat me to the top of the hill. an east german perhaps. she was sleek and shaven. i saw his… her legs go by me while i was sprinting ahead of the lazyboy guy and noticed the areodynamicness of well shaven legs and thought i could never ride a yellow bike no matter how fast it went but will admit i am a sucker for the clean shaven legs.

but alas that was my second third of this day i speak of. my first three began with a foot race to a moving bus. a bit of cleaning was had at rustle, some reading and some arguing with bob north and an impromtu visit by larry and darren (this writes itself) and his other…who needed some old bedframes we had for making their crap carts. whatever gets you through the life i suppose.
breakfast was special K and bananas and lunch was st.vinnys macaroni surprise with wholewheat bread and some bananas. two danish pastries were washed down with some aqua. i am not certain why i am telling you this other than it has been nearly a month since i have blogged and i was getting tired of checking in to see if i had written anything.
i hadnt.
a string of days found me uninspired or at least with more in my head that wasnt fit for print.

thelma told me she was still fighting with wendy but should be over to volunteer soon as her tour of duty is over at the vinnys. i nodded and told her sounds good as i prayed for reconcilliation under my macaronied breath. robert insisted he pay but was escorted out as it was free and there is little currency for nothing. very small coins wont even be enough.

about this time last month we adopted a few fruit trees and some urban gardens for the ranch. we dug some holes, made some plans and are excited about growth around here. a load of excrement was delivered and we looked skyward for rain. the transplanting seems sucsessful but who can really tell? most growth happens in places you dont see. underground. the metaphor is thick and brother jared just smiled.

i am concerned as of late with how little in control you are when God begins to dig around in the dirt of your own soul. farmers fair little yelling at plants and even the best seers predict very little in weather patterns and end up with poor records of best guesses. i watched pain birth sadness then begat stretchs. it was hard to watch. i am glad i did. growing up hurts but required
where sin and forgiveness and living with other plants is concerned. it is unavoidable. those who don’t make efforts rarely poke their lives out of the soil. (it is only one letter away from soul. soil that is) they may even grow upside down. see the orient. (may be an obsure reference used by kids in the seventies and eighties when asked” how do you get to china?”) it is well….it is well (hold it) it is well (add crescendo and choirmembers here) with my soil…

sorry i have been less than clever for a good part of 30 days.

however i am still here not sure what to do next and what is around any given corner. i do hope for a harvest of good pressed down and turned over joy to invade the soil of my heart and wish all the very best things for those around me. even the jerk on the lazy boy and the guys who make hazourdous sewer grates and the east germans who scream by me on sleek two wheelers, and the hole diggers and excrement movers. funny thing is that i may have gone this whole time without mentioning the teenagers.

hmmmm.

yes,even them.

i came in fifty sixth place yesterday on the ride home. i would have faired better but my pant leg kept getting caught in the chain and my front tire was really wobbly. where is an elastic band when you need one? each time i ride my bike home i create a bunch of scenarios in my thinkbox. sorta like that commercial of the guy on the bus ..you fight, you turn up the music, you shake your junk. i laugh each time i see that one. if i knew what i was doing i would put the youtube link right here. it would be so great.

yesterday was tour de france (front road) and i was fearless and represented switzerland. i raced ok. i was not that far off the leaderboard and may do better when we start the hills. may they all be down. there were serious riders in the field yesterday. they had helmets, spandex and proper gears. and focus. no one wanted to talk they just kept on riding. some even had holsters for their pedals. there needed to be a few more people on the roadside handing out donuts and plastic cups filled with sports drinks but again it was just sillyness. only something i cooked up to make the ride home more managable. if i stop less to talk to people i know or pick up loose change i see i think i can crack the top 20. i will probably have to tuck my pantleg into my sock and get more than 4th gear working. maybe a sponsor or two. i hope there is no drug testing as i drank half a bottle of expired cough medicine the other night. i am not sick but really hate waste or throwing anything out. did i mention the wobble?

here is the list of items i rescued at yardsales. all of the items will be redeemed and cared for. nursed back to contributing. i like that in a used item. the ability to help out again and make a difference. all except for the four or five sliced toaster i bought. it came from a smoking home. when the wonder came up on the maiden voyage my home began to smell like a bingo hall. it disturbed all members of the clan including the two cats. and they are pretty easy going. i washed the outside. it was clean as the board of health but mother told me in a frightened voice “it came from within.”
there was nothing that could be done she said.
she was right.

at that time i wondered if i had turned the seller of the unit inside out would they have smelled like marlboros and four packs a day and maybe then disuaded my purchase. because upon payment she smelled ok.

buyer beware

so for lack of inspiration i submit this list of finds. mr perfect found some collectible glass wares, some priceless hotwheels tracks and a stuffed goose and an osprey.no joke. one time we found a guy selling a nine foot python on his front yard. it hadnt been stuffed as it was still breathing and coiled. it scared the sam hell out of me. that is something you dont plan on seeing downtown kingston at 9am on a saturday.

ever.

mr perfect also found some vintage teak chairs that he plans to “flip” but they were nothing compared to the coolness of the taxiderby. the talons and down on the birds were incredible and for the morning that was a few days ago i felt as though these two feathered foul were in our command and if asked would go out and scout the land ahead of us for great deals. of course the goose may not have cooperated but seriously the osprey would have. that is what they do.

oh like you know anything about it?

the list

*6 used hockey sticks. three rights and two lefts and 27 pucks.
*4 badminton racquets
*6 birds
i am now in the market for a net.
*3 board games from the 70s. boobytrap and trouble. for some reason i have a weakness for this “popomatic classic” and can not seem to walk by them. i need help. also in that find was one with the amazing Kreskin (google him yourself)
*a wooden storm door that may fit my house.
*a mighty ducks undershirt. sized kid
*one dragonfly door knocker
* a three speed bike you would kill for (vintage with whitewall tires)
*5 bee mop heads (dont ask)
*one large starving artist oil painting. it may be dutch. i didnt really care as i needed the frame for another starving artist who is part dutch.
*one green d handle fireking coffee mug
*2 old tobacco tins. which smelled fine.
*one roy rogers is my pal pin..circa 1950

and lastly and leastly, the soiled toaster that i plan to return. i really wish i could remember where her sale was. i may need to send the bird out ahead of me.

and if anyone out there knows where i can get one of those leather wrist bands i could really use one because the talons are making a mess of my arms.

my butcher asked me the other day if “i was allright?’ he said i looked like i had a heavy heart. i gave him my best springsteen and told him it was hungry and agreed with his cut.
i purchased some ten year old cheese, some cold cuts and something to char. it may have been beef. i couldnt be sure as the sun was in my eyes and my butcher was in my grill. i was off balance.

years ago when we didnt live in fenced yards and knew our neighbours butchers were as good as bankers. they would help out if things got rough in the life department. maybe send you home with some hamburger or a potroast with a nod and a wink and a ‘i know how it is look.’ the apron could tell stories.

ribs

mr perfect had just sold me some best of the west dolls (i mean ‘action figures) and let me know that he would have a steady stream of gently used housewares for the trading post of rustle. he is a steady stream of a freind to me. he used to work at mac’s milk, in a group home with kids and would place ads in the newspaper looking for old sports trading cards when he was just a teen. over the years he has collected and sold over a million cards! he comes from good stock. he is a cut above the rest.

lean.

his old man was a tin man. not like the dorothy and yellow brick road sort but a aluminum siding salesman.he would throw in a storm door to close a deal and would drive away with his briefcase open on his corinthian leather eldorado seats. he died the year i met him. some days i know he misses him as you only get one da. the rest just stand in.

meat.

a fella came by the ranch the other day and needed to tell me how rich his parents were. he said they bought a house for 70 thousand dollars years ago. it had red bricks, many rooms and chandeliers as big as arms spans. he would go on to show me. they then turned around and sold it for 100 thousand he marvelled. he needed to tell me “that was like a 40 thousand dollar profit you know!” i nodded and made my way back to my study and looked for a calculator.

cooked.

today we rolled out our new barbeque at church. the arc of the condiment. it is a black beauty complete with wheels and electric starts. nothing fancy just functional. the way we roll. it is a broilmate. it will be a companion of cooked meats and other items for many summers to come. the slow burn of this community is a meal served whole. God loves a good burger or tube steak.

it will serve many.
may it be so.

the matriarch of Days Road turned another year older yesterday. nice work. a day before she was carded at an establishment that will not, and should not serve minors. she graciously pulled out her drivers license , her Fabricland super saver discount card and a few shots of her teenagers and grinned. i am certain other items of note fell from the bag of choice that day. it was a thrift store turquoised number with a small cigarette burn in the lower left corner. vintage. the zipper didn’t work but the chromed buckle was worth the 4 dollar purchase.

style never sleeps.

on the very same day the heir to the rogers throne turned 5. he is a boy of few words. a strong willed silent type. one day i hope to become pen pals and have conversations with him. i am a sucker for a challenge. he thwarts me most times. james and i and a few others took in an art exhibit at rustle on sunday. yes yes i know art show at rustle is kinda like poetry at monster truck mayhem. redemption knows no limits. we will become all things so that…

sharing the same Mayday is one of my dearest colleagues in life, dr.bones luchuk. he also celebrated his bellybutton. he has aged well and for the most part is the very much the same person i met some ten score and odd years ago but with a better car and less hair. we met at a runway fashion show in kingston. he was an aspiring biology model from Milan. it may have been millbrook. i am not sure. we have laughed and cried together and have constructed much. we have a love affair with the frozen game, slapstick and things of God. if we were giddy school girls we would stay up late nights bedside cutting out pictures from the hockey news of future draft picks to the NHL for pasting in our lockers while watching three stooges movies. we would agree the guy who replaces Curley is not that funny and the leafs draft system is lacking. he is a feeler like myself. the weak sensitive type. a big girl. some of his emotions have crossed wires. it amuses me to lengths. he is a family man of the deepest stock. i stand inspired some days.

the day also marked another colleagues birth into the world of blogs. i was at the birth. a midwife of sorts. i hid the child in a basket of expectancy right here in these bull rushes.

http://wrestlingfear.wordpress.com/

…man i wish i knew how to put in an earl here! that exclamation point needs to be there. how hard could it be to put a blue click here? a link for crying out loud.
you must go down to this water and see the little one. a keeper for sure. he shall grow up to be king.

it could happen.

the pure heart pictured above spent her day in the caring of others. even to the last hour. she supped and wept under amazing grace skies last night and began her four score and tenth year with a restaurant cooked meal, her kids and William Wilberforce. when the movie ended and her birthday came to a close i could sense her well up. she is, and was full. those who know her can attest. the movie was a “sunflower production.”

fitting.

we walked out to skies full of dazzling fireworks. i checked the calender to see if somehow i had walked into July first through some portal on princess street. i had not. i stared with wonder and a dose of popcorned puzzlement.
it was as if God himself had sent her a card penned in indelible ink. it may have fell out of His bag.He was carded for kindness. He knew she needed it.

He is funny that way.

lately in an effort to be inspired i have been quoting my friends and anyone within earshot that mutters amusement. it seems that they have had much to say as of late. and being the noteworthy person i am i have been writing some of them down. this past weekend i took in a company course in weslyan theology and i must say the good professor, the skipper and mary ann made life on that island good for my soul. my heart was strangely warmed. last week i lodged a steak knife into my thigh. my loins were strangely warmed.

another story altogether. nothing quotable from the entire episode.

so here are my findings from the course. the reverend ashton asked us not to take notes. some paid no never mind. some slept, others played video games. you know who you are. he told us he would hand us compilations of all the materials and powerpoints and a few dozen of his favourite hymns of the faith by the lesser known, but equally important charlie wesley who penned between 5000-7000 sing alongs. i have remembered singing three of them. a few hits. he also spent a great deal of his life on a horse. (the wesley not my teacher) a cowboy of the musical variety.

roy rogers

here is the list from my “not” notetaking. fifteen of my favourites. the first bunch are from the good professor dr. david ashton. am sure he has letters after his name. i have misplaced his business card. the quotes below are without context so just drop me a line and i will fill you in. my head is a ping pong ball of a sponge when the information attracts me.

like a moth.

1.”I love Wesley but am not fond of his kids”

2.”theology is a human science. it is merely the best guesses of bright people”

3. “we need to find answers to the worlds pressing questions.”

4.”all you needed was a bush arbour to have a meeting.”

5. ” you know the thing about most modern church prophets is they offer more than God can deliver”

6.” he was an idiot husband of the first water”

7.”I have had a love affair with susanna wesley, the mother mary and a lesser known woman named amy”

8.”never marry for compassionate reasons”
-ashton

those were the earmarked ones from my teacher. he was a dear spirit in his 67th year who was still pastoring in the presbyterian cut. and let me tell you. if i thought i could have sat at the feet of scholars such as this man i would have paid more attention in school and registered much earlier.

sat up front and not taken any notes.
al dictorian

here are some from the father of methodism that i liked. if i was around in the early 1700s i would have rode a horse with the brothers wesley. they would sit me on a small pony to make me look bigger and told me to keep up. just like eastwood. i would not have written any songs but may have helped charles out with stanza lengths and chord developments. i would have been comedic fare for the englishman on their missionary adventures and would have done my best to let people know that they are loved and forgiven.

” and its goin be a good flying day sun is up there’s no clouds in your way .pick up your shovels boys, pick up your spades we’ll see you again some day, some day” -sadies

not a wesley quote but in my mind’s ear i could hear him saying it to the downtrodden coal miners that he spoke life to. these lowers are.

1.“you don’t have to follow my Jesus but you still need a better life”

2.”if your heart is my heart, here is my hand”
-wesley

and here are some great lines spoken in full flavours of some of my peers from the course. i would probably have faired better had i distanced myself from these fellas, however ministry loves company and all through school(and life) i saddled myself near troublemakers and ect.

ect would be my downfall in most classes.

1.“lets have some fun with the angels”
-nathan colquhoun
2.”what about angels in the outfields?”
-a doseger
(the always fun hal lindsay, present darkness, demons under dolies discussion)

3.”the truth can make you free or the truth can make you furious”
- garry walsh
4.it all started out as a butter tart”
-chris vyn
(when asked about the origin of raison pie)

5.”he will sacrifice his Isaac”
-jordan cooper

i could be wrong on the last one as to its author. it was definitely a fellow named cooper or knox or maybe smith and the context was all about assurance of salvation. this i know. the story goes like this. a contemporary of wesley would castrate himself to prove his allegiance to Christ. he had asked jesus into his heart, elbow, shin and the rest but still wasn’t sure he was redeemed so he took Isaac into his hands,built and altar and waited for something to move in the thicket…

nothing.

they were serious back then.
he made my footnotes.

this one was for you joe. i couldnt write it during the course as i really need the grades and needed to focus. i know its not much so i might paste something together by weeks end. just take good care and whisper something in the little ones ear for me as we may need her and his guitar fireside as there is less than 5 years to Halifax 2012. man it is going to be something. a caravan. i can’t wait to tell siebert the plan! kalhooun get working on the posters. i am breaking the excitement to castle soon.
blondel talked to his mom this morning and he told me today he is in!

i will quote him if he tries to back out.

it was 46 degrees in my kingdom the other day. oh coward conscience, oh how does thou afflict me.
the foreshadowing and pathetic fallacy that was playing out on the family stage was shakespearean in scope. plots were being cooked up behind closed doors and gauntlets were being thrown down. each time i raised my glass to my mouth i paused, smelled and discretely poured out. you can never be too careful in times as these. something was afoot
i donned my corset and expected the worse in the state of Denmark.
et tu bruke?
(add accent agoo or grav to the e)

read brook eh.

this is unneeded stage direction i will admit. but for those who don’t know the actors it may prove helpful.
an editor somewhere just grimaced and thought that last line unecessary. i sleep perchance to dream.no one likes to explain good art. especially me. to those who read it correctly nice work. move ahead three spaces. and yes you are correct. i have just likened my writing to good art.
it shall hang in a gallery one day.
it could happen.

be not afraid of greatness.

it was spring for corns sakes. the heat needed to be off. the ides of March has passed. where was the sting of sunny days and lawnmowers? i would stare down yond jakeiuss who has a lean and hungry look. my own blood would challenge the throne and the frigidaire and my pocketbook. young squires have incredible appetites and attitudes.
entitlement runs deep.
however this is another play of which i intend to direct another day on a different stage. this was about control. a demon like no other. acts and scenes were being played out. there was a stage left and i would rather be right than kind from time to time. a character trait i am not fond of.

the queen was cavalier for the first couple of weeks as the fuel consumption and erratic thermostat were to blame. she was trooper and was faithful.
the lady doth protest too little methinks.
the rest of the court came with devious plans of overthrow. she held her ground. she joan of arched and prayed that God would deliver us with spring, robins and sidewalk sales.
her prayers were unanswered.
the groundhog is a liar. i would point accusatory fingers at him when court was in session. he would cower and retreat to his underground with tail between his lecherous legs. woodland creatures guesses betray their cuteness.

we humans come from a long list of finger pointers. comedies and tragedies.
i have been removing wood from my lookout sockets for many years. i grow heavy with fault finding and lack of ownership. my happiness is my problem.
i have been swimming in the same moat for some time. the crocodiles just smile toothy grins and let me pass.

what a piece of work is man!

each night in the castle of limestone under hotwater bottles, heating blankets and layers of cottons and flannels the temperature of the players rose under unsaid words and bitterness. even the cats shivered under blankets. the new one had a broken thermostat of her own and made sure we all knew she needed release.
she was the only one in heat.

was ever woman in this humour woo’d?

the rest of the players screamed inaudible expetives into the frosty night air.
you could see your breath. this is not fiction.
i held one hand over my heart and kept one hand near my sabre and as each night passed i was losing feeling in the extremities. my words flew up, my temperatures remained below.

without a stage left and wanting to do the right thing i conceded and turned on the furnace. the entire court warmed to the decree. a jubliant feast was planned and squires from across the kingdom laid rose petals and nodded in full agreements.

this was the kindest cut of all.