Sunday, December 20, 2009

The barren desert,
a bitter return,
not wrought by unexpected change
but rather by a lack of change,
nothing new reaches the senses,
for the traveler comfort should be found
In home and memories of the past
but in the season conceived for change,
any turn to what is past
appears to be regression,
Should the soul embrace
what once for him held peace?
It cannot be for'er forgot

but no longer does it harbor joy.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid out faery vats,
Full of berries
And the reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters of the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.

W. B. Yeates


Tuesday, August 18, 2009

I am at Biola.
I am in Torrey.
I am in Ignatius group.

Sunday, May 24, 2009


it steals my joy and undermines my love...

In the worst of times jealousy bitter desire and covetousness of anyone...nay everyone who has more, can do more or lives better than I...
my heart is being stretched and torn by wishes and hopes without action...until it has created a false image, a false Pauline for itself....

Psalm 37
Trust in the Lord, and do good

dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.
Delight yourself in the Lord,
and he will give you the desires of your heart.

Commit your way to the Lord;
trust in him, and he will act.
He will bring forth your righteousness as the light,
and your justice as the noonday.

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him;
fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way,
over the man who carries out evil devices!

The only way against it is trusting in the Lord...

believing in his perfect power to perfect you...

in that there is peace!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

the new music this week

We are listening to some new Aussie music... Xavier Rudd, Blues n' roots/alternative.... Midnight Juggernauts Indie Psychedelic Zouk... And finally, Cut Copy, electropop/dancefunk...
listen to it before you write it off.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Our reading for this month: Edmund Spenser...
The Faerie Queen is an epic poem celebrating, through fantastical allegory, the Tudor dynasty and Elizabeth the I....It never ceases to amaze me how the most pious and righteous of men(kind) can be seduced and deceived by the tricks of 'Sathan' and of that horrible city of Pride which has swallowed so many...
Even the holy Red Crosse Knight falls pray sometimes to these wiles.

Saturday, May 9, 2009


I wish you could see it better but I don't have a scanner just a poor camera...

Friday, May 8, 2009

Speaking of insanity... I present for your consideration, Salvador Dali, the Spanish surealist artist, who had an irrational fear of locusts. Above-"Morphological Echo"

"Three Sphinxes of Bikini"
"Soft Construction with boiled beans" A premonition of civil war, this a representation of the state of the Spanish when in civil war, alterantley grasping up at themselves and holding themselves down under foot...
"The Burning Giraffe" In the distance is a giraffe with its back on fire DalĂ­ described this image as “the masculine cosmic apocalyptic monster.” He believed it to be a premonition of war...
"The Face of War" Dali often claimed that his works were premonitions of war...this painting was done between the Spanish Civil War and the second World war.

The Soloist

out of all the movies of the year, I am so excited for this one! haven't seen it yet but the plan is, soon.


In other news, the animal collective and MGMT are excellent bands which should be listened to so go forth and listen...If anyone is finding amazing new music keep me uprised...

One cannot live well without beauty.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder

The Hopeless Homeless?

I've always wanted to be homeless, maybe its just a romantic idea...
theres just something about being free from all atachments....
an insanity...
is being crazy so bad?