Tuesday, November 19, 2002

Thought of the Day

And it's an original, too.

"God and Friedrich Nietzsche were sipping coffee nonchalantly at a local diner, when suddenly they realized they were sitting next to each other. Nietzsche said, 'I don't drink coffee with dead people.' God replied, 'Neither do I.' They both sat silently for a moment, pondering, then each took another long drink."
"That's me in the corner...that's me in the spot light..."

I noticed that I have yet to really post anything of a religious nature. I don't know what this speaks about me personally, or about my stance on evangelism of any kind. I guess it comes down to the fact that my faith is a natural part of my life. Not a centerpiece, a flower arrangement on a coffee table, but a frame. "Wallpaper" on a computer screen. Background. Gives perspective, definition. I don't mean this analogy to explain importance. I don't know what i mean. What I'm getting at is that I'm not the type of person who will seek out "sinners" and try to rescue them. Most of the time, I'm in need of rescuing myself. And I refuse to stoop to such hypocrisy as claiming to have all the answers, or in some cases, even a good idea. I am broken. As such, I can't fix anyone else.

If asked, I could point you in the right direction, though.

So. All this to say, from time to time I may make some observations about "the church" or "religious people" in general. I can do this, in the manner of "Dogma" 's Kevin Smith, because I am one of them. Do not interpret this to be an "attack" on religion. That is not (usually) my intention. I just want to...comment, from time to time.


I never realized how gruesome the Christian faith is. Not in terms of brutality, mind you (settle down, all you Puritan hordes), but in terms of terminology. How gothic sounding can you get: "Draw me nearer to thy precious bleeding side"... "There is a fountain filled with blood..." "Up from the Grave He arose"... No wonder people outside the faith get a bit spooked. Hundreds of people singing in minor chords, verse upon verse about wanting to be covered in blood. All with sour faces. Creepy.


My church has grown over the past several years. We just opened up the new sanctuary recently. A marvel of technology and showmanship. Very nice stage facility. However one of the recent changes is a little odd. The music minister used to stand behind the podium and sing into the microphone. Then he started using a hand-held cordless microphone, which was okay. However, now, the AV people have him using an ear-piece microphone like Garth Brooks or a motivational guru. This would not be as bad, if it were not for the fact that this week, he was wearing an entirely too-hip collarless black sports coat, black slacks and shoes, with a black shirt under the jacket. There he was, shiny-faced, receding blond hair perfectly poofed and styled, making sweeping gestures as he slowly walks back and forth around the stage, leading the music. I half expected that at the end of the first song, for him to step to the front of the stage, and say, "Well, I hope you enjoyed your chicken salad lunch. So let's begin our second session. Now--how do we find your personal "Winner Within"..." Tony Robbins, watch your back.
Creepy Otherworldly Feelings

The other night, I had the notion to look myself up on the internet. Simply type in first name, last name, and see what happens. Wondering if Anything... will come up. What I found was unexpected.

I'm there. Or rather, my doppelganger is there.

David Mitchell. The author of Ghostwritten, which I find chillingly appropriate.

Review after review. Raving. Glorious.

He stole my name. He stole my name. He has the career I wanted.

He lives in Japan. Teaches university. He is THIN. I hate him.

So I did what any sane-minded internet user and reader would do: Went to BN to look this infidel up.

I found his book in the literature section. Was fully prepared to read a few pages, and rest easy in the knowledge that he was mediocre. I read the first few pages, then a few more, then skipped to the middle.

He's wonderful. He's a wonderful writer. Dammit. I actually verbally swore as I was reading it. I was that upset.

I'll have to go by my full name when I finally publish. But I will forever be plagued by the inevitable questions:
Reader One: "Have you read Dave Mitchell?"
Reader Two: "The guy who wrote Ghostwritten?"
Reader One: "No, the other one."

The other one. Dammit.

Wednesday, November 13, 2002

Been a long time since you rock and rolled...

Wow. Two weeks without a post. It's almost like I have a job or something.

The past two weeks have been spent worrying, stressing, putting things off, getting a few things done, and feeling rotten--with a brief two day hiatus from this tribulation period, in which I was able to leave the mess behind me and enjoy the comforting peace of being with the one I love more dearly than life. Unfortunately, I had to return Sunday night to this...job. I was tempted to call in sick, claim car trouble, or something of that nature. But maturity (?) and integrity (??) overcame tiredness and lovesickness, and I returned to the working world as I knew it. And I feel fine.

What else has happened since last post? Well, I had contact with a blogging hero of mine, who wrote me an encouraging email--that was a huge thrill. I went to see Punch-drunk Love, which i will discuss in an upcoming post, as well as the OBU production of Much Ado about Nothing. And I'm moving into the living room this weekend. Definitely more about that later.

So think of this as a preview, a trailer, a "Coming Attractions" reel. Grab your popcorn, sip your cola, and get ready for news.