The Thaw Before The Spring: 05/01/2009

NERDS!

(originally written in the car, on the way back from St Augustine,

Florida, May 15th, 2009 - transposed May 30th, 2009)

RE-ENTRY

HOLA faithful friends and voyeuristic BlogTravellers! Being completely

offline for a week was a treasure and a pearl on the ocean floor of my

life. But first, before I get to the text of all things Southern, and after

I perform a quick pen switch, I want to relay a top ten list as top ten

lists are just so 'rad' and 'kitchy'.

TOP 10 THINGS I WILL MISS ABOUT ST. AUGUSTINE:

10. Communal Fireside Contemplation

9. Throwing a softball around for hours with Owen and Landon

while having my feet submerged in The Atlantic.

8. Purchasing 'Microserfs' by Douglas Coupland at a run-down

thrift shop for $1.00 and nearly reading it all in 3 days.

7. Ball Park Franks

6. Publix (obviously pronounced 'Pube-Licks')

5. Freshly brewed bodum coffee to start each day at the

campsite

4. Date drinks with Sarah at the Mill Top Tavern

3. Swisher Sweets

2. Spending a rainy day at a Pizza Hut and a movie theatre

(where we 'payed' for Wolverine but 'stayed' for Star Trek)

1. The Ocean

North Carolina's endless cedars line my way back to the real world.

Although this trip wasn't anything ultra-galactic, I feel as though I am

Jean Grey becoming The Phoenix. I am re-emerging differently. I'm

not the same. And, to be totally honest, I can't really pinpoint the

reason for the change. There is no solitary event that specifically

protrudes like a plastic mountain on a relief map. The trip itself has

been representative - symbolic.

(I'm writing this in the car, by the way. 'Picture of Jesus' by Ben

Harper is playing.)

Sarah is pedal-down and has been as such for two full gas tanks now.

She is devoted. Landon and Owen are getting a little restless and

are...(end transmission).

I think I was about to write about Owen and Landon wanting to

get back to Ottawa to pursue life-like endeavours. The more I think

about that trip, the more I realize that it sort of got

compartmentalized - I shoved it down into my bag of life experience

and kept moving forward into the psychosis of daily schedules.

It's good to take a few minutes and unpack it.

It was a great trip - but I think it might be time for Sarah and I

to venture to a new place. We have made the St. Augustine trek

four times now. It's time to seek out new destinations. The world

has many and I have seen so few.

The big day of June 3rd approaches and all lasers, cannons and

motherboards point in that direction.

Sleep beckons me like a distant meadowlark on the telephone

wires of some Lanark County Summer highway.

I shall heed her call.

Rainy Chaos Part Troix

I

am

slowly

going

crazy.

This

rain.

It

won't

stop.

Rainy Chaos Part Deux

If someone in Ottawa has harnessed the technology with which

to make toilets run on rainwater, these past few days (and

tomorrow) would have made them a bundle.

Everything is still insane. No end in sight until after June 3.

Had a nice afternoon lifting boxes with Sarah at my dad's

office. Parking garages are friggin' weird and smelly.

Rainy Chaos

http://www.mandelbrot.ch/chaos/chaos_pic/Chaos.JPG

I have a whole blog written on the drive home from St Augustine.
I need to post that soon. Until my schedule clears, though, I'll
keep writing consciousness stream posts (and currently, my
schedule looks like it's not clearing until the fall).

I feel somewhat sickly - Playing softball in the rain probably
won't help, but what the heck.

LiveLIFE, DrinkMILK.

Curses Abound

http://www.jpsoft.com/images/Products/frustrated.jpg

I don't have time for this blog.

I really don't.

I have so much to do and this thing is like unnecessary
homework.

But I said I would do it.

So I will.

Joel, Cobourg and Northumberland Beauty

Still Burgin' it. I walked downtown earlier today with Sarah's
dad and had a coffee at Munro's on King St. I watched
disgruntled teens stroll by from the nearby high schools and
remembered the juvenile aspect of this town.

I'm supposed to interview Mister Plaskett later today.
And then I get to see him live at the Park Playhouse on King
St (a graduation gift from Sarah's parents).

What a day.

The sun hangs on my guilt and discontent - but I remain
in the shade for now.

It's gonna be good to see some old friends later tonight.

Back In The 'Burg

Cobourg is somewhere I will probably never be able to fully
escape throughout the course of my life. It is a hill town. It
is a townie town. But it is also a home - and I love it.

Sarah and I rolled into town to meet her parents at the bandshell
at the waterfront festival. I had memories of Dave Enns, SMAC
and crappy Timmy's coffee from the one on Burnham St that
had a horrifically planned drive thru.

You gotta love the 'burg.

Race Weekend Beacon

(To be sung to the tune of Neil Young's 'Rockin In The Free

World)

There are people in the streets

Wearing suntan lube

There are strollers in the heat

And yuppies ignoring you

I'll never get to be a runner, never get to be a jock

Never get to wear a sweater with a really frilly frock

There's one more race that my legs won't run

I only gotta make it to the goal of the Son

Keep on running in your cir-cles

You gotta have the gear

To fit into the mold

You can pretend you're an olympian

And bite into the gold

Cause the goal is to win - gotta get the best time

Want to leave 'em in the dirt of the Elgin Street swine

It's run by Nordion - a company from hell

But I really don't care cause my competitor fell (YEAH!)

Keep on running in your cir-cles

Eat Your Hate

Got to see my friend Derrick's band play tonight at the Rainbow.

Finally! I missed them last time they were in town.

They are dang good.

I like oats.

Downright Conflicted

http://waa.uwalumni.com/onwisconsin/fall01/images/emotions01.jpg

Today, I feel conflicted. A major decision needs to be made
and I feel like I lack the strength, wisdom and even
elemental energy to handle it. An opportunity has come
up for Sarah to be able to teach somewhere but I'm not
sure if that place is the right place for us...but more
specifically, I'm not sure if that place is the right place
for me.

For 4 years, I was in a city where I felt like a tag-along.
Sarah had a purpose - she worked at private school, was
a full time student and made a lot of good connections. I
just filled up spare time with odd jobs and didn't really
have much propelling me, personally. I know that I was
there for her - and I know I can do it again - but I feel
like Ottawa is a place where my gifts are thriving more
than they ever have.

Anyways, this is pretty personal, but I had to type it.
I had to lay it on paper and weigh it out.

Whatever happens, please pray (even if you don't pray,
just think on it) that the right way will be illuminated...
yes...'illuminated' for us.

Ballin' And Yes Y'allin'

Tonight was our first game of the season.

We were down 17-7. Our morale was low. We still lost the game

but ended up making it close. The final score was 25-24 in extra

innings. Pretty sweet for a first game of the season!

Luckily, some friends were in the bleachers to cheer us on
(Dave, Harley and Laura) which kept spirits high.

Ah, summer softball. It makes me feel young.

REACTION PONG!

http://weblogs.newsday.com/sports/watchdog/blog/pong.gif

REACTIONS ARE FUNNY.

What triggers the stimuli of any given human reaction?
What synaptic relay is the cue of our language?

These are things that interest me.

SILLY HUMANOIDS. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.

Jesus Came To Fuck Shit Up

I am so tired.

So astronomically tired.

So GAStronomically tired of the bunkered Christian thought
that fuses being like Jesus with not swearing. I have received
full blown lectures from people about speaking a certain way
so as to be a good example to their children.

It is a legalistic lock. It is a moral hang-up...
and it has NOTHING to do with Jesus.

It is appearance-based garbage and I will no longer have
any of it.

Jesus came to correct a flaw - yes. But he also came to 'wake
up the sleepers' (as referenced in Ephesians 5:14 as written
by Paul about the citizens of Ephesus who found themselves
backsliding into legalism and false judgement of everyone in
their own community).

It's fascinating how someone can be so focused on language
(i.e. the use of expletives) and because of that horribly askew
focus, lose sight of the ultimate goal; to love another as we
are loved.

To really be like Jesus - and I mean to REALLY be like him -
we have to un-learn what we have learned. We need to fall
down prostrate on the floor of past knowledge and open
ourselves up to challenge. The only people that Jesus really
got along with well were his homies - the 12. Outside of that,
He was mocked, beaten, scolded by church officials and
ultimately killed for embodying truth. Jesus only promised
that following him is not an easy road.

The road I have chosen in life will always put me at the seat
of scrutiny from those who are clued out.

Wake up, assholes. It's Two
Thousand and Fucking Nine. If
you cringe up when someone
'swears' and can't get around the
use of expletives and understand
that words like 'fuck', 'shit' and
'piss' are merely societal slang,
you are lost and I have
no time for you.

The Return Of Gavinoids

Alright folks. I'm back in bloggerland and do I have a pant
load to say. My writing vessels have been recharged and
refueled as they glisten with a petrolic shine. I will wax
eloquent, philosophical and inanely diplomatic in a way
you have never experienced before. I will 'hut' your soul
Aikman-style and fire it deep into the end zone of
existenstialist deluge.

It all starts tomorrow.

I'm back.

365 days of blogging continues. Thanks Brendan for your
altered perspective for the week.

Long Weekend Forgetfulness

You see, living in Kingston is kind of a timewarp. Oh wait - I should

officially introduce myself. My name is Brendan. Before I get into

this timewarp business, I should note that Matt asked me to run

his blog while he was away. So I did. I hope you all enjoyed reading

as much as I enjoyed writing - although it seems like I weighed a

little heavy on the theological diatribes (judging from your

comments) so I'm sorry if that bothered anyone. I am just a

passionate person. Sometimes, I like to wail out '40' by U2 on

my hollow-body and just sing at the top of my ever-burnin'

lungs.

Anyways - back to the timewarp thing (now that my long delayed

intro is out of the way). I forgot that this was the long weekend

and due to a late night bender with Todd Stelmach, 2 nuns, a

beagle and a cornish hen, I lost track of time. Whoops!

Anyways, this was my saturday post.

I believe Matt is back now and scratching off the remains of

his touristy sunburn.

You should be hearing from him soon.

Good men die before their time. Their wives and children weep with none to care. The old go daft with loneliness. The young turn sour. Faith's forsaken. Hope takes wing. And charity, the greatest of the three, is scarce as water in a drought.
And what have I done for God or fellowmen through all of this? My war is all within. For fifty years the only foe I've battled with has been myself. Above all else, I've prayed.

What's prayer? It's shooting shafts into the dark. What mark they strike, if any, who's to say? It's reaching for a hand you cannot touch. The silence is so fathomless that prayers like plummets vanish into the sea. You beg. You whimper. You load God down with empty praise. You tell him sins that he already knows full well. You seek to change his changeless will. Yet Godric prays the way he breathes, for else his heart would wither in his breast. Prayer is the wind that fills his sail. Else waves would dash him on the rocks , or he would drift with witless tides. And sometimes, by God's grace, a prayer is heard.

Voices, Derek Trucks, etc.

Something that find quite fascinating is schizophrenia. By definition it means something along the lines of, "a mental disorder characterized by abnormalities in the perception or expression or reality". I always find the textbook meanings humorous because while they are true in their description, it doesn't seem to do justice to people who actually suffer from it. We run into a lot of people who are schizophrenic in our end of town, one whom we're quite close with. It can be dangerous thing though, someone with schizophrenia can turn on you pretty quickly for no reason at all, and that's something we've had to be mindful of when we interact with the people we know. At the same time I don't want to stigmatize this disorder anymore than it has been, I mean, how could I? I'm not really any different than someone who suffers from schizophrenia, I am just as capable of taking something and twisting it around in my head until it's something altogether different aren't I? (Not that at all defines schizophrenia entirely...)

I know it's a bit strange to be talking about people who hear voices, but it makes me wonder about voices in general. I like how people who have found a form of expression that is truly theirs it's called "finding their voice". You know, those musicians, artists, writers, who can create in a style that is all theirs; it is unmistakably them. But what about those people who are so distracted by other voices that they could never find their own?

Anyway, I think it's time for a non-related musical tangent...

Derek Trucks could easily be the best guitar player around these days. He started playing when he was 9, and first started playing with The Allman Brothers Band when he was 12. He then began his own group, The Derek Trucks Band, who just released their most recent album Already Free, in January. I've seen Derek twice thus far, once with the ABB, and second playing guitar in Eric Clapton's band during his 06/07 tour. I could never describe his playing well enough so I'm just going to show this...it's pretty darn good...

Variations on an Epistle. (Robert Johnson and Shakespeare gave me permission...)

Got to keep moving, got to keep moving, blues falling down like hail. I can't keep no money, there's a hell hound on my trail.
And here I sit, in chains, in jail. While the love of Christ moves without fail.
If the day was Christmas Eve, and tomorrow Christmas Day. All I would need is my sweet rider - to pass the time away.

But don't these chains mean freedom, a grace that's freer than the rain? And I've never felt such joy when those Philippians came...
But still! To live is Christ and to die is gain.
I long for the day when you all stand as one, where you will kick at the darkness 'till the light swiftly comes.
And it's been granted by Christ to suffer and believe, but His death is not something that we've had to grieve.
For His blood was shed freely and our old lives have past, and though I'm bonded by chains I feel freedom at last.
So until that day comes when all will bend their knee,
and so long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Sour cream and dill flavoured chips/ M. Ward

I'm a sucker for chips. Barbecue, original, tortilla, I really don't mind. Any and all chips can and usually will find their way into my stomach at any given time, and I'm really okay with that. I'm not really sure what it is about them that causes my longing for them, perhaps I'll never know...or perhaps it's addictive chemicals, preservatives, and additives that tell my brain to chase after them insatiably (disodium inosinate I'm talking to you!!!). Anyway. I ended up giving up chips for Lent this past season. I think that was a good idea. One aspect of my chip indulgences I find particularly troublesome is the fact that I always eat them at those times of the day where you're just kind of hungry, and so you snack to make that little feeling go away. And so when I gave them up for Lent I enjoyed those times once again because I had to find some (ideally) healthy alternative to consume. But, alas, Lent is over for this year and I am back to square one.

Music for me this week has been defined by one man: M. Ward. I had first heard about him a few months ago when I read a review of his most recent album Hold Time in Rolling Stone magazine. I got it, listened to it a bit, enjoyed it, and then put back on the shelf. And then for one reason or another I got it back out again...and I must say, I am thoroughly hooked. This guy is the real deal. One song in particular has really moved me, it's called 'Rave On'. The cool thing about this song is that it is originally a Buddy Holly song from the late 50s, one that really hearkens back to the days of leather jackets, little deuce coups, and blissful post-war optimism. But on Hold Time, M. Ward makes this song into a work of art. A lush pop arrangement that still pays respect to the original tune, but adds a whole new landscape and sound to this record. The rest of the album is just as fantastic too, I would say. M. Ward does something I admire a great deal, he acknowledges that you have to be steeped in the past if you want to make something that is truly forward looking and current. Rave on, people, rave on.

Another day, another movie poster.

I'm back. Not a lot has changed since yesterday. I realize now that I have experienced such a unique and strange experience as this I see how, really, I'm just like the guy above. But, you know, instead of turning into a 12 year-old kid, I have turned into a 20 year-old kid. And as I think about this turn of events I have to wonder: did these things happen in order to get me out of my blog-writing slump? In the timeless words of Reverend Lovejoy, "Short answer yes with an if. Long answer no with a but".
That didn't really answer the question (nothing like a good Simpsons quote...) but it still has to make you wonder. Do you believe in coincidence? Does everything happen for a reason? I am one for this train of thought, it occupies my mind frequently.

And for all you readers out there, check out Frederick Buechner if you haven't already. He is a scarily gifted writer. I'm currently reading 'Goderic' and it is the kind of book that demands your attention. It's even written entirely in iambic pentameter for corn's sake! Another book of his that I have enjoyed immensely is 'Son Of Laughter', it rocked my socks off for lack of a better term; a masterful piece of fiction.
It's summertime. Go read a good book.

WHAT THE FRIG?!

Something strange has happened. It started out as a simple trip to Florida with my wife Sarah and our two friends Owen and Landon...and then, son of a vondruke, I turned into Brendan Lorimer?! Wow, just when you thought this blog was hitting the skids you get treated to a once in lifetime opportunity such as this.
It's too bad though, here I was getting so pumped to spend time on the beach, but instead I am now in Kingston, Ontario living in the House Famous and working at Next Church. It makes me wonder though, about how much we invest in our human-made plans. Do we make these plans for our lives as a means of control? Do we fear the submission and trust involved in giving our plans to God? Could be. Hard to say...

Anyway, I hope you all adjust to this transformation as easily as I did. Stay tuned for more mind-bending, provocative thoughts as I continue to learn what it's like to literally become someone else. This is getting weird...

Rock And Roll Highway

See that little space just below Jacksonville? That's where were

headed. With any luck, we will be there tomorrow morning.

All my bags are packed. It's time to start counting down hours.

Have a great week, all.

Perpetual Idiocy

It's funny how people (including me) stay stuck in their ways until

an almost volcanic disruption happens, forcing a stock-taking of

everything that is valid and valued. Why do we wait for the lava? Why

can't we change before our asses get burned? Just wondering.

I'm florida bound as of tomorrow morning and I'm sitting here,

online, while Sarah is running around in the apartment like a mad

cat. I know there are things I need to get done but I'm procrastinating

severely.

She just put a huge bag of bulk barn supplies in her purse. This

makes me glee-ful.

You may notice some changes on my blog while I'm gone, but mark

my words - this blog WILL operate for 365 days this year.

Whatever happened to old Jimmy Swag? Maybe I'll get the chance

to ask him, someday.

Mehldau Mellow

Some days, I know I'm just killing time until I re-connect with

The Maker. There is a broken line...and I feel it in every pulse,

every curse, every lost dream and every sad sleep. I long for

that line to be straight again.

Douglas Coupland once wrote about the mind being comparable

to a glass of water and that at age 30, the glass is mostly full.

After 30, the glass still contains water but a lot of it splashes

over the sides. That's how I'm feeling these days.

I'm happy but in the same breath, I'm not.

I'm awake but I'm tired.

I yearn for something just beyond my reach.

As the spring rolls in, let us all take a moment to admire the

sun that gracefully passes us all by one more time.

When My Train Comes In

http://imagecache.allposters.com/images/pic/DES/D1126%7ELionel-Trains-Posters.jpg

We stand at the station
We buckle our shoes
With heavyset shoulders
We sing the gunny sack blues

Watching for a light
Listenin' for a whistle
I'm wetting my pen
For my final epistle

Horses at the trough
Neigh in the heat
The gravel and sand dance
around my blistered feet

I'm just one of many
Waiting for my train
Gettin' ready to ride
And cut loose of the pain

Everyone's a watcher
Staring down the tracks
Carrying the weight
Of a billion mule packs

But the train don't go sideways
The train rolls straight
Cuttin' like a hot knife
Through sadness and hate

It comes for me
And it comes for you
When my train comes in
I'll know what to do

An Original Poem (By Human Paradox)

deadlines and duties,
desks and doorways,
dress shirts and deserts of boxes and files,
computer consoles and haggard souls,
waiting for time to shift the wind,
punching keys, building words,
towers of paper ideas,
losing, gaining,
sinning to win, and losing again,
chairs and clocks,
leather shoes over dress socks,
loopholes and lip service,
beamer keys and stacked PhDs,
proving, disproving,
arguing, constructing,
what's broken, fragmented, split,
unreflected, un-listened, unchanged,
bitterness grabs and shakes,
this desperation, this fatigue,
this frustration, this tightened line,
how much can one man take?
waiting for someone...
someone waiting for me,
it's different now,
where the sea meets the sky,
where the window opens,
to a clean wind,
to silence,
the mind burns down,
in the quiet night,

sleep...
the breath of mercy.

You Can't Kill What You Can't See

Today was a day and a half. It started with an early morning

buzz from my vibrating cell phone alarm clock. I hit the snooze

and slept a bit longer. At 8:20, I decided that seeing as I needed

to be at work for 9, it was time to rise. I rose. I had a lot of

things that needed to get done today...and they all seemingly

did get 'done'.

First off, I had to head in to work to make sure everything

was fine at Ecclesiax and that no alarms were going off and

that the mail was taken in and that the phone messages were

answered. After that, I headed on out to my old stomping

grounds - Nepean. I needed a new bank card and that's where

my home bank branch is located. After an easy cruise on the

417 (where I watched rows of cars stuck in effigy on the east

bound side), I popped into my bank and was out in minutes

(after a mysterious bank card issue). I grabbed a timmy ho's

large double double and everything bagel with cream cheese

(because I was craving as such) and hit the 417 again.

Knowing that I had to record an EP today in a short

amount of time, I prioritized everything that I needed to

do in the studio (i.e. who plays what, when each track needed

to be done, etc.). After a late arrival from drummer (due to

bowel issues), we were on track by 3 pm. It's now 2:28 am.

Everyone laid down their main parts. 4 songs. Done.

My pipes are toast...but I feel like I could still perform

live and do well. Everything was efficient.

I'm really looking forward to the happenings of this summer.

Quickie

Gotta write this one up in a jiff - time's a crunchin'.

Tomorrow is a massive day.

Here's my list:

1. re-activate my deadbeat bank card that apparently does not work.

2. record the new EP in the gallery studios (yes...I'm not kidding).

3. pick up Owen at 2 so he can maximize his studio skills

4. lay down vocals, drums and guitars thick and hard

5. get it done

6. book the rest of the tour

7. prepare for the St. Augustine trip next weekend

8. co-ordinate softball practice

I know there's more - it's all stuck in translation right now.

More to come.

Time To Make The Donuts

(Somehow, this post never went up before I left for work last night.

Oh well. It still counts.)

You are an animal. You eat what is placed before you. You vomit

and then return to it later, wondering what it is. You follow your

gut.

I am reason. I float systematically in a calm blue ocean of trust

and wonder. I delight in your mistakes. I love you.

Gotta go to work.

&*%$!!!!

Alright. It's official. I'm sick of this stupid blog. I don't know what

possessed me to say that I would undertake the giant task of blogging

365 days this year of 2009 but I officially...OFFICIALLY regret it.

I'm sick of forgetting until the end of the day and squeaking some

shitty post out just so I can write some lame entry.

Blah. Blek. Toilet Paper. I'm totally uninspired in the world of

writing. In fact, this blog detracts from my other writing projects

and makes me want to throw away my knowledge of the English

language. I hate blogs. I hate pretending to care about reading my

thoughts and the thoughts of other people. Who gives a rats ass?

No one. It's every man for himself.

I loathe blogging. I loathe bloggers. I despise Google with a fire.

The tabs at the top of my blog say 'Posting', 'Settings', 'Template'

and 'Monetize'. Tell me something, Google - how the FUCK am

I going to make money from a blog in the middle of a universal

recession? Monetize this.

I am more interested in cataloguing the different peaks and valleys

in the sound of my asthmatic cat's snoring than I am in writing.

The dismal whir of my fridge is far more intriguing that etching

this post. Picking navel lint would be a huge step of progression

from here.

Blog - I hate you.

The Thaw Before The Spring

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Friday, May 29, 2009

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Monday, May 25, 2009

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Friday, May 22, 2009

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Monday, May 18, 2009

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Friday, May 15, 2009

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Monday, May 11, 2009

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Saturday, May 09, 2009

Friday, May 08, 2009

Thursday, May 07, 2009

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Monday, May 04, 2009

Sunday, May 03, 2009

Saturday, May 02, 2009

Friday, May 01, 2009

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