Friday Surprise

An Assortment of Literary Jelly Beans

Happy Friday, folks!

As is our new tradition, here’s a hodge-podge for you.

Act I: Elmer the Hulk

I just sat down to compose this - something that’s nuanced, uplifting, subtle, humble, deft.

Then I looked out the window. My enemy was afoot, his little rabbit-ey ears pricked and alert, hopping so stealthily. The coffee was ignited, an afterburner kicking on with a roar.

“YARRRRRGH! I’LL GRAB YOUR LITTLE RABBIT-EY EARS!”

I rushed out the door with a mighty yell. An ancient predatory instinct kicked in as I chased. Unfortunately, modern reality and the awareness of fresh socks hesitant to cross a dewy ocean of clover curtailed my pursuit.

Don’t worry, folks. I’ll never grab him by his ears. Once I had him cornered in the marigolds. It was a hesitating hand that rummaged, and a grateful one when he escaped. You see, he’s getting too comfortable around the gardens, and too comfortable around me. There’s a respect gap that I fear I might be counterproductively addressing, given the roar to results ratio. He seems to be gradually catching on that a pretense of hopping should be effected anytime the strange giant starts bellowing. I guess it’ll have to do.

Act II: Fire up the Printer

I’ve got a call with a lady from the Webb telescope team this afternoon. Mark your calendars: the first images are due out on Tuesday! I’m building a class for the blind kids, so we can all design a 3D print of the information that makes sense. I’m firing up that printer, and doing some mad experimenting. Let me know if you have any ideas!

Act III: On Soapboxes

“JESUS THINKS YOU’RE A LOSER!” he thundered. My grin almost split my face. “Now here’s some drama” I thought.

I’ve mostly enjoyed my move to Lynchburg, with it’s quieter pace and no traffic. I have missed the high culture of having three world class orchestras perform regularly, and of course, the singular weirdos.

Why, on any given Sunday, one could wander down to the White House, and watch the ruckus. The Palestinian lady with the Israeli flag, shouting something about Jesus through a bullhorn was so good, I can’t quite remember the details. If you go to Vegas, are you gonna remember all of the lights? New York is, of course, unparalleled in fervor and variety of causes. Even Richmond had it’s Jihadists, with their camcorder speeches and 1970’s graphics of why I was the Antichrist. I’d be on the next street corner, playing my electric broom guitar. Now that’s living.

So far, our local street preacher just talks about regular stuff.

Saturday morning is for the farmer’s market in my book, so there I was, ready to cross the street, when another man leaned over, and flipped off the preacher’s amp.

Ohhhh the preacher was mad. “YOU CAN’T SILENCE GOD! YOU CAN’T STOP JESUS! JESUS LIKES WINNERS, AND YOU’RE A LOSER! JESUS THINKS YOU’RE A LOSER, SIR! YOU WILL STAND AND ANSWER FOR YOUR SIN!”

Now this made it feel like home.

I have the doubly bad trait of relishing drama, and the tendency to point out grammatical or theological errors of the enraged. “But they’re so obvious!”

I guess I’m a bit like Samuel Meredith in The Four Fists…“But it is certain that at various times in his life hittable qualities were in his face, as sure as kissable qualities have ever lurked in a girl’s lips.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

I realized he could probably see me smirking, so I swallowed my smile. Hadn’t I just been riveted by the audio rendition of C.S. Lewis’ The Great Divorce? Inspired to leave the personal baggage behind, and transcend? So, I ate it, and politely took the flyer offered by his young daughter. We all get bugged sometimes. I get it.

Isn’t it weird how easily we become (in a bad way) the message we’re delivering? Imagine if the mailman thought himself the writer of the love letters posted. This strange fusion, this taking of credit by proximity, this license through osmosis - it seems to corrupt. Motivational speakers tell us how to live, instead of how they have surmounted an obstacle. Unfortunately, sometimes I’m the keeper of the stars, and street preachers send Jesus to settle personal vendettas. It wouldn’t be worthwhile to point out if we couldn’t correct it, though.

Act IV: Short Book Reviews

I’m trying to figure out how to stop this soapbox fusion in myself, and so far, have no answer. Perhaps it’s just awareness. So, in light of that, I’ve got a short book review for you. I guess the best I can do is to say that I enjoyed the aforementioned C.S. Lewis book, as well as the Thomas Paine one just completed, and you might, too. I found them illuminating, thought provoking, and a call to a higher state.

Why I found them so is probably less relevant to you that I’d like to think, so I’ll leave it at that. I once looked at the review of a Johnny Cash record to see if the vinyl was a quality pressing. Some guy wrote what he thought of the song instead. Really, dude? Ha!

Have a great weekend!

• Josh

Flowers bloom by the wayside, Lynchburg, VA