Revision

There is a cave where myths attempt to rewrite themselves. They scrunch faces in earnest, dog-ear every forlorn fragment of emotion. Draft each sigh and squeak, thinking maybe something will come of it?

Seeds scatter on the hard packed earth. Candlelight flickers, scanning each wall and surface whether glistening with the grease of warfare or patched with the rough burlap of sturdy sack and trade.

Some beat their chests, some cower by the bullocks. Every shadow hewn and splayed.

Eurydice asks Ophelia, "Should I translate this under water or under earth?" Ophelia turns to Hamlet, "Am I not tender? Do I not wash over the skin like holy water? Be satisfied, love." Hamlet turns to Zeus, "How much control do you really have? Is every time mundane or do you jump at the sheer snap of every bolt?" Zeus turns to Hera, "Must we always choose matriarch or patriarch?" Hera turns to Eurydice, "Always send the reader under earth. If you stay on top there is nowhere to go. Except down, of course."

On the other side of the room Daphne tests, "We are revisionists." wrapping her lips around every prodigious sound. Unsatisfied with the taste of it, she keeps clacking away on her trusty Ticonderoga. "Did you know?" she asks Apollo, "poet laureate comes from bay laurel which was wreathed upon winners each and every Olympic games?" Apollo isn't paying attention, nods, hums. "No one remembers," Daphne laments, "the origins of things or the loss-side of battles." A few minutes later Apollo falls asleep under the boughs of a new laurel. It's inevitable, this falling asleep... a daily end we're all fated for.

Little snippits

Those little jerks (I say lightheartedly) of the SPC Youth Group decided to break into my soft-cover jeep this past Sunday. So as I neared the youth room I was met by a clown car full of laughing kids. I’m told if I took much longer they would have released the emergency break and pushed my vehicle to the other side of the church parking lot. Haha, if anybody in the youth group is reading this post --- shame!!

I should also mention that I finished John Green’s Paper Towns a few days ago. ::Sighs longingly:: Why are fictional characters the easiest ones to fall in love with? Here’s the text on the front cover sleeve, “Quentin Jacobsen has spent a lifetime loving the magnificently adventurous Margo Roth Spiegelman from afar. So when she cracks open a window and climbs back into his life - dressed like a ninja and summoning him for an ingenious campaign of revenge - he follows.” ... ::sighs longingly again::


So what’s new with me?
*Recently discovered the song Sometime Around Midnight by The Airborne Toxic Event. Love the lyrics, wowsers.
*I’m really loving the youtube video “Lessons Learned in Youth Ministry.” Haha, these Youth Directors speak truth! I’ve posted the video below.
*If you want “uplifting” in a different sense of the word then check out the youtube video “Fairy Fall” :-D
*Word of the day: dirigible











Just for fun:

Daphne,
The sun with all its fiery fury
loses a little heat each day,
did you know that? Becoming
a hardened shell of what it once was.
-Apollo

Eurydice,
You’re not the same since your trip.
Someone taught you some new things:
some tongue and fire. There is a grit under
the surface. Something buried
that’s been uncovered.
-Orpheus

Hamlet writes in his journal-
“The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remember’d.” Hmm... remember’d? How far must I go to erase sins? Or memory? To hurt? To save? To enact the type of saving hurt or hurting save that can wash away the mess of it? Every decision is plot - I can’t disentangle from it.

Eurydice,
I thought I saw you the other day in a shop.
There was a hint of movement, a peripheral familiarity.
I looked closer - whatever I saw disappeared into shade.
-Orpheus