Dearest and Lovely Olof,
last night at Choir Meeting i thought how you on my arm would induce the gathered to melt into flatulent puddles of jealousy and self-loathing.....careful, they are venomous and toxious puddles, yea verily. anyhooo......i had a moment's fright: a lovely young man named Justin visited with us and when he first came into the room his aspect favoured that of my evil bastard first ex-husband sufficiently to induce me to begin climbing out the window. fortunately Sister Sanders and Dr. O were able to intervene and my ninja-esque capabilities remain a secret. ah, Olof, he is quite lovely. sadly, he's an interior decorator and that's such a honkin' cliche that it is an obstacle i cannot see my way through, around, or over. i am certain that the blissed moment would be too brief a treat before my antagonism towards folks who believe that fashion is real would assert itself and ugliness by necessity would ensue because my delivery of corrections in attitude, perception, and umwelt, righteous and beautiful in the eyes of the Lord, would be quite traumatic to those with delicate sensibilities.....and by delicate i mean too tender from an unfortunate improper ego-investiture ........here, Delectable Olof, cue the weeping violins.
Oh, Olof. tonight, i begin my descent into drudgery and will be back at work....healing the sick and raising the dead....if any doubt my thesis that freedom is a lie and we are all slaves to something or another then they should certainly ask why we do these self-harrowing and ego-depleting things. i am a slave to the paycheck as are most folks.
i find i'm thinking of the Rev. Albert Wagner's painting of the Exodus a lot, lately. here's a photo of rev. wagner standing in front of his Exodus. the photo doesn't begin to encompass how immense and powerful this painting is....i do wonder if i'm hankering for finishing with "the rough side of the mountain." since that night when Amy lost her composure over her young patient wanting so much to die the problem of restoration is one that i'm niggling with......i think dancing might be the answer....it's one of the things i feel mournful for when i think of Friends.....unlike Sanctified Baptists they don't get to explode into ecstatic transport. Urvashi Vaid was more right than i think she appreciates when she, in passing, notes that dancing is essential for queer folk, "we touch the face of GOD" and it's the same reason the Sanctified Baptists "juke to de altar" and the Sufis whirl around and when Mahalia thunders about "movin' up a lil' higher" to "march 'round GOD's altar" i'm beyond dead certain she means "dance". i believe it is a beautiful thing to find that place perfectly between the quietly waiting, deeply discerning Quakerly mystical experience and the fiery, ecstatic transport of the Sanctified Baptist....somehow at once deeply centered and rooted yet far beyond the self. difficult dichotomies are powerful engines of grace.
Ah, Olof, i began this entry as a self-indulgent descent into silliness and self-mockery and just look where we've ended up! maybe i should blame your "Silent Shout" which is looped and percolating away in the background as i'm writing this.......where it came from and where it goes doesn't matter. simply "is" makes all the explanation needed tho' why would anyone "need" it?
Dearest and Lovely Olof,
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| Olof being mysterious and 'kinky'.... |
last night at Choir Meeting i thought how you on my arm would induce the gathered to melt into flatulent puddles of jealousy and self-loathing.....careful, they are venomous and toxious puddles, yea verily. anyhooo......i had a moment's fright: a lovely young man named Justin visited with us and when he first came into the room his aspect favoured that of my evil bastard first ex-husband sufficiently to induce me to begin climbing out the window. fortunately Sister Sanders and Dr. O were able to intervene and my ninja-esque capabilities remain a secret. ah, Olof, he is quite lovely. sadly, he's an interior decorator and that's such a honkin' cliche that it is an obstacle i cannot see my way through, around, or over. i am certain that the blissed moment would be too brief a treat before my antagonism towards folks who believe that fashion is real would assert itself and ugliness by necessity would ensue because my delivery of corrections in attitude, perception, and umwelt, righteous and beautiful in the eyes of the Lord, would be quite traumatic to those with delicate sensibilities.....and by delicate i mean too tender from an unfortunate improper ego-investiture ........here, Delectable Olof, cue the weeping violins.
Oh, Olof. tonight, i begin my descent into drudgery and will be back at work....healing the sick and raising the dead....if any doubt my thesis that freedom is a lie and we are all slaves to something or another then they should certainly ask why we do these self-harrowing and ego-depleting things. i am a slave to the paycheck as are most folks.
i find i'm thinking of the Rev. Albert Wagner's painting of the Exodus a lot, lately. here's a photo of rev. wagner standing in front of his Exodus. the photo doesn't begin to encompass how immense and powerful this painting is....i do wonder if i'm hankering for finishing with "the rough side of the mountain." since that night when Amy lost her composure over her young patient wanting so much to die the problem of restoration is one that i'm niggling with......i think dancing might be the answer....it's one of the things i feel mournful for when i think of Friends.....unlike Sanctified Baptists they don't get to explode into ecstatic transport. Urvashi Vaid was more right than i think she appreciates when she, in passing, notes that dancing is essential for queer folk, "we touch the face of GOD" and it's the same reason the Sanctified Baptists "juke to de altar" and the Sufis whirl around and when Mahalia thunders about "movin' up a lil' higher" to "march 'round GOD's altar" i'm beyond dead certain she means "dance". i believe it is a beautiful thing to find that place perfectly between the quietly waiting, deeply discerning Quakerly mystical experience and the fiery, ecstatic transport of the Sanctified Baptist....somehow at once deeply centered and rooted yet far beyond the self. difficult dichotomies are powerful engines of grace.
Ah, Olof, i began this entry as a self-indulgent descent into silliness and self-mockery and just look where we've ended up! maybe i should blame your "Silent Shout" which is looped and percolating away in the background as i'm writing this.......where it came from and where it goes doesn't matter. simply "is" makes all the explanation needed tho' why would anyone "need" it?
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| Olof as "Oni Ayhun"...... |
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