they are sad in their suburbs... they are lost in their houses i've heard them sing in the shower... this weather has me wanting love more tangible.

something i can hold, cause it's getting cold.

Transcendence in every word deed thought breath.. Today has been a great day of reflecting and creating and being out in the beautiful sunshine, exercising and enjoying SF. LOVE music sung by the artist who wrote the lyrics.. Never more heartfelt and sincere. When I was younger I saw things as very black/white. Sacred vs. Profane. --Locked the devil in the basement threw God up into the air-- These days I seek to be an enemy to all that numbs. Transcendence and truth can be found in so many places. Any place I think. Did Jesus sit in the temple with the pretty, moral, upright (externally). Not as often as he was out with the most scandalous members of that society. Prostitutes, tax-collectors, Samaritans.... I believe in the exception!!!! Jesus came for the exception. MK is the exception. Jesus loves and even enjoys, LIKES the exception. Or would we rather be white-washed tombs. In mourning and ashes, brokenness and sadness. Jesus was (and is now) THERE among the hurt and the sinner. Identify with the broken, the sinner, mar. You are whether you know it or not... --now and again it seems worse than it is, but mostly the view is accurate--- that's why I loved Dostoevsky's C&P. Such brokenness, inner turmoil. Jesus has felt tormented. He was personally tempted by satan; he cried to the extreme to sweat blood in anguish and dread. That's the reality of what it is to be human. We need Him. And it's His kindness that leads us to repentance (romans). Thanks to Jesus we are already as welcomed as we will ever be, regardless what we do or don't do (if we know Him/ have a relationship with God through Jesus). But we seek Him and study His Word because of love. The perfect love we are ever searching for (nookin fo nub in all the wrong places- lashante's version). --so we trade liquor for blood in an attempt to tip the scales (miller's lifeboat), I think you lost what you loved in that mess of details (searching for fulfillment and missed the point altogether), they seemed so important at the time now you can't even recall any names faces or lines it's more the feeling of it all (more than the sum of parts-- synergism- though not so much in the Arminian sense but the D. Miller sense) -- The Bible's not a bunch of bullet points or outline but full of poetry, song; it's art. It's RELATIONAL. If we look at simply the facts, we miss the point. More like falling in love than baking a cake (miller again). All my Bright Eyes listening has fallen right into the topics of City Church sermon's and Searching For God Knows What reading alike. Feeling a need to reread Everyday Apocalypse.
Loving both the imagery and relational aspect of John's gospel.

never trust a heart that is so bent it can’t break

Now the sky is a torn up denim and the clouds are just splattered paint
It’s a room I’m renovating, it’s a name I got to change
If I get out of California I’m going back to my home state
To tell them all that I made a mistake

Because everything, it must belong somewhere
Soundstage in California, televisions in Times Square..
Because everything, it must belong somewhere
They locked the devil in the basement, threw God up into the air
Everything, it must belong somewhere
And you know it's true, I wish you'd leave me here
You know it's true, why don't you leave me here?


Got a cricket for a conscience
Always looks the other way
A cocaine soul starts seeming like
An empty cabaret
Hey, where have all the dancers gone?
Now the music doesn't play
Tried to listen to the river
But you couldn't shut your mouth
Better take a little time to level out
I never thought of running
My feet just led the way


Your class, your caste, your country, sect, your name or your tribe
There's people always dying trying to keep them alive
There are bodies decomposing in containers tonight
In an abandoned building where
A squatter's made a mural of a Mexican girl
With fifteen cans of spray paint in a chemical swirl
She's standing in the ashes at the end of the world
Four winds blowing through her hair
he Bible's blind, the Torah's deaf, the Qur'an is mute
If you burned them all together you'd be close to the truth still
They're poring over Sanskrit under Ivy League moons
While shadows lengthen in the sun
Cast on a school of meditation built to soften the times
And hold us at the center while the spiral unwinds
It's knocking over fences, crossing property lines
Four winds cry until it comes
And it's the sum of man
Slouching towards Bethlehem
A heart just can't contain all of that empty space
It breaks, it breaks, it breaks
Well, I went back to my rented Cadillac and company jet
Like a newly orphaned refugee, retracing my steps
All the way to Cassadaga to commune with the dead
They said, "You'd better look alive"
And I was off to old Dakota where a genocide sleeps
In the black hills, the bad lands, the calloused east
I buried my ballast, I made my peace
Heard four winds leveling the pines