Sorry for my long absence, extenuating circumstances disallowed for me to update.  First the internet broke and then I spent the weekend in Buffalo for a family reunion with my blood relatives (I consider all my relatives that have blood my blood relatives.)

Right before departing for Buffalo I did a bit of yardwork.  The perplexing thing was I don’t remember ever planting any weeds.  All the weeds were in random, hard-to reach locations.  But then again, if they all were in random, hard-to-reach locations then I guess that means there was a pattern? 

Here is a quote by GK Chesterton on Courage.  It thrills me to read it, so be a sport and give it your attention.

“COURAGE is almost a contradiction in terms. It means a strong desire to live taking the form of a readiness to die. ‘He that will lose his life, the same shall save it,’ is not a piece of mysticism for saints and heroes. It is a piece of everyday advice for sailors or mountaineers. It might be printed in an Alpine guide — or a drill-book. This paradox is the whole principle of courage even of quite earthly or quite brutal courage. A man cut off by the sea may save his life if he will risk it on the precipice. He can only get away from death by continually stepping within an inch of it. A soldier, surrounded by enemies, if he is to cut his way out, needs to combine a strong desire for living with a strange carelessness about dying. He must not merely cling to life, for then he will be a coward, and will not escape. He must not merely wait for death, for then he will be a suicide, and will not escape. He must seek his life in a spirit of furious indifference to it; he must desire life like water and yet drink death like wine. No philosopher, I fancy, has ever expressed this romantic riddle with adequate lucidity, and I certainly have not done so. But Christianity has done more: it has marked the limits of it in the awful graves of the suicide and the hero, showing the distance between him who dies for the sake of living and him who dies for the sake of dying. And it has held up ever since above the European lances the banner of the mystery of chivalry the Christian courage which is a disdain of death; not the Chinese courage which is a disdain of life.”

I’m off to better things. So long my fair lads and lasses.

My recent rumination:

When does evening begin?

It may seem like a petty quarel and an endless discussion, but I refuse to admit that Fact does not know the answer.  Does it start at five o clock? Six? Seven? Or perhaps it begins in relation to sundown? Maybe it starts around dinnertime? But when in correspondence with dinner? After? Before? Is the beginning of evening related to season?  Does evening last until midnight or is there another moment where the periodof ‘night’ begins?  What about afternoon?  Is its endpoint directly when evening begins?

Think this is nothing but a mere minutia?  I beg counter that view.  How often do you hear the question, “What are you doing this evening?”  If we only had definite outlines for evening and night how much clearer would communication and planning be?  The answer is imperative! 

What do you think?

A curious young soul once asked, “whats an eprop and how do i get them?”

And here was my response:

“eProps are the justice system of the xanga world. The xanga gods issued them as a form of currency of respect and satisfaction, or of cynicism and disgust. eProps are considered your ticket for your next post, get none, and disgrace you bring your family. Some abuse the privilege and destroy the meaning of eProps by giving them out like candy…and in return they recieve also meaningless eProps. This evil pattern is what has diminished some of the glamour of the xanga world. People may write that they went to school and nothing happened that day and recieve 2 eProps…and it saddens my heart. eProps were designed to keep xanga authors working hard and xanga fans happy. These eProps are to a xanga user as applause is to a performer…if you don’t perform well, then you won’t get any. Do not take eProps for granted, for eProps are sacred. Its a way you can be told “Job well done, soldier, I enjoyed that post.”  You show deference to the eProp leaders, as they have mastered a sacred art with clear dexterity. May eProps be with you.”

Allow me to go further.  An eProp is of greater value than a lowly comment, for you cannot subtract from the face value of an eProp, while comments are often times repetetive and meaningless.  Also, eProps indicate a variety of commenters, not just a crazed friend with a barrage of comments that indicates too much time on their hands. 

My dreams wish to see the benefit of the eProp extend further.  If only there were some way to cash or trade these eProps for xanga weapons or enhanced features.  Perhaps the eProps could buy the xanga names we wanted, but some mind-clone of mine out there stole it first!  Then would the power of the eProps be fully realized!  But as it stands, we sprinkle eProps on bad posts like giving diamonds to a bum.  One day my dream will be executed, and the xanga world ill no longer be socialist, but classes will exist and democracy shall prevail!

What is an eProp to you?

The night rolls into the station and it’s time to snooze.  Goodnight…er, morning. 

Alliteration aphorisms all around!

Continual clear consideration creates conceptual cleverness.

Wit with wisdom wins word wars.

Many miracles master men’s mistrust.

Perpetual pride produces permanent painful punishment.

Fortified faith fathoms forever forgivness.

Dissapointment doesn’t destroy dedicated dreams.

Whew! I’m all thunked out.  Sleep soundly somnolent schoolmates! Hmm…this better not become a habit.

Til’ tomorrow! Ta ta!

My mind is in lockdown.  Driving classes have it at a blank stare in front of every consummate thought there can  be, but it touches nothing.  Hopefully tomorrow brings the brain’s harvest. Today is stale and I’m tired of searching the empty hallways of my neurocenter.  Must be a holiday for my brain cells.  Or perhaps they’re on strike until I give them more sleep.  After all, they work many hours a week on deciphering C.S. Lewis and I can’t blame them.  Only my imagination can explain to me how disgruntled C.S. Lewis’s brain cells must have been, he worked the poor things to death.  All theologians must have miserable brain cells by nature of their job description — to think about the unthinkable. 

Anyhow, this post is not totally worthless.  Here’s a poem by a person who, by the gilded appearance, never got writer’s block.  Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Lewis Carrol. 

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright –
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done –
‘It’s very rude of him.’ she said,
‘To come and spoil the fun!’

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead –
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand:
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
‘If this were only cleared away,’
They said, ‘it would be grand.’

‘If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,’ the Walrus said,
‘That they could get it clear?’
‘l doubt it,’ said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

‘O Oysters, come and walk with us!
The Walrus did beseech.
‘A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.’

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head –
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

Out four young Oysters hurried up.
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat –
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more –
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
‘To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing wax –
Of cabbages — and kings –
And why the sea is boiling hot –
And whether pigs have wings.’

‘But wait a bit,’ the Oysters cried,
‘Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!’
‘No hurry!’ said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

‘A loaf of bread,’ the Walrus said,
‘Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed –
Now, if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.’

‘But not on us!’ the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
‘After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!’
‘The night is fine,’ the Walrus said,
‘Do you admire the view?’

‘It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
‘Cut us another slice-
I wish you were not quite so deaf-
I’ve had to ask you twice!’

‘It seems a shame,’ the Walrus said,
‘To play them such a trick.
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
‘The butter’s spread too thick!’

‘I weep for you,’the Walrus said:
‘I deeply sympathize.’
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

‘O Oysters,’ said the Carpenter,
‘You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none –
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.

A most joyous hello to you and your family! After all, what better family activity is there than to all gather ’round the computer screen and read a xanga entry?

As you may know, the celebration date for American Independence is quickly approaching.  On this day 229 years ago ( seems like just yesterday doesn’t it?), the Declaration of Independence was signed by 56 members of Congress.  Thus, most Americans use this holiday to thank our Founding Fathers and soldiers of the Revolutionary War for our freedom. 

On the other hand, I take this day and give my humble gratitude to the Chinese, who invented fireworks. 

After all, without the Chinese we would all assemble and travel to parks and rivers to watch the blank night sky.  How awkward would that be? Clapping would be weird, arguing for good view would be for naught, and the anticlimatic event would probably cause clamor and discontent with being a free country. 

Who knows, maybe we wouldn’t even be a free country without fireworks. Picture this:

Thomas Jefferson: We should be free country! Away from Britain!                                                                      

Ben Franklin: But how would we celebrate our independence?

Thomas Jefferson: Mmm, point taken.  Cancel that thought.

Enjoy the frisson of fireworks.  S’long.