019//longing.

art is cheap, photography is cheaper

Nils Vik and I met after an Andy and Dallas show (remember them?). His band, Wide Awake City, had headlined the show, and I had struck up a conversation with them, about Winnipeg, or Belle and Sebastian, or something. Through the wonders of the internet, Nils and I leave each other facebook comments every once and a while, and I ended up remixing a WAC song.

Nils is a brilliant photographer, in my opinion, and his photography exibit "Art Is Cheap, Photography Is Cheaper" is full of relevant, important pictures. Pictures that manage to be beautiful and prophetic, the combination being an art form in itself.

It makes me wonder about the merit of art in the church (this wouldn't be a good kingdom post if it didn't feature a raving rant on the state of the modern church, right?). Where are our prophets? I'm convinced that my church, an average Fraser Valley MB church, does not consider art in the church relevant, or important at all.

What's upsetting about this is the connection between stories, art, and the way that we present the love of Christ. Preachers have got a serious thing for this format: funny story, connect it to the Gospel, repeat. But it seems like the times when the word of God really gets across is through an actual story. So think of the stories that are told through pieces of art, like Nils' pictures. I think we need to give people like Nils more of an oppurtunity to speak truth, and give less oppurtunities to useless words from preachers.

25 minutes and a punch in the chest

i've got 25 minutes remaining on my battery, about that much consciousness left in my day, and i'm taking you up on your assignment, adam.

the thing i've chosen to share...
isn't a cute christmas anecdote about my funny family or my dad's partially severed finger or telling my friend adam "the christmas man" i'd decorate his house like christmas every day if he paid me.

it's kind of about a movie.
which i realize i probably refer to often.
probably because my best friend is a film fiend. and also because movie theatres are the sanctuaries and studies of our culture--filmmakers and screenwriters are the modern day theologians, regardless of whether they (or we) know it.

it's kind of about me.
which i realize i also refer to often.
probably because it's my primary perspective?

i went to see P.S. I Love You yesterday.
my best friend cried through the whole thing.
it was kind of like that. it was really great. and really awful.
the movie opened with this argument and the guy said something to the girl to the effect of "stop waiting for life to start..we're already living" ... and i'm pretty sure someone else brought it up later in the movie, about how she was in this crippling suspended state of preparation ... in any case, it was like someone behind the lights and sounds and characters who weren't exactly talking to me punched me right in the chest.

it's my biggest secret.
it's probably ruining me.
i'm putting life off.

some regret, some sad

So, after a long day of too much thinking and not enough conversation I want to think about something other than "home", for a little while.

Here is an assignment. Write something that you experienced this season, and post it here. Joyful, challenging or otherwise. A story. After that we should sit around with hot cocoa, and laugh at the weirdness of our families.

Most of my season was this- Spending too much time alone which, to be more hard on myself than I need to, felt very self-imposed. Instead of calling friends, making plans, anything I just watched movies and wrote bad poems all day.

It felt like it was just one lazy day, which turned into 5. I think the reason this happened is that a person needs something to start the day, some purpose to wake up for. If you waste a morning the entire day is wasted. For me at least.

So, I will have more cheery posts in awhile. Some joy is still meant to be found. I'm in that pre-traveling feeling- that sense of regret and wonder. mostly, regret.

I miss all of you, to the extent that it feels embarassing to say it. I'll make us all some nice organic-fair-trade hot chocolate when this is all over.

later.

i do wanna love you, i do wanna try

that's right, kids. hedley lyrics.

it's been a quiet while.
i'm trying to mean things.
i've been venturing into strange places (eg: a hedley song--usually the sight of them prompts drown-out hollaring until i can find a remote. see also: the historic romance story i accidentally read, and learning to play yahtzee.)

i don't like people much.
i do, but sometimes i think it's maybe more in an i-love-you-'cause-you're-in-my-family kind of way.
that's the thing i'm trying to figure out--what i mean, and what i just have done so long i think i mean it.
that's why i refrain from singing a lot of things sung in church. jamison mentioned stuff of this in his post below. i implemented a discipline in relation to this in my own life a year or two ago. i dunno, i don't like verbal obesity. i don't like saying words that aren't mine. i don't like lying. i suppose i'm much graver than i let on.



i probably said 11 sentences that whole time i visited those wester cities, maybe 1.5 of them that mattered.
not for any reason. just didn't have much to say that i'd have meant.

"how do you mean?"
that's one of my old people phrases i often use to clarify what folks are telling me.
i wonder a lot, when things are said and done, just how they were meant.



so the thing i've been thinking about on and off for several months is this.

sadistic voyeurism.

(that's what i call it anyways.)


i don't imagine anyone would readily stake a participatory claim in it.

i suppose the popular culture cycles by it every so often.
so now instead of the colosseum or the gallows we gather at the colossus or the galaxy.

i wonder what went through the minds of the spectators at the ancient events, what their motivation was for participating in this kind of consumption: a hunger for justice to be served? a thirst for social involvement? a satanic lust for the agony and destruction of humanity?

sounds like crazy church talk, but it's true isn't it?
he wants us to suffer and die. he likes it best when we do it to ourselves, to each other.
i've never seen satan cut a man to pieces. have you?

i have seen this, though:

alright.
i just went to youtube to find the trailer and link it, but i can't even handle it, it's disgusting..it wasn't the trailer i found first, but whatever it was gave me a feeling i do not want to have ever again. i won't even mention what it's called, but if you see the trailer like i did at a movie the other night or come across it somewhere, you'll know it.

basically, the premise is something like a bunch of tapes are discovered that document someone's killing spree, as shot by the killer himself.

when i saw it, it was the proverbial "cherry on top" of the previously-pondered-in-this-category Hostel/Saw/etc.

i began a bit of an essay on the same topic one day at work a while back...here's an exerpt:

So my brother and I liked this movie, House on Haunted Hill, when we were teenagers.
He called on Saturday and mentioned the sequel that was just released this year (coincidentally I had noticed it listed as rentable on the dish earlier that day). So today I decided to check out the trailer.

As it turns out, if you watch this particular film on HD DVD or Blue Ray, you have the option of essentially directing the progression of the story:

"With 96 frightening possibilities, their fate is in your hands...You decide who lives, or how they die."

It blows my mind that our culture considers this "enhanced entertainment."


last night i just saw a preview for this one, which i thought was interesting and may pose a relevant challenge to the cinema-going, internet-gorged culture (if they bother to think about it?):

http://youtube.com/watch?v=OLYo5tMylQM

reminded me of that video a few years back of the hostage decapitation. i didn't see it. i know people who did. what urges a person to "tune in" to these things? a hunger for justice? thirst for social involvement? or the other thing...

018//christmas, christmas, christmas, christmas.

Anyone been to a mall these days? It's hard to have faith in mankind around this time of year. But I've decided to not let it get me down. I'm normally not a fan of malls to begin with; I've gone on many rants about the level of caring that occurs at malls. One morning I was walking for some bubble tea with Alison and Erin, and I went into one of these rants. I guess it struck a chord with them, because the next thing I knew they were telling me about how they had an interesting experience at the mall. I guess they sat in the food court and just talked with people. Consider how detached we're all becoming, it's cool to hear of people actually reaching out to people, hearing stories, telling stories, living live in community.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm just as bad as the rest of us trendy post-modernists. As I write, I'm in a coffee shop, with my headphones on, trying my hardest not to interact with anyone. In my defense, it is early in the morning, and I've only ingested a small amount of egg nog, and a large amount of coffee, so my breath is probably not at it's best scent. Regardless, what is stopping me from going to someone's table, sitting down, introducing myself, and meeting someone new? Is it pride? Embarrassment? I don't consider myself to be an incredibly prideful person, and I can't say I get embarrassed very easily. Maybe I care too much about what people think of me. I wish I had the assertiveness of those girls, but I guess it's something that I can work on.

Now, another thought has come into my mind these days, which has to do with the conundrum of a distant love. This way of thinking really struck me last year, during a worship service at school. I was sitting closer to the front, which is a pretty rare occurrence to begin with, but I found it really amazing to hear everyone singing from behind me. So I have this epic choir singing behind me, and when we got to this one line, I was really struck by this thought of distant love. "Jesus, I am so in love with you." As we sang it, I was stopped dead in my tracks. All these people singing their hearts out, but how many of us really mean that line when we sing it. I was overcome with guilt, and I had this thought staring me right in the face: I am not "so in love" with Jesus. I mean, it's something that I think we're all working on, but having 150, or so, people singing that from behind me really made me wonder whether all those people had it figured out. How can we love someone, or something, when we can't experience them, or it, with our senses. Too many of us have experienced a long distance relationship, which is one of the most trying relationships that we can experience. How much different from a long distance relationship is our relationship with Christ? Something to think about I suppose.

This whole distant love idea was inspired by some words that came out of me a few weeks ago.

The tip of my tongue is tapping the keys in four four time, clicking away filler words that fill up this blank white box. My mind's rambles rumble behind my eyes, trembling at the thought of the next few weeks.

Brown boxes are being packed up, the smell of old cardboard fills up the air; the aroma of leaving. I lost track of you last night, and I've forgotten whether it's today or tomorrow when you'll be gone, but I guess it doesn't make a difference. On a Friday, you'll be gone, far from my outstretched arms. A province away; a life away.

The ground is still wet from last night's pitiful attempt at snow. Cold enough for a scarf, but so warm that it's basically falling slush. We waited outside the theatre, for nothing, catching these temporary snowflakes in our temporary mouths. Trying to fill a void with some sort of thin air. Maybe there will be more snow for Christmas, maybe you'll dream of my hands on a cold winter's night. It's just like that song I sang you once. I thought those might have been tears in your eyes, but it was too dark, and I had already drank too much wine.

And where are we now? Separated by mounds of earth, rock and water, connected only by these weak signals. A friend once told me that no matter what sort of distance exists, if love is true, it can transcend anything. I'd say I agree with that, but agreeing doesn't necessarily make things easier. This common trend is frustrating, but maybe that's what love really is: being able to love in spite of whatever distance exists, whether it's a physical distance, an emotional distance, or a spiritual distance.

Have a good Christmas, try not to get too bogged down in the bad aspects of it.

Jamison.

spare time.

this is what i do:



dreamers, part two. a mix by le tremudance.

download here

tracks.
css - knife
the knife - girls' night out
shout out louds - normandie
mixtapes and cellmates - the better half of cynical boys
the field - silent
holy fuck - lovely allen
digitalism - pogo
the tremulance - we'll settle this on the dance floor.

get down kids!

thought that I saw you in the oncoming cars

Home.

I'm wondering, how are you all feeling about "returning home"?

I know this can be a hard time of year, being that we are becoming adults, some of us redefining home, finding a place to call home that is not the place we grew up.

Thats how I feel, at least. Being back in Nanaimo really scares me, and fills me with great cynicism. I'm scared because I don't think my character can continue to develop here. I need to be in a place that is safe, where I know I can find care.

So, I know I think too much. I should really be enjoying these days in Nanaimo, of seeing masses of green again. But I am starting to get homesick.

My head is not really together. I was hoping this would turn into a profound statement about community, rather than a few dry statements. I just get a sense that its harder to feel alive during this season, unless your surrounded by a warm glow of a fire and candles, or at home with friends... or something. It gets hard to feel safe this time of year.

I'll be home soon.

PS - on my other journal I said "I can't wait to get back on the road again". Now, I just want to get back home.

PPS - I have been wondering what christmas is like in England for awhile (ever since watching the Muppets Christmas Carol again).

all the more beautiful

I'm working on a poem right now, which I want to finish my indie poem book with. I'm probably going to make 30 or so rough copies to give away, whilst i continue putting time into it and writing.

so if you want a copy just let me know. here is what i have so far-

cups of coffee and college music on our backdeck,
I recorded this song beside a fire,
and old piece of wood from a broken fence,
a crackling loud background of orange flames.
I should have been more careful.

and a cold night, maybe tonight i'll walk you home.
awkward smiles and goodbyes. and
i want to stay up until unreasonable hours,
sharing some guitar and conversation,
some old tea i never got around too,
cold coffee on a quiet thursday night.

we make up our own weekends, out of fridays and occasional jazz music shows,
of nelson boschmans and lance odegaards.
of artsy movies and afterthoughts, the occasional awkward look,
i notice your looking in my eyes, wondering what i'm feeling.

and its a beautiful thing.
its a good life, this small space we share,
moments and mornings waking up feeling bad.
shows and friends on friday nights,
and road trips to vancouver. the simple life.
its the simple things in life that mean the most.

its the things you do when you think no one is watching
walking in crossed lines, singing in fields or by yourself at home.
lines with eyes that took pain, and broken nights to make.
those are what make life all the more beautiful.

Speaking of hanging out with college students / young adults, I'm stuck on this random band I stumbled across, that I am intrigued by for some unknown reason.

Edison Glass. There is this unspoken maturity about how this band does music, challenging the typical, dry and uninspiring pop-punk out there. i would call them unconventional. give these guys a listen.

lets get together this Christmas. and we can talk more about music. later.