Friday, 25 July 2008
-
Currently Listening
Mozart: Requiem / McNair, Watkinson, Araiza, Lloyd; Marriner
By Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Sir Neville Marriner, Sylvia McNair, Carolyn Watkinson, Francisco Araiza, Robert Lloyd
see relatedA Prayer from the Antichrist
"Lord—Protect my family and me," reads the note published in the Maariv daily. "Forgive me my sins, and help me guard against pride and despair. Give me the wisdom to do what is right and just. And make me an instrument of your will."
I'm a little pissed that anyone stole this from the wailing wall. I'm more pissed that one conservative news source called this an "Obama publicity stunt." I'm tired of the cynicism. It's always easy to criticize. It's especially easily to criticize someone who believes anything passionately, hopefully. Oh, I can hear you sneering.
But aside from all this, I find myself deeply moved by this prayer. It's a prayer that convicts me, as a Christian. It's a prayer that has me thinking about sin, about God's will, about the divide between pride and despair.
Because all this movement can easily be labelled hype, and I've been worried that I'm "carried away" with this "idealistic" candidate. And I don't want to be that guy. The person who refuses to see why someone would ever want to vote for anyone else, the person who is totally uncriticle and, like, totally crushing on Obama. I want to resist this pride, this myopia.
But at the same time, I refuse to descend to despair... I refuse to see Obama as just another pandering politician, full of one liners and false hope. I refuse to believe that the only "wisdom" to be achieved is cynicsm.
Obviously, I'm not expecting to convince anyone to change their vote. But I am, for the first time in my very short life, whole-heartedly endorsing this candidate. And you can say I'm part of the hype, part of the "youth hysteria," and that's fine. That's your perogative.
But today, honestly, I believe in hope. And it feels good.
It feels downright American.
-
recommend
- recs 0
-
share
-
email
- sent 0
Post a Comment
- Back to sammuel's Xanga Site!
- Note: your comment will appear in sammuel's local time zone: GMT -06:00 (Central Standard - US, Canada)
Comments (9)
for some reason the hordes that read your every blog entry have left this one strangely untouched...
maybe its obama's "victory lap" around Europe.
oh, and your old poem/thing assembly/portfolio is in the library where i sleep, and i read them all. some were exceedingly masochistic, samm. we need to talk. LOL. i really thought that the poem you won the prize for was superb though.
Samm, you left your pipe tobacco and that purple shirt here. Which sucks, because it's not even a shirt I'll wear. :).
However, I've been sprinkling a little bit of the pipe stuff into my rollies, and it makes them taste much better.
It was good to see you, practically unreal, and i am building a ship of plans right now to sail to pittsburg for thanksgiving.
ha, I didn't even read this. I like that shirt. @Chasing_my_Helen -
thanks sam, thats exactly the kind of thing i'm looking for. critique, telling me how to do it better. i added on to that story, and i feel like i ventured out into other areas more. READ IT!
Did you move yet....or do I have one more chance to hang out with you?
an ex-priest with a baby? theres not alot of need for talking there, for sure. what is the reason for this film? I mean, why would you make it? whats the cataclysm? does there have to be a cataclysm? do you have any of the whys answered yet?
how are you doing leaving behind chicago? transitioning okay? making new friends? maybe if you aren't making new friends right away you'll focus more on creating. I feel like thats how it works. Social life/skills vs. being creative. The weirder you are, the better you write. something like that.
anyway, that poem i wrote recently is really something that I felt deeply about. It's as close as I've come to expressing what it is like for me. Maybe its not sufficiently detailed, but I think if someone really paid attention to it they would understand pretty well.
The night was bitter. The priest had woken late, in the absolving blackness. His feet were cold. He took the large pile of blankets he was lying under and rotated them. When his feet radiated under his chest' warmth, he tucked his face down into the covers until only the back of his head showed and slept.
He was woke once again by an alien sound.
In the blue gray before sunrise.
When there is no warmth in the light.
The sun a spinning circle of ice, powerless still against the ground, impregnated with cold by darkness.
The small sound was heard again. A weak voice, one to attract predators of all nature.
The priests' synapses fired sluggishly. Realization was sudden, still.
He heaved the quilts to one side and stood on the stone cold slats of wood. He banged out through the doorway, clipping his shoulder on the frame. The floor creaked in anticipation.
The stoop stood a few yards off the street, behind a hedge. On it sat a flimsy plastic trash-can. The little animal within mewled softly.
The priest thrust his hands inside, grasping something smooth and cold like marble. He pulled it out. Before him, held by an arm and a head, was a child. It chocked and tilted its eyelids open. LIke the dawning of time. Twin blue chrysalis.
He backed in through the door, still holding her out in front of him like a crucifix to ward off some evil.
Taking a towel from its hook, he placed her in the washbasin, turning the water on. He soaked her in the steaming water, ignoring the cries of pain that issued forth from those lips. He rubbed her small limbs vigorously.
+++++
This is something I wrote last night at a party. I'm not sure if its the right format or the way it should be written but it is the way that I saw it. You remember Susan? I was discussing this with her and she said that if there is a part in it for Julia (who is living in NY and being an actress) and if it is a good script she would be willing to help finance it. She wants to see "Waking Up Alone" and read some of the things I've written.
I had some other kind of preliminary questions
Prostitute; is she attractive? Why is she a prostitute?
Priest; Why did he choose to become a priest? How does he view his own act? as an inevitability? does he feel guilt? anger with himself? dissatisfaction with his will power? What kind of priest? Orthodox, Catholic? Where is it set?
Jack and Jack road trip? Sounds exciting, and fun. Dunno if Sarah would like that much, and we'd have to wait til we had a coworker, which should be just after Thanksgiving. Then of course Jack's birthday, X-mas, but maybe I can do it as a birthday present for myself. A little vacay time. I'm still mad at you for not setting up some time with us though. Punk.
@JackBradfordSr - Yeah, I'm mad at myself. Basically, I ended short changing myself on time, working late, the usual.