an interesting thing happened to me on the way home from the forum

so i went to college and graduated. Then i went promptly into lower-class america. Why? I fancy myself a writer. some of my favorite writers wrote about or garnered insperation from the poor lower class.

Wordsworth. Dickens. Gilman. and to a lesser extent, Hawthorne and Wolfe. event Ray Bradbury, the author of the novel got me interested in creative writing had characters from the lower-middle class.

So, when i left Cornell to seek my fortune, i sought the slums and meager means to keep myself. When i found a job at a restaurant it was serendipitous. 'here,' i thought 'i can work and get food (occasionally).'

anyway, no more then tonight did the realization of my perdictament hit me. Recently, i ran out of money. literally. Went my place of employment changed the payday dates. I deposited my rent check before I cashed my check. As i lacked sufficient funds. my bank has a neat program were when i over draw, then they pay the differnce and only charge me 27$. thats right 27$. but there is a charge... but i digress...

so without money i was walking home with a handf full of soup (which that we were throwing away (to old)) that i dropped I realized the sadness of this life. "sad" isn't right. Sad makes me think "pathetic." and it's not that. ...Woeful. thats right. I live with great people who help support me. I love them. But in the moment that hot dinner- future meat- hit the pavement i felt my hunger more then any before.

I've said befor that i've not lived enough hardship to make a good writer. but i feel that understanding hardship brings me closer. It makes me wonder about all the world that doesn't have such an arrey of safety nets.

-marcus

for your consisteration

i've started reading The Inferno again. and its got me thinking. I'm no theologian. i don't spend alot of time or interest on the dogmas of common religions. I've got my own belief and thats enough, i don't feel the need for reassurance from others on my own knowledge(or ignorance) of the spiritual world.

never the less, there is, in religious mythos things that are... confusing to me. Enough so to draw my interest. Yesterday, someone mentioned thewayofthemaster i explored the site and decided that if it had a laugh track it would've been hilarious. instead, thousands (and more then i care to count) follow this deity.

Anyways, inflammatory commentary aside, one of the things about the Christian god that is curious to me is this:
#1 his is the pinnacle of morality.
we might agree, the christian world and i, that God is morally prefect. in fact, i would go so far as to suggest the Christian faith portraits a god that is Perfect. Plato's perfect.
#2 we mortals are *not* perfect. different branches of Christianity express differing views to the imperfections of humanity. Ranging from unforgivably sinful to mildly making up for the sins of our forebears. Justhesame, it can be agreed that Humans make a poor comparison to God. Yet we are made in the image of God. from wat i understand of the Christian faith, this means that we're all little replicas of God running around. And as it's suggested in Genesis and Milton's Paradise Lost, Adam and Eve were perfect. Letme diverge here a second. lower case perfect is different that captial Perfect. if anyone's read anything by Plato or wat Plato said about wat Socrates had said then we know that the mortal realm is just copies of the celestrial realm. so, then if humans are imperfect and they are a copy of God, then God must be Imperfect. However, it would be said this is untrue as Humans are given Free Will, and thus have the capacity to choice (or be influenced to) be imperfect. thus the imperfections of Humans alone don't reflect on God's
#3m the problem i see, however, is that if Free Will is the hinge that turns perfect images of the Perfect into imperfections, then doesn't that suggest that God, the Christian view of God, has no Free Will?

hm.
it's a conundrum.

I've got more to say on this topic, but maybe another day.

-marcus

lucjky

i found a shiny penny today.
it sparkled dear.
i bent to pick it up
and in my pokect it shines.

it's not a poem.
just a statement of fact.
i got a penny
and thats that.

-marcus

novel hiaku

a novel idea
i have. but how to give it
form is the question.


hiaku is easy
but often they are abused
five syllabol line.

blue moon makes fuzzy
life toleratable, yes.
moonshine also good.

this is the story of a rock

She never liked to known "a rock." by rights, she was stone, a boulder, heaved and thrown, cracked and stolen from bedrock. time had placed her atop a screne hill overlooking a meandering river and, for the forseeible future, it was her final resting place. Stone had never bothered to count the laps of sun-and-moon as they chased eachother across the heavens. She imagined that sometime, long ago, one had been prey and the other predator, but the roles where lost with the ages and only the path remained. although the hill was sparce of trees, the river feed the valley. It grew rich with greenery. fauna flourished and she watched with great interest the ballet of animal life, of caution and need, of death and survival, of sex and courtship, of solitude and socialism.

i think i otta stop posting here when i'm drunk ulnoe

too late? never?

I’ve lived too good, too happy a life to be a good artist. The canon demands me to be as interesting as the stuff I’m to write.

-marcis