Wheaton Alum Opens Bar

Us DC T6ers seem to be doing alright these days. Brett has started a side job as a SAT prep teacher. Dave's social life has taken a twist, and I've been enjoying the break in between semesters for grad school classes, as I'm still doing stuff to prep for applying for a PhD program. So I currently have all sorts of free time, as I have no business committing to anymore activities, but much of what I have committed to has not started yet.

I'm enjoying the time off and doing stuff such as turning my place into a sports bar for the NFL football playoffs. (If the Bears bomb out this evening, I'm not going to be happy.) I've been getting about 7 people per game on average. If only hospitality was always as easy as having a kitchen stocked with lots of beer and junk food.

Daily Grace

Today’s New York Times contains this astonishing (for you), alarming (for me) article on diabetes in the United States and in NYC. I know I told some of you in a somewhat bizarre fashion, so in case you missed it, here’s the story behind that last cryptic post: I have type 1 diabetes. I was diagnosed on October 4^th. Eight days before my 25^th birthday.

It’s difficult to convey my emotions on reading this article. It reminds me of painful realities that are easy to forget about within the day to day bustle of life. My life will probably be shorter than yours. I have much better odds of getting heart disease and stroke, of going blind, having nerve damage, or even losing my leg than you do. It may be that I will not be able to provide for my wife and (future) family the way I’d hoped. These are hard things to understand at any age, but especially at 25 when possibilities are supposed to be opening up instead of closing down.

What is one to do when faced with such news? While I can manage and monitor the disease remarkably well thanks to get technological advances and health insurance, I cannot fight it. What can I do but trust Jesus to provide for my needs? My life and health, which have always depended on Christ for sustenance, do so more obviously now. I am not angry anymore, though I was a little at first. At times I am sad, but mostly I am content. I will trust that there is a plan in all of this. I’ll keep you posted.

A Post

A post:
A thing that holds symbols, not signs or things. Not a tree (though it may hold life, represent judgment, give food of sorts, and point toward the king of the universe); made of zeros and ones encoded decoded and encoded once again.

Why am I writing this? I don't know. Just sat down at my computer and thought to myself: it is high time for a post. A post: a thing that holds symbols. . .

I have a laptop on my lap top, just to the left of which sits my wife on whose lap top sits my son. She just asked him, "what are you trying to see, honey" (he is looking intently at something to his right), he grunts back something unasperated or consonated, as if he is trying to pick up something heavy. I cannot write fast enough to keep up with his motion. He is in a hunderd differnt positions as my fingers fly across these crazy keys.

Sarah just asked me to speak what I'm writing because she sees me smiling at this screen. I have read all but this paragraph to her; to her, and not to andrew because he cannot recognize as many words as appear in these sentences.

Our guests are coming now. That means that, unless I want to be absolutely rude (in any culture) I must stop this post.

End of the year means end of the year lists...

All the magazines and newpapers are publishing their "best of 2005" lists for various categories. However, since I didn't really care for 2005, and since I do enjoy drawing attention to myself, I've decided to create a list of my own. Nothing to do with 2005.

Aeijtzsche's Top 10 songs that clearly rip-off the Aeijtzsche & H Hitt Facktory

10. Yes: Owner of a Lonely Heart

If the Hitt facktory were slightly guilty of overuse of Orchestral Hits, then Yes needs to be locked up for life for the outrageous orchestral hits that adorn this song.

9. Weather Report: Teen Town

Ridiculous, meandering barely melodic bassline. Total rip-off.

8. Jan & Dean: Batman

Jan and Dean actually stole their entire schtick from the Hitt Factory. A duo writing music that can bring a grown woman to belly laugh.

7. Snoop Dogg ft. Pharell: Drop it like it's Hot

They used an aerosol can as a "snare drum." Gimme a break. So Aeijtzsche and H.

6. The Beach Boys: Good Vibrations

Brian Wilson recorded tiny snippets of music, then later patched them together to form a semi-cohesive whole. Sound familiar? I thought so.

5. The Police: Spirits in the Material World

The skipped first beat followed by nice little guitar up-beats and an off-beat bassline make for a hitt facktoryesquely unsettling rhythmic experience.

4. Mahavishnu Orchestra: John's Song #2

Long, fast melodies, followed by a tight 7/8 groove. Way to be original, guys.

3. Bjork: Where is the Line?

Mouthdrums.

2. Brian Wilson: The Vege-Tables Arguments

Brian taped a whole series of friend Michael Vosse arguing with session drummer Hal Blaine about vegetables. Mommy Mommy?

1. The Flaming Lips: Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Part 2

If you only seek out one song from this list, let it be this one. The Flaming Lips actually took a time machine into an alternate future, where the Aeijtzsche and H Hitt Factory have a huge recording budget. They stole a final mixdown of a Hitt Facktory song completed in 2017. This is that song. Gurgling synth bass, screaming, animal noises, childishly coincident ascending and descending melodies into eternity...


Happy New Year, everyone!

hey

You guys should join the MySpace community.

An old conversation

Since this is our 1 year aniversary month on the blog, I thought I would add a little to one of our previous conversations. I heard this on NPR (Fresh Air) last Wednesday and thought it would be interesting for several of us here. It's called "Misquoting Jesus" and here it is: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5052156

Alan in the Archives

I was searching the 611 online archives for certain tour de force performances featuring our friend AG. You can imagine my disappointment-- despair, actually-- when I couldn't hear the beloved Fed say things like "stop playing games with my face" and "is that really my voice?". I assume their disappearance has something to do with verdak. So, Dave... can you possibly make them available somewhere else? Please? I'll beg. I'll whine. I'm not above flattery, bribery or empty threats. It would be like a giant anniversary present for the blog. And Andy would be happy. Very happy.

New Post

This is long overdue, considering how often I check the blog and how much (really) I care to keep my friendship with you guys.

I am back in America and living now in my hometown, Tyler, Texas. It is a great place. And I am friendly. Come visit.

:-)

Midway In Our Life's Journey

If you want to know the truth, I began this disorderly and almost endless collection of scattered thoughts and observations in order to gratify a good mother who knows how to think. But even that’s not the whole story. Actually, in my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. "Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had.” What’s this about advantages? What is it that you’re trying to say? If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. So I won’t. I’ll begin in medias res, with this reassurance only: You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings. I know now where to begin, but when… ah, that’s a different question entirely. At the beginning of July, during a spell of exceptionally hot weather, towards evening, a certain young man came down on to the street from the little room he rented from some tenants in S--- Lane and slowly, almost hesitantly, set off towards K---n Bridge. Or maybe it was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. No, no it was September—of that I’m certain. On a day during which we celebrate labor with recreation. Yes, those were halcyon days. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity. Well, let’s not get carried away. But although I stood at the brink of darkness and fear, I was not nearly so bad off as Gregor Samsa, who awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad.

So the beginning of September, as I said, opens this tale of woe. I found myself steadily losing weight. 180. 178. 174. 170. 168. 162. 159. I took my belt in a notch. I tightened my watch. I started eating and drinking more. And I went on with my life, but decided to visit the doctor. This doctor poked and prodded and relieved me of various and sundry bodily fluids and diagnosed me with an incurable disease. Call me Ishmael. Incurable, but treatable. Treatable, but deadly. Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of York. Why did this happen to me? No one knows. All they would tell me is that all children, except one, grow up. Should I take comfort from this promise? I don’t know that either. When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning or in rain?

In the beginning…

wow

This place needs something new to spice it up. You can't tell me that no one in the group has something new and exciting to talk about. I know someone must be hiding something.

161

I am back in Amarillo at my parents' house for Thanksgiving. Hope everyone had a good one. I'm taking advantage of this being a holiday as an excuse not to do any work (I have a tidy stack of books and journal articles in the guest room (that's strange. It's one thing to leave home and go off to college and come home on holidays to your own room with your own stuff, but it's quite a different thing to take all your belongings with you and then stay in your parent's new guest room. Austin feels more like my home now (as I sit in Amarillo) than it has at any point over the last four months of living in Bat City (a nickname for Austin, based on the number of bats that live in the area (there are over 2.5 million bats under the Congress Avenue bridge alone)). I'm really looking forward to going HOME at the end of the weekend, taking the bus through my new city and sleeping in my own bed in my own appartment. It wouldn't be that strange at this point to tell someone that I'm from Austin (unless of course I was speaking in Spanish (in which case you are always FROM the place you were born (soy de (I now have 161 views of my blogger profile (beat that chumps)) Amarillo))). At the same time, I haven't really seen as much of Austin as I would like (grad school keeps one rather busy), and I am looking forward to spending some time at HOME in AUSTIN over the Christmas break. At any rate, I feel much more independent, more... grown I guess. It feels nice.)-- a combination of books by and articles on Philip Roth, Jacques Derrida and Emmanuel Levinas. It's good reading, but it's all I've been reading for a very, very long time. Centuries perhaps.) I know it seems stupid to try working over a holiday break (you probably noticed that that was the last closing parenthesis, if you were paying attention), but I have two twenty-page rough drafts due next week, and I can't afford not to work at least some. Happy Thanksgiving!

Have we lost the plot?

So... I was at Bible study tonight, and come prayer time somebody in the group said that we must pray for "In God We Trust" to stay on our money, as though all good Christians should be praying for that. It bugged me a lot.

It was presented as a need for us to pray about it because it's part of a slippery slope of persecution. I don't want to see Christians in America persecuted, but I do not think that defending In God We Trust on money is a matter of persecution. Also, I think that praying for relief from true persecution is perfectly acceptable, but where do we get off thinking that the Christian life is supposed to be cushy? Some persecution might be part of God's plan for the Christian Church in America in order to strengthen it. Not that all topics of early church prayer made it in the Bible, but the prayers from the early church recorded in the Bible seemed to focus on significantly different matters than where the government allows reference to God, let alone much more significant forms of intolerance/persecution. I hate it when Christians hold the opinion that all good Christians must go along with and pray for whatever stance the political Christian right takes, while failing to pray for so many other things that we should!

In God I do trust, and happy Thanksgiving. Let the fireworks begin.

Another Austin Afternoon

I stood facing my appartment from the bus stop across the street. The bus wasn't scheduled to arrive for several more minutes, but I was enjoying the wait. A cold front finally blew through last week, and today has an almost perfect mixture of cool air and sunshine. I looked left to see if the bus was coming-- I could see it a couple of blocks up the street, one more stop and one traffic light away. I looked right and saw a middle-aged man, clean-shaven with a fishing hat and a pair of New Balance shoes, jogging towards the bus stop with a trumpet in his left hand. He stopped under the little shelter, tucked the trumpet under his arm and produced a small bottle of Lord Calvert from his left hip pocket. Unscrewing the white-plastic lid of the half-empty bottle, he made a moments eye contact with me, took a sizable belt and slid the bottle back into his pocket, replacing the lid with one fluid motion. I commented on the weather. "The weather's perfect," he said, sitting down on the bench. "Did you see the sunrise two days ago?" "I saw the end of it, I was waiting here for the bus." I have to be on campus before eight on Thursday mornings. "The clouds were stacked up in layer on layer, and the color was unbelievable!" He went on to describe, quite accurately, how the sunsets this time of year take on a color that isn't quite pink but isn't exactly red: "We don't even have a word to describe what it is, but it's beautiful." All the time he spoke, he fingered the keys of the trumpet absentmindedly. I think his hands were playing wordless colors, silently. Just before the bus pulled up, he put his head down to the trumpet and blew out a couple of smooth Jazz runs. "I love this trumpet; only sixty dollars." He boarded the bus behind me and took a seat near the front. Glancing up to make sure the driver was distracted, he took another quick pull from the bottle, settled back into his seat and fingered out a melody with the trumpet's mouthpiece resting under his chin.

Briar Patch! if you know what I mean

Here's a neat Where's Waldo game with an interesting ending when you find him. (hint: it's not the effeminate look-alike eating cotton candy in the front).

http://www.office-will.com/freewill/w/

still hot

The calendar tells me that the season is changing, but the weather around here apparently hasn't got the message. To paraphrase Henry Ford, calendars are bunk. I want to wear sweaters. I want to be cold. I'd settle for not sweating. I will see. In other title-related news, I'm still hot. But the ladies apparently aren't getting the message. To paraphrase Henry Ford, Coye is bunk. Speaking of bunk, I'm interested what kind of odds you guys are giving Bush's new Supreme Court nomination. I kind of want her nomination to fail just so I'll feel like the congress still functions and isn't just a rubber-stamping machine. So, I'm going to suggest an optimistic 60/40 chance that she gets the boot instead of the bench. And speaking of changes, I like the all black layout. Tres chic.

whew

Sweet action, my CPO box is MINE forever! I think I will somehow integrate this fine piece of American workmanship into the decor of my house.

Dave Update

The first brave leaves outside my window have already begun their pilgrimage toward the soil; they've given up their green without a sound, and slowly they're loosening their native bonds and waiting for that sudden moment of release. It won't be long before all the host of leaves follow in these fading steps-- before the skeletons of bare bark are left standing in the fragrance of this yearly sacrifice.

Fall: my twenty-sixth. I find it's the season with which I resonate most strongly--there's a strange hope about its dance toward death: an silent longing for rebirth--a longing which turns dreadful decay into a beautiful altar of love.

+++

If you have google earth (pretty much the coolest program out there), and plug in 142 Essex Street, South Hamilton, MA, you'll see the earth tilt and turn and the camera will zoom in toward the northeastern coast of the United States. You'll see Long Island and Cape Cod grow and disappear below view, then northern Boston and Cape Ann, and then you're all inland with streets, clusters of trees, and clearings. When you stop, you're hovered just to the right of Gordon Conwell Theological Seminary's main entrance. The campus is to the North. A small road drifts up past a rectangular pond and splits into a circuit around the "great field" where we play soccer and Ultimate Frisbee. The field is shaped like a thin pear; my apartment is up where the imaginary stem would be. To the west (up on top of the hill), you'll see the administrative and academic buildings.

So that's my little world. Any of you are welcome any time.

This coming week is reading week, so classes are off and we're all trying to catch up on papers and readings and so on. I'm taking four classes: Biblical Hebrew I, Systematic Theology I, Church to the Reformation (History), and The World Mission of the Church (Missions). It's been interesting to go over in the classroom all the material that we've discussed on the blog (things like Tradition and Scripture, Truth and Method, Love and Presence). As you can imagine, the contours of the conversation are quite different here. I hope we're not finished talking about these things; they're important.

That's what goes on up on the hill, down in the apartment the world's a bit different. Andrew's now 14 weeks old. He's talking all the time (though I have no idea what he's saying), and laughing. I love it when he laughs; its one of the most incredible feelings in the world when he's laughing and I'm laughing and we're simply enjoying the beauty of this relationship that God is giving to us.

The major bummer has been that I've been unable to find a part-time job around here. That's been hard. It's like holding your screaming and inconsolable infant: you know that there is a terminus--it will end--but that doesnt exactly make it less horrible.

OK, maybe it's not that bad, but it's not fun not being able to get the work you want.


+++

As you might imagine, it's taken a few sittings throughout the day to finish this little update. It's dark outside now, humid and warm and dark. Another day has passed, another day will come. My body's tired and achy--my mind is warn and fading--sleep comes soon, and with it: the grace of letting go of my weary mental grip on this massive world.

The Law and the Body

I remember the Logemonster bringing up some issues about governmental control of the body-- particularly the force of the law over particular bodies. (I think it might have been during the Schaivo power grab.) Anyways, I saw this news piece today on the AP news-wire, and I thought I would see if anyone has comments or ideas about this sort of invasiveness. I'm not entirely comfortable with the ruling myself, but I'm not sure whether or not to blatantly condemn it. Let's just say that it makes me anxious...

sad news

http://www.wheaton.edu/Athletics/mbasketball/will.html

NPR: Music from Iraq

Fellas,
I heard a story on NPR la otra dia about an army reservist who is a jazz musician back in the world but who continues to compose music while in Iraq. He composes electronically-- not unlike 611 studios-- and posts his music on the internet-- not unlike 611 online. I thought that this would be particularly interesting to a lot of us here (especially Dave, Steve and Aeijtzsche), so I'm puting up a link. You have to love "All Things Considered."