if you feel discouraged that there's a lack of color here - please don't worry, lover. it's really bursting at the seams.

The Satanic Verses is disarming.

In the end, it is both disarmingly definite and disarmingly sweet. Honestly, I was touched (and very surprised. Salman Rushdie excels, like T.S. Eliot, at preparing one meter and then in the next line of the poem changing the rhythm unexpectedly, leaving us off-balance and open). And as always, when there is a good ending, I sort of fell in love with the book. In the case of Salman Rushdie and the Satanic Verses, I do not feel an easy love - nor do I feel any sense of complete understanding. I'm kind of like someone who develops a passion for cacti because they bloom so prettily once a year in the wet season, against all odds and expectations, Lord knows why. So I guess that makes me a semi-ignorant cacto-phile (That's a semi-ignorant person who loves cacti, not someone who loves semi-ignorant cacti). . . except with books?

Once upon a time, in Photo II, there was a girl who resolved never to go anywhere without her camera and an extra roll of film, because she thought that she could grow faster as a photographer if she always looked everywhere for a good photograph. Then, months later, in the summer, when she was wrestling with lack of inspiration, she resolved to start carrying it around again every day, even though she might look mildly retarded, because you never know when a great photograph is going to jump out and bite you in the bum.

Today I had a funny idea for some artwork (as usual, it's a convoluted intersection of things, so bear with me). Greg's church is doing some sort of little show about the intersection of worship and art. As I thought about that today, I was compiling an index of quotes from The Bridge, one of which happened to be: "God's self-disclosure is rich and polychromatic." Okay, I thought. So maybe artwork can be an act of worship in bringing us to recognize the rich and polychromatic nature of his self-disclosure. But how would you represent that visually? Being me and being part of some crazy wired-in generation (they're always changing the names for it - I can never keep track. It's never something as easy as "Generation X" or "the Baby Boomers"), I turned to Google for the answers, and ran an image search using the word "polychromatic." What came up? Polychromatic slides of cancer cells. Oh, the irony. The nature of God's self-disclosure = (according to Google) polychromatic slides of cancer cells.

Needless to say I kind of discarded that idea. But also it made me laugh (whatever that says about my personality).

Alright my loves. This euphonious colloquy is illimitably coming to an end. Hopefully my incorrigible, sempiternal posting is not merely gasconade nor indicative of turpitude and hopefully it does not indurate your obdurate hearts. (See how my vocabulary has grown from working in the Publications Office?) Maybe you even like some of my posts a little, smidgen bit.

Quotes of the day:
"Through the stranger, we receive 'honesty and insight into our plastic worlds.'"

"Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved."

Countdown: 9

Countdown to living in my apartment: 11