A New Direction

Okay, okay, enough of the siliness already. I can tell by the enormous influx of feedback I have recieved that nobody was as amused by the whole latte incident as I was. This is not surprising, as I really could have predicted that from the beginning. So, by way of atonement, I have continued in my never-ending quest to bring YOU a better blog, note the tweaking at right. I think every single one of those pages, in retrospect, is run by a woman (with the exception of the Prince, I think). Oh well. If anybody knows any supremely awesome web pages that are run by men, pass them along and maybe they'll make their way into the hall of greatness. Maybe not, since I'm so obviously biased, but never give up hope, I always say.

Anyway, in a schizophrenic sweeping of the pendulum from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other, my offering today is extremely serious. It's a piece of creative work that I did while at L'Abri, probably the most satisfying piece I've written since leaving college, so I like it, even if it's not necessarily "good." It's a little stream-of-conscious a la Faulkner, tho it's not a comparison I would take any farther than that. It's from the perspective of the Gerasene Demoniac, a tale which you can find in Mark 5 and Luke 8, if you are of the Bible-thumping persuasion. Hope you enjoy.

***

there is no time before them, before dark, before pain. maybe someone else knows of it. i don’t know. they hit, they cut, my hands, they take them. my hands, they beat me. my hands, they take up rocks, my hands, they beat me, i bruise, they laugh, are laughing. my hands, they take them, my hands. tombs, yes, tombs, yes, living tombs, loving tombs, yes dead, yes beyond dead, yes worse than dead. oh, please be dead. end. dead.

my hands, they tear and cut, my hands, my body, all cut, all bleeding, all bruising. rocks, shackles, cutting skin. i tear. half-speaking, others come. they bind, only touch is ruthless, touching, end, come for the end, yes, please. it is not for us, but for them, the chains, shackles, ropes, stones, spikes; binding us. no matter. they break them all and i bleed. i bleed again, broken ropes, broken chains, broken wrists. blood, rocks, dust, blood.

many days. many, many days. why so many? where the end? god, let me end. end me. they will never end.

who is it? who comes? they know him, oh god, what is he? what is what, is light, is he? the end? they, we, stagger me to him. we will kill. he will tear, will cut, will break, they will end him and consume me forever. oh god. not you. not my hands.

he speaks. oh god, a light explodes inside, pain in, pain out, everywhere. chest breaking, back breaking, breath breaking. end me, end me, end me. they have me tightly, will never leave, not for you, Light, not for you will they end. end me. gasp and chuckle, stones, dust, sky, where is the sky? breath in, breath out, breath out, breath out, what is breathing? not my breath, i am closing, broken, they crush my heart with heavy, with the weight on them of you.

the ground is beating me when they are done. eyes open, there are his feet. dust, eyes, feet, dust, where is my breathing? my chest opens huge for the air to come back, it rushes out again until i am flattened. in and out, in and out hugely at his feet. i must send him away, must speak, must get past them. my words are theirs, theirs, mine, theirs. same question. same hate.

“What have you to do with me?”

you, Light, i see you, they see you and you are not with us, you are not of us. you, Light, run, take shelter from this darkness, why is Life in the place of death? why is Bread here with the only, only hunger? you, doppelganger, you must go, we are not of each other. Light has nothing to do with darkness and, what, oh wretched, oh god, what do you know of this pain?

“I beg you. Do not torment me.”

do not, oh yes, do not crush as a light must crush darkness. you, i see you, they saw you coming. you will wipe us all away, will brush away, fall away from you, from life, from light. I see it coming by your hand, the ending, a new, a deep, a deeper darkness. abyss is for us. oh god, please. oh Light, please. no more.

he asks my name. i used to have one. they took it, my name, they took my name. my name is Demoniac. their name is Legion. oh god, there are so many.

they speak, are speaking, speak through me. my voice is theirs. they want my life forever, host to parasite. we go, are going, all going to abyss.

my hands outstretched. please, Light. please, mercy.

suddenly, rushing. suddenly, light. wind rushing past as a thousand spirits not my own are leaving, departing, please, forever. rushing wind of spirits flying past and through. light, wind, sky, sweet grass, sweet sun, oh god. rushing wind of two thousand pigs running past, carrying my darkness. pigs, carrying my darkness into the sea. it’s a joke? my darkness destroyed, and yet i live? oh, Light. Wonder.

When I saw your face, I remembered beauty. They would not let me raise my eyes, but you sent them away and I could behold. You gave me clothes. You fed me. Then I could sit at your feet as a man and not as a wilderness. Inside, all was quiet. Where there had been a hundred voices, now I could hear only my own and yours. A stream of people came to marvel, to shudder, and finally to beg for your departure. But me you have never left since that day. Oh breath, oh life, how much you, Light, Christ, God, how much you have done for me! I am still sitting at your feet, listening to the fresh-water sound of your voice, gazing at a face brighter than the sun-glare off desert sand, a face like a son of man.

When I finally saw your face, I remembered my name.

Promises, Promises

So, as I promised, here it be. I know that you have all been deeply coveting, but the best that I can offer is a couple photographs. I had to get one from each side so you can see that there are four distinct colors. A kind of brick red and golden wheat color, and then a pea green and burnt brown. Something like that. Note also the little coffee bean design inside. The roses, of course, are from one of my beaus.