If you're going to. . .

frikkin do it properly, please.

Our local high school was hit with a plague of "graffiti" this morning. But what I cannot describe in words to you is the "chicken scratch technique" this child used to scrawl drivel ("why so serious?" Honestly.) on the brick veneer of the building. This person clearly had as much experience with a can of spray paint as I do. Which comes to a total of perhaps 5 or 6 minutes.

The word graffiti, as is commonly known, actually comes from an Italian word graffito, which means a carved inscription or a design. We think of it as "defacing" something, when it's really public art. It takes a lot of skill and practice (and a good deal of talent) to excel at tagging. And it IS art.

Graffiti does NOT mean what this kid thought it did. I also think that, if they were better educated about why people tag things, peopl would take more interest in the graffiti that may be a daily part of their lives. If done well, graffiti is beautiful. And I love the idea that graffiti is the opening of a public dialogue. Think about it. If I knew anyone with real skill in graffiti, they'd be working on the brick of our house right now. It'd be a heck of a lot better than the salmon color it currently is. And public discourse of almost any kind is something we desperately need these days. Everyone's constantly communicating without really depositing anything in eachother anymore. How frequently do you have conversations that transform you? It's so hard these days, even though we're only a text away from eachother.

For now, I'll leave you [click on the post title] in/with the capable hands of Barry McGee, an incredible artist with a lot of cool ideas on graffiti and public art. He does other fantastic things besides tagging, if you're interested. Love.

Look. . .

How do we inject into christian music the creativity and energy and innovation that pre-christians have in their music? God changes my heart every time we worship - I frequently am halted by my own feelings that what I'm participating in is artistically stale and dying [ewwwww! stinky]. Then Jesus (and His phantastic Holy Spirit) swoop into my heart and remind me that He's a total cheeseball, and He doesn't at all mind if the praise of His people sounds just like it did ten or fifteen years ago, and He melts my heart with His. And that's so good. But.

But I'm so tired in my heart of the same old thing. It just reminds me of the other types of complacency we have in western christianity. Nothing in our lives should be boring or static! Nothing should be the same as it was five years ago, because we are not the same as we were. How could I make the same music as I did five years ago? I'm not who I was five years ago. I really am a completely different person. I don't remember that person but at a distance. She is not me. We don't think even similarly. I don't want my diving into Jesus to ever slow. I know what people say, that it's more dramatic and passionate because I'm younger.

I don't believe it. That is a lie! Worse than outright falsehood; it's a sneaky lie - almost believable. Sort-of-understandable. But, nonetheless full of CRAP! I think of several men and women in my church. In their fifties, in their seventies. Passionate, radical, to-the-point-of-crazy about Jesus. It doesn't have to stop. I'm not feeding myself that. I refuse.

So, I want the music I play and make and love to be different. God, I praaaaaay that the bands I love most, I enjoy most, will love Jesus! because I cannot say that right now. and it makes me want to cry.

The song I want you to listen to [click on the post title] is called "Blessa" by Toro y Moi, courtesy of gorillavsbear.net. Beautiful. Love.

There is Love in You - Taxes, Cleaning, and Four Tet

And oxford commas. Yes, I am that type of person.

Seriously, check out the new Four Tet Album, "There is Love in You" [click on the post title]. However, it will go away on its release date, 1/26/10. After that, check this out for more: yes! . Only listen to it if you agree to not call the musician, Kieran Hebden, by his first name (as if you know him). I do this too frequently with, oh, say the members of Radiohead. Honestly, I don't know them, even if I know plenty about them and their work. It's odd to pretend like we're pals. I want to be honest with myself about who I know and who I don't. Somehow it seems like we get turned around about that all the time these days.

I must say, music does ameliorate the tedium of bathroom cleaning. And I do unabashedly wear gloves to clean my own bathroom. I don't care. Toilets are absolutely gross. Eww. Showers are clearly less disgusting, but far larger. Sinks are fine, with the notable exception of toothepaste gunk/petrified shave gel. I'm trying (hah) to clean these strongholds of filth once a week to minimize. . . unpleasantness? Scrubbing? To grow character?

I'm trying to begin to figure out our taxes for 2009. That the document explaining how to fill out the two pages of the 1040 is almost 150 pages long is completely. . .okay. Letting go. I believe it will get done. Correctly.

Tonight is the first night of three and a half months' dedicated (albeit novice) work. I'm interested in seeing how this semester changes me and everyone I know. It really is exciting to look forward. Still, so many changes are coming. Is it the dawn or sunset? or both?

Or who cares. Every semester has been better than the one before. It's much more fun to put your horns down and charge than to have a seat and ponder, says I. Further up and further in!

Seriously, check the album out. If you don't have a lot of time, start it at 36 minutes in. Gorgeous. Love.

This just in...

I've decided to like my body. Yay! Now, how to put this decision into everyday practice.

On an only marginally-related note: has anyone else noticed that many people no longer distinguish between "everyday" and "every day"? Makes me sad.

I must admit, I've never liked my body. Really, who does? I've heard a myth that men like their bodies, but none of them I know well don't have something about their physical appearance that bothers them. So, I don't believe it. I know very few people who will honestly say they like their bodies. That makes me mad! It's not like we get another one. . .

But! If I want to be a good mom to the kids we'll have sometime, I cannot allow myself to rail against my own body. It'll screw them up. They're too important to screw up that way.
And, honestly, everyone screws up their kids somehow. I'd rather it be something more unique. Screwing up their body image is so passe.
[okay, you can't use accents on this blog. or. . . I don't know how.]

For now, I'll leave you with The Miracles Club [the link's in the title]. love.