Friday, December 30, 2005
Writing Prompts
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Online Graffiti
http://thewall.msn.com/?wallid=11>1=7480
King of the Hill Quote
HANK: Can't you see you're not making Christianity better, you're just making rock n' roll worse.
PASTOR K: You people are all alike. You look at us and think we're freaks. Come on, even Jesus had long hair.
HANK: Only because I wasn't his dad.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Booklist
This one was pretty good. It does make me want to read the third. In my opinion, however, it's been a long time since Preston/Child have written a satisfying novel. I'm a bit tired of Agent Pendergast. I wish they'd kill him off and start with something fresh. None of the Pendergast novels have been outstanding...only so-so. I wish they would return to the days of books like "Thunderhead, Riptide, The Ice Limit, and Relic." Those were outstanding books. I haven't given up on them completely but they have slipped down on my popularity list. None of my faves are writing as well as they used to. Crichton slipped a while back. Rollins is trying to be Dan Brown. Reilly's still doing okay but I haven't read his latest. Jim Butcher is still kicking butt and taking names although "Dead Beat" wasn't his best.
Oh well, I'll shut up now. Guess I'll just have to keep hunting for new writers who will satisfy my thirst for adventure. If you have any suggestions, let me know.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Christmas Sarah
Thanksgiving Day
Kitty Paws!
Mickey the Christmas Cat
Sunday, December 18, 2005
My Favorite Guitar Players
Steve Lukather
Eddie Van Halen
Neal Morse
Phil Keaggy
Steve Vai
Joe Satriani
Andy Timmons
Eric Johnson
Stevie Ray Vaughan
Ty Tabor
John Petrucci
Alex Lifeson
Larry LaLonde
Vernon Reid
Robin Trower
Pat Travers
Jimmy Page
Jimi Hendrix
John Frusciante
Tom Morello
David Gilmour
Neal Schon
Steve Morse
Lindsey Buckingham
Trevor Rabin
Frank Marino
Michael Roe
Derri Daugherty
Dann Huff
Where Have All The Guitar Gods Gone?
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Art News
LONDON (Reuters) - British police hunted for three men on Saturday who stole a huge bronze Henry Moore sculpture worth up to 3 million pounds ($5.30 million) and a spokesman said they feared the piece would be destroyed for scrap.
Police said the 3.5 meter long (11 ft 5.8 in) sculpture, "A Reclining Figure," was stolen from the Henry Moore Foundation in Hertfordshire, north of London, on Thursday night by three men who drove it away.
"This is a very valuable statue and we are working closely with the Henry Moore Foundation to ensure its safe return," Detective Sergeant Graeme Smith said, adding that the Foundation was offering "a substantial reward."
"We're keeping an open mind at the moment," he told Reuters. "It could be anything from an organized theft for persons in the art world, down to an opportunist theft for the scrap value of the bronze.
"It would be extremely difficult to sell it on as it is ... (and) that is what the people at the foundation fear."
British sculptor Moore, who died in 1986, is renowned for his large-scale, abstract work.
Moore made the sculpture in 1969/70. It was acquired by the Foundation in 1987.
To steal a painting is one thing. To steal something of this size takes lots of hutzpah. What do they think they're gonna do...sell it on Ebay? Postage and handling alone will bankrupt someone.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Finding Monique: The Zoo
Stephen King on Reading
Welcome Home
I won’t stay.
You don’t know what I want
What I need.
I disown you.
I don’t love you anymore.
I hate you.
...Don’t go.
See, I told you.
I’m doing fine.
Things are working out for me.
I have new friends.
I’m having fun.
I told you.
...Come home.
I’m lonely.
My friends are gone.
I’m sick.
I’m hungry.
I don’t have any money.
I’m scared.
...Come home.
I told you
That I disown you.
That I don’t love you anymore.
That I hate you.
I was wrong.
I miss you.
...Come home.
I see you.
You waited for me.
I’ve done you wrong.
You forgive me?
I fall into your arms.
You love me.
...Welcome home.
Copyright 2005 Marty Gordon
Tell Me
Did you ever leave the only home you’ve ever known?
Did you ever say goodbye to a loved one for a little while?
Did you ever cry like a baby?
Tell me;
Did you ever grow up poor, having to work with your hands to make ends meet?
Did you ever alienate those around you because you were different?
Did you ever almost get killed by the people you grew up with?
Tell me;
Did you ever get tempted to be rich and famous?
Did you ever go hungry?
Did you ever feel like the Devil was breathing down your neck?
Tell me;
Did you ever laugh at a wedding and cry at a funeral?
Did you ever trace a child’s cheek with your finger?
Did you ever hug a friend?
Tell me;
Did you ever embrace a man with an infectious disease?
Did you ever see a dead man rise?
Did you ever forgive a whore?
Tell me;
Did you ever share a meal with someone you love?
Did you ever pray for an escape from death?
Did you ever get betrayed?
Tell me;
Did you ever get put on trial for something you didn’t do?
Did you ever get beaten within an inch of your life?
Did you ever die?
Tell me;
Did you ever feel the coldness of a grave?
Did you ever descend into the depths of hell?
Did you ever see a dead man rise?
Tell me;
Did you ever see hope in the eyes of the hopeless?
Did you ever help a doubter believe?
Did you ever promise someone that you would return?
I did. For you.
Copyright 2005 Marty Gordon
Journal Woman
It's cool to look back on this (done sometime between '93 and '95) and see what's the same and what's different. I almost wish I hadn't drawn the little picture because without that, it is a 99% accurate description of Sarah. Pretty cool, huh?
Art Quotes
"Art, by it’s very essence, is of the new. And views on art must also be of the new. There is only one healthy diet for artistic creation: permanent revolution."- Jean Dubuffet
"Art is man determined to die sane." - Bernard DeVoto
"A painting is never finished - it simply stops in interesting places." - Paul Gardner
"No great artist ever sees things as they really are. If he did, he would cease to be an artist." --Oscar Wilde
"Through art we express our conception of what nature is not." --Pablo Picasso
"Art doesn't transform. It just plain forms." --Roy Lichtenstein
"Art does not reproduce the visible; rather, it makes visible." --Paul Klee
"Art washes from the soul the dust of everyday life." --Pablo Picasso
"We have art in order not to die of life." --Albert Camus
"Art is not a study of positive reality, it is the seeking for ideal truth." --George
"Art is the demonstration that the ordinary is extraordinary." --Amedee Ozenfant
"There is no must in art because art is free." --Wassily Kandinsky
"Art evokes the mystery without which the world would not exist." --Rene-Francois-Ghislain Magritte
"No amount of skillful invention can replace the essential element of imagination." --Edward Hopper
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Aslan Is On The Move!
Finding Monique
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Feed Your Head
The Church of Conformity
Ah, the postmodern, emerging Christian church. Crusaders of Non-Conformity and Creativity. And yet, the most conforming, least creative animals that wander this mighty globe of ours. Case in point...I've attended services at 2 separate churches on separate coasts but they are part of the same overall movement. Not much of a difference. People dressed the same. The music was the same. The language was the same. The messages were the same. This mighty church movement has spawned countless churches all over the globe but apparently they are little clones of themselves.
And this movement is certainly not the only place it's happening. Take Willow Creek. Many years ago, Willow Creek was at the cutting edge of doing church. So naturally, most new churches popping up copied Willow Creek. But after a while, the Willow Creek way became stale and old fashioned. Willow Creek is savvy enough to change with the times but these copycat churches are just plugging along using the same old models, same old songs, same old dramas, same old everything. Try as they might, the church of today cannot be called creative or non-conforming. What they can be called are copycats.
We (meaning leadership) need to be more concerned with training the new church to be independently creative. They can go to conferences and buy material to help them do church but do any of these resources train them to be creative on their own? I don't think so. If we were properly training these folks we wouldn't be seeing the same things over and over again. What I long to see is a truly creative move of God among the church. People who love God but can think for themselves and not conform to the church culture that is provided for them.
So, do not conform any longer to the pattern of a particular church but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to be creative.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
David Newton Revisited
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Scrooge Review
Bar Humbug - A Dickens of a 'Trial' at Taproot
By Nancy Worssam
Every year about this time, old Ebenezer Scrooge drops by to dampen our Christmas spirits. I'm here to tell you that he's back yet again. But this year, that crusty old curmudgeon has had the audacity to bring charges against Marley and the Christmas ghosts, those well-meaning individuals who showed him the error of his ways and brought joy into his heart.The crotchety old man is here to participate in a trial that is being held at Taproot Theatre.
Audience members sit as spectators in the courtroom as Judge Steve Manning presides over this somewhat out-of-control hearing. Scrooge, played ably by Nolan Palmer, represents himself with muttered asides, antagonistic postures and unacceptable outbursts. Solomon Rothschild, lawyer for the accused, is a gentleman through and through. Those against whom Scrooge has brought charges of kidnapping, assault and battery are well served by Rothschild as played by Kevin Brady. He is both gracious and friendly and treats all witnesses with respect. His conduct is in sharp contrast to that of the unpleasant Mr. Scrooge.One after another, the witnesses are brought forward. First, of course, is Bob Cratchit, a modest Mr. Peepers sort of guy who, though overworked and underpaid by the firm of Marley & Scrooge, doesn't complain. He tells the truth about his boss, and that is damning enough. Cratchit has been living on a salary of 15 shillings a week for 10 years, no raises, no opportunity to become a partner in the firm. Somehow, he's supporting a family of six children on that paltry sum. More damning evidence against Scrooge comes from his nephew, who every year invited Uncle Ebenezer to Christmas festivities only to be greeted by a dismissive "Bah! Humbug!" When Marley and the Christmas spirits testify, they make it clear that their visit to Scrooge last year was motivated by the best of intentions. They were only trying to save the man from himself.One would think that there's nothing in this case to favor Ebenezer Scrooge. Yet other witnesses attest to his sad childhood and forlorn love life with such fervor that the old man is reduced to tears. Maybe there's a reason for his penurious and mean ways. You'll have to attend the trial to find out whether Scrooge is successful in his lawsuit. I will, however, tell you that it's a disorderly courtroom, which eventually turns into a cacophonous melee. The bailiff is a buffoon. The witnesses can be quite unruly. One of them doesn't even show up. Others arrive with clanking, howling, flashing lights, or puffs of smoke.Although the play itself is only modestly funny and in need of a little tightening, director Scott Nolte has pulled out all the stops to turn it into a festive seasonal frolic suitable for the whole family (except for really tiny tots). He's assembled a clever company, which makes it all work.In a cast of good actors, the standout is Lindsay Christianson. As the Ghost of Christmas Past she's a winsome coquette. She also plays a sweet, naïve sister and a gracious lady. She's terrific in each role. Keep your eye out for this young lady, who's a senior in the University of Washington School of Drama and an intern at Taproot. She has the makings of a rising star. Sarah Jane Burch's costumes are charming evocations of 19th-century England. Men wear caped cloaks and long scarves, top hats and spats. The women carry furry muffs and wear poke bonnets and voluminous skirts. Mark Lund transforms the theater successfully into an English courtroom. His sound design and Jody Briggs' lighting work well in replicating the harsh brightness of a municipal building and then transforming the scene to create the creepy atmosphere needed for the apparitions of the ghost of Christmas Future and the dead Mr. Marley.This is not the traditional "Christmas Carol," but it's a refreshing take on an old standard. And it certainly captures the essence of the Dickens' story: the spirit of Christmas is about caring and generosity, and it should be in our hearts all year long.
Purveyors of Stupidity
Blue Like Jazz: Another Take
"I told a friend of mine yesterday, I feel like I'm in the process of leaving the Old Country headed for the new, but there is a long dark journey to be made inbetween. I wonder how many people decide to stay on the shores of the Old Country even though they know there is no real life there anymore. They stand longingly at the banks of an ocean they have to cross. God is calling them to cross that ocean, even providing a boat that He says would rival the ark of Noah. Problem is, he's making no promises about the weather, or about just who will survive the journey.
But it's pretty sure the old you won't.
Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz is a message from a man at sea. But by God, he makes me think there's a New World out there after all.
Anybody wanna go?......"
Angela's Baby Update
Saturday, December 03, 2005
The Trial of Ebenezer Scrooge
By Jeff Shannon
Special to The Seattle Times
Like any good sequel, "The Trial of Ebenezer Scrooge" offers a fresh spin on beloved characters, revealing new facets of their personalities while honoring familiar source material. As an inspired continuation of Charles Dickens' 1843 classic "A Christmas Carol," Mark Brown's holiday comedy is a welcomed companion to ACT's annual performance of the Dickens original: It's a sequel worthy of Dickens' approval.
Getting its West Coast premiere at Greenwood's Taproot Theatre, Brown's well-written "Trial" opens exactly one year after that miserly curmudgeon, Scrooge, had his Christmas cheer so joyously revitalized in Dickens' timeless tale of holiday redemption. As it turns out, Scrooge's yuletide spirit was in short supply after all; now he's grouchier than ever, filing charges of kidnapping, assault and battery against the chain-laden spirit of Jacob Marley and the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future.
"The Trial of Ebenezer Scrooge," by Mark Brown, runs Wednesdays-Saturdays through Dec. 17 and Tuesdays-Fridays Dec. 20-30, at Taproot Theatre, 204 N. 85th St., Seattle; $23-$30.
The clever conceit of Brown's play is that Scrooge (defying the adage that anyone who represents himself in court has a fool for a client), has built a pretty strong case: With a litany of grievances against his spectral tormentors, he holds his own against Solomon Rothschild, the defense attorney who calls a host of Scrooge's relatives and associates to the witness stand.
Mark Lund's handsomely appointed courtroom provides a perfect one-set showcase for the ensuing parade of lunacy, brought to life by a dream cast of skillfully comedic players under the direction of Taproot veteran Scott Nolte, whose attention to detail results in big laughs enhanced by small but important bits of business.
As legal rivals Scrooge and Rothschild, Nolan Palmer and Kevin Brady preside over chaos with an abundance of flair. Lindsay Christianson and Sabrina Prada play three roles apiece with impressive versatility. But it's pointless to single anyone out in a uniformly excellent cast — suffice it to say the ghosts are a highlight (both Marley and "Christmas Future" have their voices delightfully amplified), and Sarah Jane Burch's costumes are sheer perfection.
What's the final verdict? We wouldn't dare spoil the fun. Let's just say that Brown's play, and Taproot's entertaining ensemble, inspire good will that goes well beyond the holidays. God bless 'em, every one.
What a great mention for Sarah. The costumes are stunning. By the way, I am running sound for the show.
Antjuan's Show
David Newton
Andrea's Mishap
Angela's Baby: Charles Colton Candee
Friday, December 02, 2005
Booklist
Going to the Chapel!
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Snow in Seattle
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Booklist
This series is growing on me. I have really liked the last few books even though they are strange. Strange but pretty easy reads nonetheless. I believe this is the 5th one and as urban fantasies go, they're not too bad.
Angela Gives Birth
"I don’t know if you have heard yet, but Angela had the baby today around 4! She went to the hospital Monday and they gave her some meds to try to induce her. She starting going into labor last night, and today was in a lot of pain. Brandon said the epidural didn’t work! They ended up doing a C-section. I think she had a pretty rough time. She is resting now, and hasn’t even gotten to see Colton yet! He is NINE POUNDS! Brandon said he is beautiful and doing well. PLEASE keep Angela in your prayers as she heals, and the whole family in your prayers as they adjust to parenthood!!! I’m sure they will send us all a more detailed update."
Rent
I spent the 80's in art school. Several to be exact. It was quite the experience hanging out with all the tortured would-be creative types. It amazed me that more than half the people enrolled had no business being there. I guess they too had bought into the whole artistic lifestyle thing. I did not. I didn't (and don't) have to be a heroin/coke addict who experiments with alternative sexual lifestyles while living in squalor with a crossdressing voodoo priestess. I didn't buy into it and I did okay. (More than okay actually but I am not here to toot my horn today)
If not for the BS slung around NY during the 80's, some of my favorite artists might be alive and making art today. But as it is, Keith Haring died from AIDS and Jean-Michel Basquiat of a drug overdose. Heck, even a guy I knew in high school and later at Memphis College of Art died from AIDS. The lifestyle that folks were selling back then killed people. They were lead to believe that it would feed their creativity but all it did was feed on them until there was nothing left. So, perhaps I'm a mediocre artist (which I'm not) but at least I'm alive and still working. I may not be famous but I'm breathing and making art. That's a good thing.
Downtown Fun
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Booklist
Friday, November 11, 2005
Booklist
This book is very Da Vinci Codish which is not a bad thing. The action is fast paced and the characters are likable. Unlike his last book (Sandstorm) I enjoyed this one alot. I understand he is going to write more Sigma Force novels. That sounds good but I can't help thinking that the Sigma Force crew bear a striking resemblance to Matthew Reilly's Scarecrow and company. Seems there's a lot of similiar ideas floating around. I'm so glad authors don't copy one another. (ha!)
* Description from Publisher's Weekly
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Summersalt Writing
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Jean Dubuffet on Painting
"A painter's basic action is to besmear, not to spread tinted liquids with a tiny pen or a lock of hair, but to plunge his hands into brimming buckets or basins and then rub his palms and his fingers across the wall offered to him. He has to putty it with his soils and thick paints, grapple with it, knead it, impress upon it the most immediate traces of his mind, of the rhythms and impulses that drum through his arteries and course along his innervations. He has to employ naked fists or else, if they happen to be available, improvised instruments (a chance blade or small stick or stone chip) as good conductors that neither cut off nor weaken the currents of waves. After that, it scarcely matters whether you find few or many colors there or which colors they may be! How trifling an issue whether the white is a bit dirty or the yellow a bit drab. All you need is mud, nothing but a single monochromatic mud, if you really want to paint, and not just color some silk neckerchiefs."
Little Women
Green Bean Review
Friday, October 28, 2005
With the Green Beaners, kids -- and adults -- will find a happy scene
By REBEKAH DENN SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER REPORTER
There's already plenty of good karma to go around at the Green Bean Coffeehouse, but the supply just increases each time we walk into a radiantly friendly greeting from the counter barista, or hear the storyteller at 10 a.m. Tuesdays exclaim, "I'm so glad you came!" to complete strangers. Don't even worry about overstaying your welcome; flowery chalkboard script on the wall instructs customers to "sit long, talk much."
The real do-gooding is endemic to the coffeehouse's existence, though. It's all organic, free trade ... and dedicated to using its money to help others, with plans to become a registered 501c3 organization. Proceeds from the tip jar, for instance, go straight to the cause of the month, such as the $2,400 sent last month to the Salvation Army for Hurricane Katrina victims.
The artwork on display benefits those in need -- and is sometimes created by them, such as the fabric aprons assembled by women in the Amani Ya Juu program -- a training project, as the Green Beaners explain, for African women affected by wars and ethnic conflicts.
There are connections throughout the store to both local and international causes; one line of greeting cards benefits a downtown non-profit, another benefits schoolchildren in Sierra Leone.
"People are going to buy coffee anyway, right?" said Lisa Etter, who conceived the business with friend Hayden Smith. "Why not do something with it that's going to help people, and raise awareness?" The business is loosely associated with the Sanctuary church, which meets down the street at the Taproot Theater, but none of the money generated by Green Bean goes to the church, she said.
Neither cause nor comforts would matter, of course, if Green Bean's coffee wasn't good. Fortunately, it is: Beans come from Brown & Co. in Shoreline, lattes are well-made, there's a short list of decent food (quiche, soup and the like).
Bakery goods are better than average, with the big plus of being freshly made (some premixed), so that we sometimes walk in just in time for muffins or scones that are hot from the oven.
Decorations are warm and charming, from the china teacups and plates built into the corner fireplace to the colored prisms dangling from the ceiling lights. And, while all this positive energy could induce guilt among customers for their own shortcomings (remember that peanut butter jar that went to the trash instead of the recycle bin?), it seems to spread goodwill instead.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Summersalt and Other Writing News
Related to my writing, I just sold another script to Lifeway. I am very appreciative of Matt and his interest in my writing. Of course, it's important for me to maintain my present attitude which is that I don't do it to sell scripts...I do it because I have to. I write and make art in general because this stuff is inside me and it has to come out. If it doesn't, there will be found a stain of blood and letters where I exploded. Nice imagery, huh?
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Booklist
I liked this book. It was a simple read, a bit weird at times but pretty satisfying. I will admit, at times, it seemed as though he was writing as if to say, "Look at me. See how weird I am. So that must mean I'm cool." But I got past feeling like this and made it through the book. I really hope he's legit because it would be great to know there are folks out there that feel the same way I do about some things that have to do with spirituality, God and the church. Honestly, I can't believe this got published by a Christian publisher no less. Usually they only publish politically/spiritually correct stuff. So, Don Miller, if you are listening...Keep on truckin' and I'll pray that you don't get blindsided by the religious right some day.
*Book description from Amazon
The Total Dependency of Artists
most can never explain how they do what they do. There is no formula. I teach at writer's conferences but i don't believe in them. it is a mysterious process that occurs somewhere between the prefrontal cortex and the motor association cortex. Athletes work out, scholars go to class, but creators are at the mercy of something no one but God understands. like little children at supper, we say grace over it but can take no great credit for it's existence. it's something that causes great emotional tremors from time to time. it causes lack of sleep, lack of time, brief moments of tunneling, frustration on the behalf of spouses, and the inability to focus on other people and things during moments of artistic production. most artist have low self-esteem even though some may appear egocentric. Their low self image is rooted in the principle of muse. They are at the mercy of the muse because they don't know how the muse works. Much like most people don't understand the inside of a CD player and how it produces sound from digets.
i use the term muse even though i don't like it. all good gifts come from God but not everything artists write or say is God breathed- (IE Hollywood)
The constant thought of many artists who are living paycheck to paycheck is what if the thing i do, yet don't understand, stops working. what if i can no longer live off this insane gift. i have no other real marketable skills!
This is the thought of mostly writers and composers. (acting, directing, singing, preaching, and painting are aquired crafts that utilize artistic skills.) I would claim that the mortality rate for writers is much lower. Their brain's treadlife is much shorter.
so the nervous, emotional, artist continues to do what he can't put his finger on. He or she lives in a state of panic or grace totally dependant on God or some infinitely
lesser being to survive.
Sweeney Todd
Monday, October 24, 2005
My Giant Spider Pet
Tried to keep her as a pet
I really tried to hide her
But that was no safe bet
I hid her in the chimney
I didn't think and pause
On Christmas Eve she got hungry
And ate up Santa Claus
I put her in the basement
She thought that was a bummer
To get me back, she had a snack
And gobbled down the plumber
Next it was the toolshed
The perfect place, bar none
But little Tommy came to mow
And now his days are done
I checked her into a hotel
With room service and a view
The maid came by with towels
And now she's spider stew
I finally tried one last thing
I took her to my school
By end of day and last bell ring
I felt like such a fool
She ate up all the kiddies
She ate the teacher too
She fled to other cities
I don't know what to do
Her appetite will be her end
That eight-legged walking stomach
I really just wanted a friend
Not a pet to run amok
Copyright 2005 Marty Gordon
Halloween
Craziest night I've ever seen
Ghosts of white and witches green
Let's get ready for Halloween
Pumpkins orange and cats of black
Decorate your goodie sack
Light your way with Lantern Jack
Hope you find your way back
Paint your face and dye your hair
Friends and neighbors hope to scare
Knock on that door if you dare
The house is haunted, have a care
Monster mask and witches hat
Hey, there goes a vampire bat
Looks just like a flying rat
Maybe I'll go get my cat
We'll have fun with friends we meet
As we hollar, "Trick or Treat"
See what goodies we can eat
Getting candy sure is neat
Bob for apples, that's so fun
Candy corn for everyone
Cotton candy by the ton
Belly aches when we get done
Tell ghost stories in the dark
By the fire in Moonbeam Park
Hear that werewolf howl and bark
Think I'll feed him my friend Clark
Mummies rap and gargoyles play
'Round the fields and bales of hay
Come out at night but not by day
The sun returns, they run away
I hope you pick a costume soon
I started mine the 6th of June
I'm going as a grisly goon
Hope I don't look like a loon
Midnight tolls and Halloween's through
No more bats or ghosts that "Boo"
Costumes gone and candy too
Til next year when Halloween's new
Copyright 2005 Marty Gordon
Pics of Seattle
The Rock Church
To Think About...
"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." - Colossians 3: 23-24 (NIV)
NW Arts Ministry
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Theatre
Les Miserables (4), Cats (5), The Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, Chicago (2), Mamma Mia, Jesus Christ Superstar, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat (2), Phantom of the Opera, Phantom(the other version), Sweeney Todd (2) , Into the Woods, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Chicago (2), Dracula (the ballet), Will Rogers Follies, Stomp, On Golden Pond, Greater Tuna, Tuna Christmas, Hello Dolly, Arthur: The Hunt, Last Train to Nibroc, The Fantasticks (3), Story Theatre, William Shakespeare: The Complete Works Abridged, Art, Magdalene, Pippin, An Inpector Calls, The Foreigner, Voice of the Prairie, The Complete History of America Abridged, The Wedding Singer, The Trial of Ebenezer Scrooge, Night of the Iguana, L'eliser D'amour, and Evita.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Bainbridge Island and Other Fun
After a nice day there, we came back, hit a gallery or two downtown, then went to Adam and Heather's new house for prawns. (We calls 'em shrimp down south) It was a nice time and their house has a kickin' view of the surrounding area.
This past Saturday, we met my friends Chuck and Andrea at the aquarium. (with their two kids, Tommy and Chrissy) It was fun but too short a visit. They invited us up to Whidbey where they live for a weekend. Here's hoping we can find the time to go sometime.
We're doing our best to see all the sights and sounds that Seattle has to offer a couple of financially challenged folks. One day we'll get it all done.
Booklist
The Paper Doorway: Funny Verse and Nothing Worse by Dean Koontz - Surprisingly charming, these poems are in the vein of Shel Silverstein (the undisputed master) . I enjoyed this book but it was uneven. Koontz should stick to horror and leave the poetry to others who are better at it like...
A Pizza the Size of the Sun & It's Raining Pigs and Noodles by Jack Prelutzky - Very funny and closer to approaching the quality of Silverstein's stuff. Loved it!
Making Friends with Frankenstein by Colin Mcnaughton - I love this guy! He's nuts and very warped. My second favorite after Silverstein. His book "The Aliens are Coming" is also great.
Last Train to Nibroc
It's hard to believe that playwright Arlene Hutton wrote this charming and thoughtful romantic comedy only five years ago. Last Train to Nibroc, currently playing at Taproot Theatre, hearkens back to a simpler time when a play could succeed without offering eye-bleeding spectacle, verbal pyrotechnics, or the definitive answer to the meaning of life. The small but surprisingly entertaining Last Train to Nibroc has far more modest intentions, offering the audience only the pleasure of watching two well-drawn characters on a mostly bare stage as they navigate the eternal mystery of courtship. It's 1940 on a train bound east from California carrying the bodies of Nathaniel West and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Raleigh (Timothy Hornor), a young soldier with ambitions of becoming a writer, takes a seat next to a pretty but very proper girl (Charity Parenzini) who dreams of doing missionary work in far-flung locales. But the soldier has just been mysteriously discharged and the girl isn't quite as prim as she seems. For the next three acts—spanning three years—they talk, they laugh, they flirt, and they argue. In less capable hands, it could have been insufferable. But director Karen Lund has carefully marshaled every element of stagecraft—evocative scenic and sound design by Mark Lund, lovely costumes by Sarah Jane Burch, and strong but subtle lighting by Andrew Duff—to lift the story and let these two heartbreakingly talented actors take flight. It's the darnedest joy to watch. TAMARA PARIS
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Booklist
The Magician's Nephew by C. S. Lewis - The beginnings of Narnia are explained in this book as Digory and Polly embark on the adventure of a lifetime. It's interesting to start with this one. I've read "LWW" but I am re-reading it and reading all the others that I never read. Although interesting, it's not necessary to know how Narnia began or how the witch came to be there. It's just enough to revel in the magical world of Lewis' creative mind.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Catch Up Time
- I'm temping at 5th Ave. Theatre in downtown Seattle. The plus for this is I get paid hourly and I'm getting comp tickets to "Sweeney Todd." That's good because Sarah and I wanted to go but couldn't afford it.
- I had a job interview at Bethany Community Church yesterday. The position is Admin. Asst/Receptionist. A very uncreative job but pays ok with benefits and it's full-time. They wanted to know if it would bother me to do mundane stuff and not be creative. Heck, I just need a job and working for a church for $10/hr is better than working for some crappy corporate retail hell more or less the same. At least it is a job of substance and eternal reward. I hope I get it.
- Sarah's cat, Max, has been acting weird of late so we took him to the vet yesterday. He seems healthy enough but they did blood work and will let us know today. He's hiding out alot and eating little and won't let Sarah have anything to do with him. (And he's an affectionate kitty usually)
- I've signed on to run sound for the Christmas production at Taproot which means my free time until the end of the year will be nil. It will be fun and good experience but it will stretch me (perhaps farther than I want to go) and burn my candles at both ends. (unless I don't find a day job for some reason)
Guess that's it for now. I miss blogging on a daily basis. I am journaling at night before bed but it's hard to get much done because I'm so tired and I want to leave time for reading. SIGH. I need more time for creativity in my life.
Monday, October 03, 2005
Church
Computer Access
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Booklist
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Beware of Limbo Dancers
on the bathroom stall
Much more profound
than words penned on a wall
As I squat in the mists
of my mexican lunch
I'm at my most vulnerable,
pants down in a bunch
Paranoia creeps in,
I look left and right
The gray painted partitions
are all that's in sight
Am I in danger?
My mind doesn't know
Then faintly, through plumbing,
I hear calypso
It builds in it's timbre, the volume grows high
Then under the door
I hear a small cry
The scuffling of feet
then the tip of a toe
Before too much longer
a whole leg will show
His body, this dancer,
contorts like a twig
Bent backward grotesquely
in his gymnastic jig
By now, I see torso,
then shoulders appear
His arms flail like windsocks
Skilled balance without peer
The last of this human
comes under the door
Six inches to clear
from bottom to floor
His tightly wound face
tells the story of strain
Once done, he'll be spent
He can't do it again
With one final grunt
And a sigh of relief
He clears the six inches
and grins like a thief
He jumps with a start
as my person he's spied
I lean on my knees
and say soft, "Occupied."
Copyright 2000 Marty Gordon
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
2 Poems called "Wow"
Lots of things are wow.
Life is.
Love is.
Art is.
Faith is.
And on and on.
Too bad today
Was an anti-wow day.
Wow.
Wonder of worship.
The joy of praise.
The celebration of creation.
Wonder
As in child-like.
Eyes wide open
Seeing things in a new way.
Wonder
As in, "What is it?"
Leads to discovery
Or more questions.
Wonder
As in miracles.
An act of wonder.
Wonder
As in innocence
Curiosity.
Eyes wide
Mouth open
Blood rushing to our head.
We discover
Witness
Ponder
The incredible
And all we can say is
Wow!
Copyright 2000 Marty Gordon
Jackhammer Clock
Slipping
Slipping
Slipping
Into the future.
Slip it does
But not quietly.
Time is a noisy passing.
It throbs with cardiac pulse
Like a jackhammer clock
In your head.
The staccato
Click
Click
Click.
Comforting?
At times.
Mostly maddening.
Pounding insane rhythms,
Reminding you in 4/4 time
Your life is wasted
If only you had tasted
Faith
Hope
Love.
But no.
Those are false.
Truth is
Fear.
Existence.
Loneliness.
The jackhammer clock
Beats on
With cardiac pulse
Until
Misfire
Misstep
Mistake.
The jackhammer clock
Beats no more.
Peace at last.
Copyright 2000 Marty Gordon
Nathan Olivera on Art
Chuck Close on Art
Antuan
Inspired by the Movie "Contact"
Has struck you
And no one else.
A light from the sky
Hits your eye
But you can't tell.
There are no words that can prove.
You can't deny your heart is moved.
No one believes but that can't sooth
The dawning faith that's come to you.
Contact.
It's a message from above.
It's believing in the love
That has gripped you.
The force that has tripped you
Into taking that path
You've never seen before.
Contact.
It's a joy you can't explain
Falling down on you like rain
That will soon dry.
They can't see with their eye
The life-changing flood
That you're diving into
After something much bigger than you makes
Contact.
Copyright 2002 Marty Gordon
Monday, September 26, 2005
Leaving Ruin
LEAVING RUIN, a warm, poignant tale of a small West Texas church in the nowhere town of Ruin, centers around Cyrus Manning, preacher for the First Church of Ruin--Church of the Bible. In his eleventh year at First Church, Cyrus has come on difficult times. He and his family--Sara, his wife of almost twenty years, and his two young sons, Wayne and Richard--face an unhappy congregation, with an impending congregational vote on the horizon. Cyrus believes "the nays have it" and he cannot make heads or tails of the situation. A thoughtful, prayerful man, Cyrus grapples for some sense of God's leading. His once vibrant call seems distant, but he wants to serve. Is his ministry over? Must he face a new life, a new home, a new career? And if so, how?
LEAVING RUIN chronicles the tough, often humorous battle of a man chasing the will of God in a time of what seems to be divine silence. Cyrus rummages through memories and old dreams, but the characters inhabiting his past offer no answers, and his frustration is ever on the verge of spilling into a shouting match with the silence. Through his humor, his lament, and his faith, Cyrus wrestles with God, hoping for a break in the silence, hoping finally to hear that elusive word of blessing and affirmation, a word that sometimes comes only with quiet. Finally, he must speak to the congregation. Should he fight, yield, or be silent? A surprising gift offers no easy solution, but Cyrus may yet find the faith and courage he needs to go on.
LEAVING RUIN is a story-telling adventure calling us to love and faithfulness, even in times of God's silence, trusting that His call and wisdom will come, though it may be murky, and not necessarily what we had in mind.
Pearls To Swine
Don't be flip.
You're not hip.
You're just throwing caution to the wind.
Reducing God's word to a slogan.
I can't help but think that's a sin.
The world's quite used to gobbling up swill.
There was no gourmet bistro on Golgotha's hill.
Chorus
You're throwing pearls to swine.
You're just wasting time.
A pig is smarter than a dog
And they've made up their mind.
They're doing just fine
On the slop on which they dine.
So don't waste your time
Throwing pearls to swine.
Verse 2
Serving drinks
To what stinks.
You'd best save that vintage for another day.
You're a fool.
Go to school.
Learn the lessons that keep the pigs at bay.
The hogs are thrilled to wrestle down in the mud.
But you best be careful or they'll drag you down, bud.
Repeat Chorus
Copyright 2002 Marty Gordon
There is a Light
Called the one true thing.
It shines
Like a golden ring.
It shimmers
Like a song we sing.
And it will never
Go away.
No.
It is here to stay.
Get Smart (A Call to Learning)
Mind numb.
Knowing zip.
What a rip.
Never read.
Never feed.
Brain dead.
Empty head.
Open up.
Fill the cup.
Drink it down.
Go to town.
Use it
Or lose it.
Don't waste
The taste.
Take heart.
Get smart.
Filling the Creative Well
Reaching the bleached brain.
Tabula rasa.
The blank slate.
Chalk up the cue.
Make a mark
To start
The learning.
One stroke of the pen
Followed once again
By another
And another
And another.
Filling the blank canvas
Of the mind
With knowledge sublime.
Ignorance fades.
Wade in the pool
Of knowing.
Fill up.
Teaching.
Reaching the bleached brain.
Color the mind.
Learn.
Romans 15:13 (Bovine Version)
How low can you mow?
If the grass won't grow
No green can be seen
Where once green had been.
It's brown.
Big frown.
Head down.
Where will you meet to eat?
Shuffle your feet.
Move around.
Look around.
Still brown
All the way to town.
What now brown cow?
Lose hope?
Sit and mope?
Learn to cope?
Stand by?
Moan and cry
Until you die?
No.
Stay
And obey.
Yield.
Be healed.
Soon there will be
Green fields.
Hold up your chin.
Grin.
Begin again.
How now brown cow?
So much hope
You can't cope.
Peace
That will never cease.
Copyright 2002 Marty Gordon
Friday, September 23, 2005
Fall in Seattle
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Church
More Weird Poetry
He blows his nose with style
He has a tie dyed handkerchief
To deal with all the bile
So now he's making sculpture
Some people think it's vulgar
To shape and pose things from his nose
He's a clever little booger
Minnie Merle's a hula girl
She shimmy's, shakes and dips
It takes a lot of stamina
To tell stories with one's hips
A lightning storm, which was the norm
Knocked down the power wire
She lit some wicks to practice kicks
Now her grass skirt is on fire
Jacob Gax has chronic wax
That builds up in his ears
He tries to clean them constantly
But more just reappears
Those globs of goo start to accrue
You really ought to see 'em
So what he's grown is now on loan
At the local wax museum
Copyright 2005 Marty Gordon
Weird Poetry
Is a headless doll named Al
Jackie boy loves his toy
It is his best-loved pal
The head is lost, we don't know where
It popped off on the rug
Perhaps young Jackie shouldn't squeeze
So hard when he gives hugs
Jimmy Keen lost his spleen
In a freaky accident
He ran too fast into the woods
Tripped on a log and went
The doctor put it in a jar
He keeps it on a shelf
And when he's feeling incomplete
He looks upon himself
Willy Wee is 8 foot 3
A tad bit short of 9
He's quite content to be that tall
The weather up there's fine
But Willy Wee went up to ski
The mountains on a date
He fell real bad and now he's sad
'Cuz now he's 3 foot 8
Becca Boo is such a shrew
To everyone she's mean
She scares the witches off their brooms
On every Halloween
But Huey Hoo loved Becca Boo
He loved her strong and true
It melted her heart, that angry tart
And now she cries, "Boo-Hoo."
Neddy Bock has dreadlocks
In Jamaica he's a hit
But soldiers in the army
Well, they don't give a spit
Neddy Bock met Sgt. Mock
"You look a sight," he called
Sarge took him to a barber
And now old Neddy's bald
Sammy Spud just loved the mud
In dirt he'd play and play
His mom would try to clean him up
But he stayed the color gray
One time he played real near the pond
And on him crawled a leech
It breached the crud and sucked his blood
Now Sammy bathes in bleach
Pammy Bam ate nothing but jam
On toast and bread and spoon
Strawberry, grape and marmalade
Morning, night and noon
Eating jelly, she grew a belly
And soon began to sneeze
Now Pammy Bam's on insulin
'Cuz she has diabetes
Lemmy Slug is such a bug
The people want to squish him
He dodges shoes all day long
And soon he started wishin'
"I wish I was a giant
With shoes on big, old feet
Then I could squish the people
That I might chance to meet
Bessie June went to the moon
She dwelled inside a crater
The Moonie Men who lived there
Soon began to hate her
She swept up all the moon rocks
And put them in a case
But Moonie Men, the like moon rocks
To decorate their place
Timmy Thicket is a cricket
He plays accordion
The other crickets tease him
For not playing violin
The teasing hurts poor Timmy
But he's too proud to beg
Besides, he can't play violin
Poor Timmy's got no legs
Poltice Fig danced a jig
He liked to sway and swing
He cut a rug, that graceful fig
He was a prancing thing
Someone lost their marbles
And Poltice rolled and slipped
Now he doesn't dance no more
With his light fantastic tripped
The King of Mole lives in a hole
But it's cozy, bright and clean
He moved aside the dirt and mud
And trimmed the roots between
It rained one day and half the night
His home began to flood
And so the mighty King of Mole
Is now the king of mud
Daffy Nate went on a date
With Loony Nora Lum
She laughed at all his crazy jokes
Although they were quite dumb
Now Daffy Nate and Loony Lum
Are married with 10 tots
Their dating life was lots of fun
But married life is not
Mimsy Moore sits on the floor
Arranging peas and flowers
Although the combo seems quite odd
She whiles away the hours
She wants a pea and flower shop
Her dream for quite some time
But peas and flowers just won't sell
Not even for a dime
Howie Nows loves white cows
Their color gives him cause
To paint them in an earthly hue
With brushes, pens and gauze
He is quite famous in the land
From Kalamazoo to Laos
His gallery's name, it seems quite right
Howie Now's Brown Cows
Parker Gack has the knack
For talking to the mice
He doesn't like the squirrels too much
But rodents he thinks nice
He had 100 in his home
1000 in his attic
And 23 in his TV
Now all he gets is static
Peter Fleen loves Halloween
He decorates every room
In orange and green he can be seen
Donned in his pumpkin costume
He treasures most his friend the ghost
And a black cat name of Whiz
They trick or treat in rain and sleet
No matter what day it is
Tex McRoy is a cowboy
More cow than boy they say
He's mounted horns upon his hat
And he eats alot of hay
He fell in love with Bessie
A lovely heifer chick
He's milking it for all it's worth
But it's really udderly sick
Jacques LeMoo runs a zoo
For chickens, pigs and ducks
He doesn't like the other sorts
Just those that oink and cluck
One windy day, a cow blew in
It caused alot of grief
Jacques solved the problem with his axe
And now their set for beef
Eb and Flo are twins you know
They live next to the ocean
The tides move in, the tides move out
Based on their least emotion
One day Eb was feeling cold
But Flo was getting hotter
They fought about the temperature
And now they're underwater
Nikki Nell has gone to Hell
To visit Uncle Scratch
She lights her pipe upon the rocks
She doesn't need a match
Her Uncle Scratch is not at home
He won't answer the bell
So Nikki has to turn around
And get the hell out of Hell
Toffee Sote had a goat
It ate up cans and weeds
The goat, it's name was Saffron Sue
And followed Toffee's lead
It followed her to school one day
And ate up all the books
Now when Toffee does homework
Inside the goat she looks
Hurricane Ned has a big head
It's full of heated air
Everywhere that Ned does go
The people point and stare
All eyes on Ned, he hates his head
And wishes it would shrink
Suddenly, Ned burps real loud
Small head, but what a stink
LaLa Baines sings in the rain
And dances in the puddles
The ducks all swim in rhythm
And the worms all coo and cuddle
LaLa's notes are perfect pitched
Though good, she never gloats
And after singing, gargles
With raindrops down her throat
Skully Boo has one tattoo
It covers head to toe
He's painted like a skeleton
So he looks rather dead
At Halloween, he looks real keen
No costume does he wear
He wins the costume contest every year
Now, that really isn't fair
Copyright 2005 Marty Gordon
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Blast from the Past
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Booklist
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Car Show
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Seattle Stuff
Monday, September 05, 2005
Alina and the Bear
"A tree fell on my car last Tuesday thanks to Katrina. It was one of the smaller trees so it just dented the roof, hood and the passenger side door. Jerry saw the whole thing. He just heard a crack and a whoomp and it was done. Jerry and I went hiking today at a place we go all the time and never had any problems. This time we saw a black bear with two cubs just sitting across the trail we were heading to cross. I don't think I've ever run so fast. If I didn't want to draw attention to myself I would have screamed like a little girl while I was booking it."
(I would have paid money to see her running away from that bear. Priceless.)
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Washington Wal-Mart
Edmonds
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Booklist
Tales to Astonish by Ronin Ro - An account of the early days of comics focusing on Stan Lee and Jack Kirby. Not the best book I've ever read. The tidbits of info were disjointed, the narrative would fracture from time to time. I guess the one thing I got from this book was that all was not a rosy paradise in the comic book world. One would think that folks who spend their lives entertaining us with fantastic characters and ever more fantastic stories would be happy about that. Not so. Stan Lee is painted as an egotistical, controlling schmooze-hound. Jack Kirby is shown as a stalwart, if not whiny, workhorse. Apparently, Marvel has mistreated many, many folks over the years (DC not much better) and this book tells it all.