Skip James - Devil Got My Woman

Don't come by my house tonight. I'm going to be spending some quality time with a bottle of whiskey.

Failure #4

Meds reinstated. I'm wondering if I'm just going to have to stay on them for the rest of my life. It's starting to seem that it may be the only way, as long as my life remains what it is now.

I'm always being asked why I don't: date; make some new friends; find a new church; get involved in (x) social activity--i.e., join a book discussion group, or a shooting club, or whatever it is.

I give various reasons, but what it really comes down to is two things:
a) It's so hard for me to find people I actually like being around, that I've pretty much given up. I try not to be judgmental or unkind, but I simply do not enjoy the company of 99.9% of people. Furthermore, I've come to the realization that, although all my life I've tried to adapt, to ingratiate myself, to find a way (short of being fake or becoming something I'm not) to fit in with the awful normals--that is the stupid and mean people who comprise the vast majority of the population, I don't. And I never will. And I'm tired of trying. They don't like me, and I don't like them, and so my best option is to eschew their company. And making the situation even worse, is the fact that I can't really immerse myself in any of the things I truly love, because it just reminds me and opens up wounds again.
b) Unless there is resolution, closure, and healing of the past, I'm never going to be able to trust anyone again. I'm never going to be able to be vulnerable and open myself up again. I'm never going to be able to love again. Not just a woman, but friends, brethren, and companions as well. I don't trust anyone anymore. Especially church people. If I don't find healing and reconciliation back where I belong, I'm never going back to church. Period. Disagree if you will, judge if you wish. But that's how it is.

Unfortunately, without the medication I have a much more profound awareness of that inconvenient and annoying need for human affection and companionship. And since it can't be satisfied, it seems the only solution is to go back to suppressing it chemically.

I probably will start doing some casual dating here shortly. But I'm only looking for companionship and, frankly, someone to pass the time with. I have no intention of ever falling in love again.

I know, it's a shame to have become just like every other emotionally unavailable, commitment-phobic man out there. But I tried and I tried and I tried to be something different, something better, and got nothing but rejection, coldness, and scorn in return. So there you are.

Joshua Bell - Dance of the Blessed Spirits

There's always something else beautiful to discover.

"'Tch,' say they, 'how should God perceive it? Is there knowledge in the Most High?' Lo, these are the ungodly, these prosper in the world, and these have riches in posession. And then I said, 'Then have I cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in naivety.'
All the day long have I been punished, and chastened every morning. Yea, and I had almost said even as they; but lo, then I should have condemned the generation of Thy children.

Then thought I to understand this, but it was too hard for me."

-- Psalm 73:12-16

"See that ye love one another with a pure heart fervently."

-- 1 Peter 1:22

"You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you."

-- Jane Austen

I'm watching Pride & Prejudice again, and I've only now noticed for the first time that the younger sisters are Carey Mulligan and Jena Malone. Adorable. I love it so when girls are just unapologetically girls.

I'm not so naive as to believe that that time, or any time in this world's history, was a golden age or a paradisical utopia (other than Paradise itself, of course). But there are so many beautiful, good, and lovely things which we've now lost.

I wonder, too, that the feminists who've spent the last half or three quarters of a century diligently destroying every vestige of gentility and chivalry under the names of patriarchy and patronization have not yet figured out that all the centuries and millennia of accumulated rules, manners, etiquette, and customs were men's way of understanding (or at least attempting to, anyway), accommodating, and protecting women. Imperfect, to be sure. But compare the behavior of antique gentlemen to the misogynistic, violent, abusive, porn-addicted rape culture of this generation of males (I will not name them men), and judge for yourself which is better. I know which I prefer; and for that I offer no apologies.

No Compromise

This is my favorite Christian song. (Contemporary, that is--not including all the great hymns, psalms, choral masterpieces, and sacred music of the past.) This song pretty much defines the essence of my spiritual life; and indeed, played a major part in shaping it. Even as a young boy, I deeply and instinctively admired those who stood uncompromising against great opposition and at great cost; Elijah, John the Baptist, Daniel and his friends.... The picture above (which is the cover of the album from which this song comes) illustrates it beautifully.

I watched the new Cinderella movie again recently, and as it did the first time, it moved me profoundly. "Have courage and be kind". Even so.

False Assumptions

I was watching a movie the other day, and the hero was declaring his love for the lady. And the lady's response was angry: she went on a tirade about how she got to choose for her, not him, and about how he must be assuming that if he did x,y, and z, that she would have to fall in love with him. And the man was just flabbergasted and bewildered; what she was saying that he was saying was so far from anything he thought or intended, that he didn't know how to respond.

And I share his bewilderment. Is this how women actually see things? Do they think that when a man pursues them or declares his love, that he is arrogantly assuming that she will have no choice but to succumb?

This whole speech that she made, and similar things that I've heard elsewhere...it's so confounding that it's hard to know how to reply. What the hell? OF COURSE it's up to her. OF COURSE she gets to choose. OF COURSE she doesn't have to fall in love with him. I mean, it's so obvious that it shouldn't even need to be said. What on earth would make you think that we thought otherwise? I don't know any men who think the way women apparently think that we think. Most especially not me.

The only men I know of who believe anything even close to that are the slimy pick-up artist types who manipulate women for sex. But these guys don't go around making themselves vulnerable and foolish by making public declarations of love. And most intelligent women have little or no trouble in sorting them from the genuine.

The truth is actually the exact opposite. When a good man bares his heart and declares his love, he is taking an enormous step of courage in the face of uncertainty, self-doubt, and fear like he's never known in any other situation. Even the bravest and most confident of men are reduced to scared little boys in the presence of Love. He is intensely vulnerable, but has decided to take the risk because he can't live without her, and no shame, embarrassment, rejection, or ridicule is too high a price to pay to find out if she loves him too. When a good man says he loves a woman and asks for her love in return, he is ASKING for it. He's requesting the honor of her free choice, and hoping that the same feelings and realizations have been growing in her as have been growing in him. He is not demanding, assuming, or arrogating anything. If he's been watching for signs and trying to interpret her words and actions, it's because he is desperately hoping that she has been feeling the same things he has, and is trying to decipher whether his suit has a chance of success. If he's acting strangely, it's because he's terrified. But remember, that courage is not the absence of fear: courage is the will to act in spite of fear.

Drugs and Feelings, Part II

I've realized that I promised to fill you in on my efforts to return from antidepressant-induced emotional limbo, but failed to do so. I am currently in the midst of my third or fourth attempt to end the medication. The first few tries failed because I was fasting, and it proved to be too much.

I'm at the point right now where my feelings are really starting to come back to life, which is further than I got on my previous attempts. The stage before this, when the drugs start to wear off, is a kind of nonspecific stress and anxiety coupled with intense emptiness and purposelessness. That was the part I couldn't get past while I was also not eating--it seriously threatened to derail my fast, and I felt like I had to choose between quitting before I reached my goal or going back on the meds for the time being. I chose the latter.

When your emotions come back, they are extremely intense. I don't know if it's physiological, because of copious doses of neurotransmitters flooding the brain, or if it's psychological, in that you're just not used to dealing with them anymore. That's one of the reasons why the thing at grad school affected me so deeply: after my heart was changed, I had stopped taking them, and was still in that state of heightened sensitivity when I went to school that year.

Example: I was listening to something on my audio/video system today (I've got one of those boxes which receives pandora and youtube and all that), and when it ended, it autoplayed the next thing I had saved in my list, which was a gorgeous performance of the Nutcracker by the Kirov Ballet. So I just let it play as I went about my business, but then became drawn into it by stages until I was sitting in front of the big screen, breathless and open-mouthed with tears rolling down my cheeks from the mere beauty of it. The Nutcracker. I mean, it wasn't even something really intense like Hamlet or La Traviata. They probably would have wrecked me.

I'm doing more or less okay, though. Getting through the days and doing the things I need to do, and even moving back toward a more normal sleep cycle: I don't feel the need anymore to artificially force-shorten my days by going to bed early and taking nyquil and melatonin to knock me out, then taking it again in the middle of the night and sleeping late into the morning, just to reduce the number of unpleasant hours I spend in a day. Nor do I any longer take the lid off the cat food bin each night before bed in case my prayer to pass in my sleep is granted.

Something Beautiful

Here's something to dream over; a complete set of first edition Andrew Lang fairy books.

This, I think, was the art of bookmaking at its highest. The beauty of the exterior was as magical as that of the interior, and it was as appealing to the eye as it was to the imagination. One can imagine how having a set of books like this in the nursery could have nourished the intellect and stirred the imagination of a Victorian child. If it had been me, I think I could have been content to have dwelt alone with my books and my dreams. Even now, I would love to have these in my library. I could spend countless hours lost in Fairyland.

"I say Wolf, for all wolves are not of the same sort; there is one kind with an amenable disposition – neither noisy, nor hateful, nor angry, but tame, obliging and gentle, following the young maids in the streets, even into their homes. Alas! Who does not know that these gentle wolves are of all such creatures the most dangerous!"

-- Charles Perrault, original author of Little Red Riding Hood

The Final Phase

I ended my fast four weeks ago. I bottomed out at 189 pounds and 18.7% bodyfat.

The past month has been one of rest and recovery: it takes the body some time to adjust to eating again after six months of being deprived. The digestive system has got to come back online, and the body has to rebuild its stores of glycogen and whatnot. There is inevitably some significant weight gain--it's unavoidable--but most of it is just muscles being replenished and re-bulked. So after a month of resting and eating--clean, healthy food, but as much of it as I wanted (with the exception of one night I allowed myself for eating pizza, donuts, gummi bears, and chocolate. And beer!), I'm at 212 and 21% bodyfat. That means that out of 23 pounds re-gained I've only put on 3% bf, or about 6 pounds, which really is not bad at all; like I said, it's just unavoidable, because when you end a fast your body goes into hardcore, overtime fat-storage mode. It's a survival mechanism.

So, now for the final phase of my fitness quest: tightening and toning. I've decided not to go back to the gym for now, and leave weights alone completely--I really don't need to add any more bulk; if my arms get much bigger, I'm going to have to get my shirts tailor-made. Instead, I'm going to focus on functional strength and overall athleticism, doing bodyweight exercises and concentrating on good form. My current workout is:

3x/week:
3 sets of 10 good morning squats; an exercise of my own creation, which combines a prison squat with a good-morning to work the lower back.

3 sets of 10 perfect pushups; no fudging, body plank-stiff, chest all the way to the floor.

3 sets of 10 incline pullups. I'm not quite where I can do that many regular pullups yet.

3 sets of 10 burpees. Hoorah! Burpees are the the exercise that makes you feel like you're exercising.

3 sets of 20 situps. Again, no fudging: no rocking or bouncing, except maybe at the very end to get a little beyond muscle failure.

Full-body stretching. Few things feel as good as a really good, long, slow stretch after a hard workout. And with all my injuries, it's a necessity.

2x/week
A hike on the Appalachian Trail, with a light day-pack (and a high-tech knee brace). Up the mountain, rest, and back down, about 3 miles.

Diet: about 2,000 calories/day of good, clean, healthy food. Chicken, eggs, tuna, fresh vegetables & fruit, Ezekiel bread, olive oil. My biggest challenge these days is actually limiting my fruit intake: I LOVE fruit now. It's fun to have a pizza and candy night now and then, but I really don't even crave that stuff anymore. I'll save it for holidays and special occasions.

The final goal is to get back down to about 189, but with more muscle mass; at somewhere between 10 and 12% bodyfat. Which looks like this:

Espouse Obfuscation

Sometimes I love this stuff for the sheer density of its language. Like the satisfaction you get from chewing on something really dense and crunchy.

"Nay, even if Plato thinks there exists one [world] of which this of ours is the image, that likewise must necessarily have similarly to undergo mutation; inasmuch as, if it is a 'world,' it will consist of diverse substances and offices, answerable to the form of that which is here the 'world': for 'world' it will not be if it be not just as the 'world' is. Things which, in diversity, tend to unity, are diverse by demutation. In short, it is their vicissitudes which federate the discord of their diversity. Thus it will be by mutation that every 'world' will exist whose corporate structure is the result of diversities, and whose attemperation is the result of vicissitudes. At all events, this hostelry of ours is versiform, --a fact which is patent to eyes that are closed, or utterly Homeric." -- Tertullian, On the Pallium

All this (and this is only a small extract from the entire argument) to say that "change is natural". This is why I love reading the old translations rather than contemporary ones: the Victorian and other pre-modern translators didn't try to dumb it down. They assumed that their readers would be intelligent and educated. This is why I don't like modern Bible translations, either--as translations, that is--the texts on which they are based is a different question. For instance, the Orthodox Study Bible I've been reading bases its translation of the Septuagint on the New King James version, and it seriously irritates me by translating what was, in the Authorized Version, translated as "stranger" in the Law as "resident alien". As in, "Remember that you were resident aliens in Egypt". Why? Is "stranger" too difficult for moderns to understand, or is it somehow politically incorrect? Every time I read it, I get a picture of Mexicans and green cards.

J.S. Bach - Toccata and Fugue in D Minor: Amy Turk, Harp

I'm speechless. A completely different perspective on both the harp and this piece. Magnificent.

Miss Meadows

This may be my new favorite movie.

A very well-done, darkly twisted (yet surprisingly deep) story. Of course, the premise is kind of silly, and the whole thing is rather tongue-in-cheek, but it works. And most of all, Katie Holmes captures that indefinable quality of feminine Charm as no one has since Julie Andrews played Mary Poppins--the kind of allure that makes a man say that he'll marry her in federal prison if he has to. And mean it.

I've only met one woman in my entire life who has that kind of unique loveliness. I don't know if it's the times, or if they were always so rare, although I suspect the former. If so, something beautiful has gone out of the world, and the world is a poorer place for it.

Father

Thirty years ago today, I first became a father.

The first child is the one you make the most mistakes with. And especially when you're so young, like I was, it's easy to get sidetracked, and hardened, and forget who you are. You get on a path because you think you're being responsible and realistic, and doing the right thing, and you become someone else; someone you neither recognize nor like. And the ones who depend on you are the ones who pay the highest price.

Lord, forgive my many, many mistakes as a father, and be a Father to them in those places where I failed.

"When you've found out who God wants you to be, you'll never want to be anyone else."

-- Bill Johnson

We Know it Was You

Congratulations to my dear friend Maggie on the release of her second book! So proud of her. This one's a mystery novel for young people, and is superbly written, with crisp, sharp, and smart prose, interesting, nuanced, and unconventional characters, and themes that are complex, layered, and thought-provoking. Maggie has addressed some very deep and controversial subjects, while maintaining an intriguing story and an atmosphere of fun and humor, as only a truly masterful writer can, and produced something genuinely unique and memorable. Well done, sweetie! I love you.

Peter, Paul, and Mary - Wedding Song

I had completely forgotten that this song existed. It's one of those that gets overdone until it becomes so mushy, cliché, and sentimental that you get sick of it and start to hate it. All through the seventies and into the eighties, it was everywhere. Every time Hollywood needed to make a horrible "modern" wedding scene with self-written vows (gag) and artificial tears, this was the song they schlepped out.

But it popped up on my recommendations after I posted the other Peter, Paul, and Mary song yesterday, and after a break of thirty years or so from hearing it, I'm able to appreciate it again; it's quite lovely, both in its music and its sentiments. (I also never realized when I was younger how beautiful Mary was.)

Or maybe I've just become a sentimental fool.

I've composed another masterpiece, just now, while working in the garden. Sing it to your favorite tune.

Who's that grunting in my forest?
Are you a bear or are you a boar?
Are you a big, bad buck in rut?
Or are you just an itty bitty bunny?

Peter, Paul, and Mary - The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

I'd never heard this rendition of this song before. Beautiful.

"It was like people just lined up to let her down, and then acted like it was her own fault for expecting anything else. If there was one thing she'd learned in Florida, it was how much people will resent you for expecting them to be anything but predictable and petty and passionless." -- Maggie Thrash, We Know it was You

Kathy's Song - Simon and Garfunkel