I think the band is the Stylites; I'm surprised there isn't a drummer in there, but who can resist a band consisting in a trumpet, saxophone, and bass? Singing, I realize, is somewhat more problematic; but as you can see, I play saxophone as well.
A god who is all-knowing and all-powerful and who does not even make sure that his creatures understand his intention--could that be a god of goodness? Who allows countless doubts and dubieties to persist, for thousands of years, as though the salvation of mankind were unaffected by them, and who on the other hand holds out the prospect of frightful consequences if any mistake is made as to the nature of the truth? Would he not be a cruel god if he possessed the truth and could behold mankind miserably tormenting itself over the truth? -Friedrich Nietzsche, Daybreak (trans R.J. Hollingdale)
Am I ready for a new semester at seminary or what?
On the bright side, someone seems to have forgotten to log off of pandora: so when I went to listen to my funky jazz, I was instead treated with some soothing acoustic music. I give David Grisman and Tony Rice a thumbs up!
Back in Virginia, I painted with a fellow named James; I didn’t like painting houses, but I liked working with him. I think he enjoyed working with me, too, but I know that he often found me amusing.
I think he sees me as an idiot savant, capable of talking at length and depth with authority about various issues in philosophy, politics, psychology, but then plant my foot into a bucket of paint, or some such foolishness.
One time we were painting a house out on Maiden Lane, owned by this old woman who drank heavily; it wasn’t the most fun job we’d ever worked on. On the final day, we left by the back door rather than the front, and walked through the gate at the side of the house towards his truck after making a last sweep of the inside; we weren’t carrying any equipment, and we weren’t in any hurry. I was wearing a baseball cap with the brim pulled fairly low; and I suppose I should mention that James is about a head taller than me, so he saw the two-inch pipes coming out of the side of the house not quite six feet above the ground. I didn’t: I walked right into the lowest pipe without even slowing down. My knees buckled, and I fell to the ground. “Are you okay?” he asked. It took me a minute to answer, but I guess I was. I was mad at the pipes, but it was really my own fault: there it was, plain as day, any fool could have seen it coming but I didn’t. Why do I do things like that?
It seems that today's doodles were unconsciously taken from this. My mistake: I've lost track of the time. Yesterday's doodles.
A friend and I were heading to lunch this past weekend, and he asked me what I'd like to eat. "I'd really like some good Chinese food," I replied. "Um.... well, we could go to the best Chinese restaurant in town. But it's still not good." So we went to Applebee's and drank root beer all afternoon. I guess that story is beside the point: I'm just surprised that I have so many fortunes from fortune cookies, since I never eat Chinese food in this town.
There are times when one might wish to paraphrase someone else's argument, and perhaps state the underlying sentiment a bit more strongly than the author originally had. There are two potential pitfalls with this: first, you may misrepresent the views of the author. Second, other people may take you to be stating your own views, rather than restating the author's views. All of this is to say, I worry that someone around here thinks I called him an idiot, which wasn't my intention at all. The humorous upshot of this, however, was that he basically said that he didn't think I was a Christian. Hm, maybe not.
I don't know why it's a Hebrew Scripture kinda day, it just is.
More insomnia, lots of strange dreams when I did finally sleep, and dreams within dreams, a first for me (that is, I had a dream, and then in the next dream I said to one of the characters, "Oh, I had dream about that last night"--and then more things I had just dreamed about started happening in that dream).