Nether Letter Log

One Second After, Book Review

2012-01-12T13:11:00.002-05:00

One Second After

William R. Forstchen

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

I live in Asheville, a few miles from Black Mountain. Several of my friends have attended Willam R. Forstchen's public lectures. From what I gather from hearsay, they are centered on survivalism. People I talk to either love him as a brilliant man, or despise him as a whacked-out alarmist. I spoke with a few Black Mountain residents on my honeymoon - which was well spent in The Red Rocker - and all of them, both liberal and conservative, spoke well of Forstchen - all had talked with the man personally.

I have had no interaction with the man Forstchen, other than with his mind, via this singular book. I can say that I would indeed read another of his books, because he is a local figure who writes not badly.

I am a bit conflicted however.

On the one hand, I am glad Forstchen bothered to write this book, and alert people to a possible future catastrophic scenario — EMP. Thanks man! Here is what really alarms me about the novel: Forstchen unabashedly pours himself into the main character. Fiction writing is very revealing. Forstchen has as much guts as Asheville's Thomas Wolfe had. Wolfe however, never set himself up in any of his books as the local executioner when martial law comes to town. My Fox News friends were salivating at the mouth when the professor blew the brains out of the thieving drug addict. My dislike for Fox News is equal to my disdain for all mass media, which is controlled by a total of 6 conglomerates. I prefer the internet for depolarization.

I am meaning to say that I simply was repulsed by the vision of Forstchen's fantasy. I realize that it may be a realistic fantasy, and that Montreat College may indeed have need to one day become a boot-camp with Forstchen as General. God forbid. Would I feel like this if the main character, History professor John Matherson, was not recognizable as Forstchen? — If the warrior-savior of post-apocalyptic martial law in Black Mountain was a plumber or something? Maybe.

Mayhaps that is irrelevant. Forstchen has a legitimate and probable scenario, I am convinced. He at least has the modesty to be a reluctant warrior-savior. I must get some more of his books to see if my conflict is resolved. The man seems obsessed with wars past and wars future. I simply am not.

Husbands as High Priests? Really?

2012-01-10T13:13:00.000-05:00

My name is Aaron. I was married to one of those of the female gender, named Julia, on December 17, 2011. She has a Baptist background, and I a Pentecostal background; her parents divorced, my parents still married; she a Democrat, I a Republican (luckily, neither of us are party people, both essentially classical conservatives). We both grew up in an American postmodernist culture, which is for us a nostalgic place to visit via obsolete media, now, in the time of post-American postmodernist culture.

The worlds that once were, are no more, nor are those worlds' standards, generally speaking, any longer valid. Soon the Simpsons will be as politically incorrect, as socially unacceptable, as the Flinstones now are.

One thing that amazingly remains immutable is the Word of God. Our bibles today are not at all changed from the earliest manuscripts which we have, which date to around the time the New Testament was written. What has changed — what is seemingly in perpetual change — is the interpretation of those scriptures, and what C.H. Spurgeon called "illegitimate spiritualizing"; that is, a fancifulness; a sort of mysticism; clever allegories highly theoretical, which he says Bunyan alone did well in, legitimately.

So, it came one night whilst my wife and I were laying in bed that we got into an argument on the roles of the male and the roles of the female, in relation to each other.

I argued that my new office of Husband coincided and was concurrent with the office of High Priest, and that as such, I was going to — in fact already had — set up the guidlines to our daily devotional and prayer time, which I proceeded to share with her. She immediately rebelled loudly, and things devolved into an argument from whence she exited to the couch for the night. I then started googling on "Husband as High Priest", and made the mistake of commenting on the following page:

Husband As Priest of the Home?

Too, I found this site interesting:

Is the Husband the High Priest of the Home?

My two main points are this:

No human relationship is equal, is 50/50. Opposites attract, and opposites only exist in relation to each other. One is Yin, the other Yang; one submissive, one dominant. Imagine any couple, any duo, any doublet, any pair, of any gender, of any species, and you will see this is truth, this is nature. The argument made against me in this can be found in the above link. It is as ridiculous as it is fallacious.

Christian marriage is not an equal partnership with Christ the head of the house as He is the head of the Church.

After having no satisfaction in reading the various interpretations of various scriptures pertaining to these things, I contacted Halsey, the head of Harvest Time Assembly's Men's Ministry. I received this response, which amazingly to me, does not devolve into misogyny (the women in the aforesaid link seem to think Paul was a misogynist) nor feminism, but I believe is quite reasonable and sound an interpretation. Here it is, in full:

Let me preface my comments with a disclaimer. The thoughts I’m going to share are my own. I have come to this way of thinking by my understanding of scripture and different studies that I have done. As with anything that I or anyone else says, I encourage you to pray about it and do your own research. As you have found there are a variety of opinions on this subject. As with anything we have to judge it by God’s word and our own hearts.

That being said, here are my thoughts:

I believe the question was “Is the husband the High Priest of the home in the literal or the metaphorical sense”. First, let’s look at the responsibilities of the high priest. Here’s a good description:

http://www.answers.com/topic/high-priest

From what I understand the high priest was a descendant of Aaron. He was to set himself apart for the Lord’s service. He was to be holy, without sin. Some of his duties included entering the Holy of Holies to offer sacrifice for him and others. There is no way that a husband can perform those duties for their family since Jesus is the one who is our sin sacrifice. S o, in that sense husbands cannot fulfill the role of high priest.

The tribe of Levi was called by the Lord to be set apart for the Lords service in the temple, (see Numbers 8). They were to perform duties in the temple and to assist the high priest. The high priest was responsible for overseeing all things in the temple and he was responsible for the actions of the Levites. I Peter 2:9 speaks of those in Christ, (both male and female) — they are of a royal priesthood. There is no difference in a saved woman compared to a man; one is not more saved than the other. In a sense we all assume the role as priests with Jesus being our high priest. But once a man and a woman enter into a marriage covenant, I believe that the husband does move into the role of overseer of the home. Just as the high priest was responsible for the others serving in the temple, the husband becomes responsible for the household. I know that’s a pretty bold statement, but I think the scripture backs it up.

When God created Adam He gave him specific instructions not to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, (see Gen 2:16). At that time Eve was not present and the scripture never says that God told Eve the same thing. The understanding is that the Lord expected Adam to assume that responsibility. Chapter 3 tells us of the fall. When Eve ate of the tree and gave some to Adam, the Lord came looking for them. He didn’t call for Eve, He called for Adam. Adam was the one who was responsible. Both Adam and Eve were punished for their disobedience, but in verse 17 the Lord repeats that it was Adam who he told not to eat of the tree. I believe that Adam was totally responsible for is mates actions.

The verses that you quoted in Ephesiansare probably the most quoted in regard to the marriage dynamic. You yourself left out a verse that most overlook, verse 21, which says that we should submit our selves one to another. The passages following clearly show that the husband should be the leader, as Christ is the leader of the church, but never forgetting that we should submit one to another. Confusing, huh?

These scriptures have been misused so often that many women flare up at the very mention of them. But I believe when administered properly they provide a guideline for what a Godly marriage should be. Here’s my interpretation of it:

A husband is ultimately responsible for taking care of his wife. He is to love her, provide for her and sacrifice, (in the sense of setting aside his desires, not dying on a cross) for her as Christ did for the church. In matters of a spiritual of ethical nature, the husband should operate a Christ did. I do not believe that a husband can overrule his wife in many other situations just because she should “submit”. I have heard many men say, “We are not painting that room that color because I don’t like it. I’m the husband and you need to submit to me”. That is the wrong interpretation of that scripture. But in a case where the Lord would be offended, the man can and should take the authority, regardless of the fall out. A simple example would be cheating on your taxes. If the wife wants to cheat a bit and the husband knows it’s wrong and not pleasing to God, then the man can assert his authority. In that matter a wife should submit. I believe that it would be arrogant to think that the man is the only one who would desire to handle things in a way that’s pleasing to the Lord. There are times when my wife has been the one to speak the truth and point me in the way the Lord would have me to go. That’s where the “submitting one to another” comes in. It should never be about who’s in charge but each person wanting the best for the other.

The examples are endless and there are many situations that can come up. But if a husband is striving to follow the leading of the spirit and the wife is as well, then the scriptures in Ephesians can serve as a guide and not a club to beat the other with.

The word is very clear that we should study the word, meditate on it, pray and spend time with the Lord. This is essential for our growth. The bible never gives specifics as to when or how to do this. As husbands we need to be aware, just as the Lord is that we all have free wills. I believe that when it comes to decisions that involve your wife and are not of a nature that blatantly violates God’s word, then those decisions should be made together.

Of course, there are exceptions to every situation. What works in my family may not work in yours. The key is to find the balance where all parties are growing spiritually and mentally. The biggest problem has been that men in general haven’t taken any role in the home spiritually. That is not the way God intended it to be. Should men stand up and take the role that God has for them? Absolutely!! But what that looks like in each home can vary. We are called to be the head of the household but we are called to love our wives, teach our children, to be peace makers and to follow the leading of the spirit.

I know I have strayed from the original question and have gotten a bit long winded, that’s how I am. In answer to your question, I do believe in many aspects husbands take on the role of high priest of the home; in the sense of being the overseer and the one called to be responsible. We will all stand before the Lord one day, alone, and give an account for our lives. But I also believe that we as men will have to give an account for how we lead our families. Just as the Lord called Adam in the garden, He will call our names as well.

I would be happy to continue this discussion if you’d like. Feel free to ask any other questions that you might have. I promise to respond quicker next time.

Halsey

Jonah Awakens

2011-12-14T01:53:00.000-05:00

Jonah 1:1-3

Holman Christian Standard Bible (HCSB)

Jonah 1

Jonah's Flight

¹ The word of the LORD came to Jonah son of Amittai: ² "Get up! Go to the great city of Nineveh and preach against it, because their wickedness has confronted Me." ³ However, Jonah got up to flee to Tarshish from the LORD 's presence. He went down to Joppa and found a ship going to Tarshish. He paid the fare and went down into it to go with them to Tarshish, from the LORD's presence.

"Get up!", said the Lord to Jonah. Jonah is found not on his feet. I imagine he was perhaps in the middle of the night laying upon his bed when the Word of the Lord came to him. I think this more probable, given his reaction to the Lord's commission, than that he was knelt in prayer seeking the Lord. He was asleep. Jonah is a prophet who is of a kindred spirit to many of us - throughout the book he is found in deep sleep.

"Get up! Go to the great city of Nineveh and preach against it, because their wickedness has confronted Me."

Did Jonah get up? Most certainly! He immediately jumped to his feet, instantaneously purposing in his heart to rebel against Yahweh, God of the heavens who made the sea and the dry land.

At first glance, Jonah's act of rebellion seems quite irrational to us. We know from II Kings that Jonah was a famous statesman, a prophet of Yahweh who prophesies favorably for King Jeroboam

Jonah's actions in verse 3 show that he is not a servant of the Lord. Isn't it strange that Jonah is the only minor prophet that Jesus mentioned? Is it not even more strange that Jonah is the only Old Testament figure that Jesus likens unto Himself? We will examine Jonah's motives as he comes to confess them later on.

Note in Jonah 1:3 the effect of sin, of iniquity, of missing the mark. We witness Jonah's immediate descent. Jonah goes down to Joppa. He pays his own fare and goes down into the ship, away from the presence of the Lord.

⁴ Then the LORD hurled a violent wind on the sea, and such a violent storm arose on the sea that the ship threatened to break apart. ⁵ The sailors were afraid, and each cried out to his god. They threw the ship's cargo into the sea to lighten the load. Meanwhile, Jonah had gone down to the lowest part of the vessel and had stretched out and fallen into a deep sleep.

He goes down into the lowest part of the vessel and falls into a deep sleep. This is not where we wish to be found, indeed this is where we seek to not be found. Ah, but Jonah's descent is not yet completed.

⁶ The captain approached him and said, "What are you doing sound asleep? Get up! Call to your god. Maybe this god will consider us, and we won't perish."
⁷ "Come on!" the sailors said to each other. "Let's cast lots. Then we will know who is to blame for this trouble we're in." So they cast lots, and the lot singled out Jonah. ⁸ Then they said to him, "Tell us who is to blame for this trouble we're in. What is your business and where are you from? What is your country and what people are you from?"
⁹ He answered them, "I am a Hebrew. I worship Yahweh, the God of the heavens, who made the sea and the dry land."

Jonah is different from us, in that his rebellion stemmed not from selfishness, but from selflessness. However, in the larger sense, Jonah proves to be nationally selfish - a hyper-nationalist, a patriot of Israel rather than a servant of Yahweh. Jonah's human rationality could not encompass God's rationality.

To understand Jonah's actions in Jonah 1:3 let us go to Dr. John Urquhart's New Biblical Guide:

"Assyria had been laying her hand for some generations upon the nations on the Mediterranean coast, and it was the hand of a fierce and ferocious mastery. No considerations of pity were permitted to stand in the way of Assyrian policy. It could not afford to garrison its conquests, and it practiced a plan which largely dispensed with the necessity for leaving garrisons behind the Assyrian armies. There was unsparing slaughter to begin with. The kings seem to gloat in their inscriptions over the spectacle presented by the field of battle. They describe how it was covered with the corpses of the vanquished. This carnage was followed up by fiendish inflictions upon individual cities. The leading men, as at Lachish when Sennacherib had conquered that city, were led forth, seized by the executioners, and subjected to various punishments, all of them filled to the brim with horror. Some of the victims were held down while one of the torturers, who are portrayed upon the monuments gloating fiendishly over their fearful work, inserts his hand into the victim's mouth, grips his tongue, and wrenches it out by the roots. In another spot pegs are driven into the ground. To these, a victim's wrists are fixed with cords. His ankles are similarly made fast, and the man is stretched out unable to move a muscle. The executioner then applies himself to his task; and, beginning at the accustomed spot, the sharp knife makes it incision, the skin is raised inch by inch till the man is flayed alive. Then these skins are stretched out upon the city walls, or otherwise disposed of, so as to terrify the people and leave behind long-enduring impressions of Assyrian vengeance. For others, long sharp poles are prepared. The sufferer, taken like all the rest from the leading men of the city, is laid down; the sharpened end of the pole is driven in through the lower part of the chest; the pole is then raised, bearing the writhing victim aloft; it is planted in a hole dug for it, and the man is left to die. No man in Israel was ignorant of these things. Jonah may have witnessed them. Without doubt, too, Jonah knew that Assyria, this spoiler of nations, was the appointed executioner of God's vengeance upon the 10 tribes."

So here we have it: Nineveh is the Assyrian capital, and it is here that Yahweh has commissioned Jonah to preach. It is very easy to draw a parallel between the Assyrians' militaristic methods and those of Star Trek's "Borg". Once the Assyrians had conquered a city, the remaining population which had survived the initial slaughter were deported to various nations. The Assyrians would then import new people into the city, ensuring the erasure of those ethnic groups which had resisted assimilation into the empire. The empire had already gradually absorbed and destroyed the northern kingdom of Israel. Jonah knew that not only Israel was in great peril, but even the Hebrew race - he knew that Israel's resistance, would prove futile.

Jonah in verse 3 has decided to go up against God - that in his rebellion, Nineveh might be destroyed by God and Israel spared. Jonah's reasoning is sound isn't it? The sound reasoning of a pseudo-patriot, a hyper-nationalist. National prejudices are not a thing of God, and within the book of Jonah, God so proved this fact. All are afforded the opportunity to become His chosen, having His favor upon their lives. There should be no man that you disregard as irrelevant, as impossible, as bound for destruction. There should be no man that you do not have love for, have compassion for, have a heart for. God would that all men be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth. Do you know what His plan is that the truth may reach all men? You and I with the Spirit of God indwelling us. Are there those that you consider as Jonah considered the Ninevites?

I have become all things to all people, so that I may by all means save some. Now I do all this because of the gospel, that I may become a partner in its benefits.

The Daily Sentence

2011-12-05T00:02:00.001-05:00

A fig tree in every front yard: some cursed with barrenness, some bearing fruit, some from which filculnean works are produced—all of them need to be dug about and dunged. -Aaron DeWeese

Socrates, Eric Metaxas, The 700 Club - December 2, 2011

2011-12-02T14:06:00.000-05:00

Skip ahead in the video (link below) to 49:03 for Eric Metaxas.

The 700 Club - December 2, 2011

The Daily Sentence, Stream of Consciousness

2011-11-21T03:14:00.001-05:00

Words disappear, the herringbone closet—change exceeds boundaries flying with wheels under—the nethermost regions becoming uncomfortable—concise in contentment, complete in clockwork, autonomously clicking in the blink of an eye after seconds ticking about its dependent dependability: ticking, tock, ticking—each alarmist propaganda or prophetic omen against the final hour—the hour before, and the hour before that hour, and the hour before that hour, and the hour before that hour, ad nearly infinitum, forgotten.

Baptism of the Holy Spirit

2011-11-19T12:34:00.001-05:00

This is a follow-up to my previous post, "How I Received A Gift, Free Of Charge".

The following audio tracks comprise 20 minutes of the estimated 3-4 hour stream of glossolalia, which originated from my person in the twilight hours of Tuesday morning, November, 15, 2011 — manifesting first whilst in a hypnagogic state, carried straight through into full wakefulness.

The tracks were originally longer - Audioboo has knocked them down to 5 minutes each.

Baptism of the Holy Spirit (mp3)Baptism of the Holy Spirit (B) (mp3)Baptism of the Holy Spirit (C) (mp3)Baptism of the Holy Spirit (D) (mp3)

Jonas' Sign

2011-11-17T21:49:00.001-05:00

From above the dark watery depths
Descended the Ancient Spirit.

The billows and waves,
They pass over.

The Ancient Spirit endures, breathes.

How I Received A Gift, Free of Charge

2011-11-15T14:00:00.001-05:00

And, being assembled together with them, commanded them that they should not depart from Jerusalem, but wait for the promise of the Father, which, saith he, ye have heard of me. For John truly baptized with water; but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many days hence. Acts 1:4-5

Here I wish to not delve into the theology of glossolalia — speaking in tongues. I wish to simply relate my experience.

My first encounter with speaking in tongues came to me several years ago. I was then an alcoholic. I drank spirits to receive power which I did not naturally own. There is, in alcohol, very much power, though it is transient, fleeting. That power comes at a terrible cost. It is a destructive power which will ultimately lead to powerlessness.

Many times, when I was in my cups — that is to say, when the deeps had engulfed me — I mean when I was at a most drunken state, tongues would come upon me. I would describe these as dark tongues, most evil sounding — slurring, very much akin to Old High German (the earliest form of the German language, spoken from 500 to 1050). I now, looking back, find it interesting the correlation between this manifestation of language and my later interest in Elder Futhark Runes.

When I was speaking these dark tongues, the people around me would scatter very quickly, which, really, is only to be expected, given it's pretty weird behavior. Once, at work, after a fifth of rye whiskey, I uttered in dark tongues, spoken enthusiastically, to two women working at a kiosk. They became very frightened and called security on me. My boss made an excuse for me, saying Halloween was close. Halloween was several months away. I had no explanation for myself — I simply had given utterance to that which had arisen within myself.

Let us now come to present times. I, by the severe mercies of God, have stopped drinking. My faith has been renewed. To touch upon a bit of theology, I did not do these things — I am incapable of placing faith within myself, or expanding my faith. This was the work of the Holy Spirit, according to the Word of God. Neither could I stop drinking — it came to be simply that I could not drink.

All of my life I have been around people who are Spirit-filled, who would daily utter things in tongues. To be honest, because I was so conditioned to this, I didn't think a lot about it. Because I had not had a need or a hunger for God, I had not a hunger for the gifts of God.

Since I have returned to my faith, or perhaps, since my faith has returned to me — I have turned once again to look upon His Holy Temple, to quote Jonah quoting Psalms from the belly of the fish — and indeed have I been in a fish belly. Anyway, since this turning, I've read many Assembly of God doctrinal books (Myer Pearlman, William W. Menzies — who died this past August, at the very time I was reading his words, George O. Wood — General Superintendent of the Assemblies of God). I have been dumbfounded at my own ignorance pertaining to my own faith. I now, in the full knowledge of what Pentecostalism is, consider myself Pentecostal, if I must be more precise in defining myself than saying that I am a disciple of Christ.

I have also of late read some Calvinist materials, such as John MacArthur, who literally demonizes Charismatics. I'll save responding for a future post. I simply wish to relate that there was an intellectual battle going on, pertaining to the authenticity of behaviors manifesting in churches, and being labeled as the work of the Spirit. I felt in some respects, that I would have to lose my ever-loving mind, whilst listening to music, to receive the Baptism of the Spirit. I can refute John MacArthur, based now upon my own experience, which was not emotionality, nor irrationality.

Wednesday, November 14, 2011. I had not felt good all day. My sinus problem was worsening. I attended the Mens Meeting, had Halsey's excellent chili with study, had very good fellowship with Phil and Joel afterwards, and then came home. I felt drained, no energy, sick. I simply meditated some while in my bed. I thought I would begin another fast. That had seemed to help my sinus problem in the past. I thought of Jennifer, who had related her story of recently being Baptized in the Holy Spirit. For months now, I had been agonizing over Spirit Baptism: "Is it real? Is it for me? I don't think I'll ever get to that place. Some personality types just don't get Spirit-filled."

As I stood beside my bed, a mental image appeared before me of a young man. He was surrounded in a powerful, yet terrible aura, which seemed to crackle and distort with instability. I thought "Oh, God, help him out of that mess. Thank you Lord that that is not what You offer."

I read some, and because I felt so bad, decided to go to bed early. I prayed, as is my custom, and as is more regularly my custom since having read David Jeremiah's excellent book "Prayer: The Great Adventure". I prayed that the Holy Spirit would fill me. I said in my mind, "Lord, you said to ask. Ask, Seek, Knock (Providential acronym). Holy Spirit, I need your strength." These may have not been my exact words, but the meaning is the same. I prayed until unconsciousness came. The next thing I remember is feeling an evil presence in the room. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was there, off to my left, as I lay in my bed. I was in that state which is not sleeping and is not wakefulness — I've been there before, in what I call the twilight zone. I started speaking in tongues. I knew that my speech was directed at that evil presence. Directly above me was a mental image of Jesus on the throne. I knew instinctively to just meditate on Him, to not think about the words that were coming out, the words being directed to the malevolent thing on my left, but to just remain focused on Jesus. I have no idea how long I remained in this state. I continued speaking in tongues until I audibly heard someone yell "Hey! Wake up!". I woke up. My initial thought was that the voice had come from outside the window, positioned on the street, above. I thought it to have been teenagers, out late. I then thought that was strange, because tomorrow was a school day, and it was around 2 am. I thought their words were strange too: "Hey! Wake up!"

These thoughts passed through my head in just the few seconds after it was that I had been awakened. I then thought about what it was that I had been doing before I had awoke. I continued precisely in the manner I had before, whispering in tongues, not thinking about anything but the image of Y'shua on the throne. I was not emotional at all. My mind was perfectly clear and rational. It was as though my speech was as a faucet that had been turned on and left to run. It was not strange at all, because I had experienced such a phenomenon before; too, in my prayers, at rare times in the recent past, I would be shocked that I uttered a phrase or two in tongues.

It suddenly struck me that this was indeed a rather unusual circumstance. I thought, "I need proof that this has happened. I need evidence of the evidence, for later analysis." I grabbed my voice recorder and recorded some 20 minutes of my speaking in tongues. When I first pressed "record" I became somewhat mechanical — I had begun to think about what I was saying. Being conscience of this, I purposely turned my attention to Jesus once again, and off of what was coming out of my mouth. During this time chills hit me a couple of times. I had experienced them before. For those of you that watch those ridiculously unscientific ghost-shows, it's very much like the chills Zach Bagans describes as an indicator that he is in the presence of a spirit. I knew that if I were to pursue that feeling, that those body chills would intensify — what I describe as chills, was more like energy, for lack of a better word. It felt like static electricity, growing, flowing all over one's body. I did not pursue that feeling, preferring, and being amused by the fact that I could think rationally and unemotionally, whilst speaking in tongues. I was very happy and relieved about that fact. Unconsciously, I knew that if I were to pursue those chills, I would end up in a very emotional state.

I then would come to a break in my flow of thought, remember the image of Christ on the throne, pull it up, and would return to meditating upon it. I remembered the evil presence that my speech was directed at, and would consciously direct it to that foul presence, as my speech intensified. I got up to go to the bathroom at one point, all the while continuing to speak in tongues. I went to each room and directed my hand at any dark corner that evil might be hiding in. Several weeks ago, I had had a scene flash in my mind of a little tiny shadow man running across the front of the house outside of my window. It really gave me the creeps. I normally do not have mental images, visions, or whatnot. I don't wish to have them either. I am suspicious of those that do, and here I am, having them, and worse yet, relating them.

I prayed in tongues over Dad, Mom, and Julia, and over myself. That is a bit of a paradoxical statement isn't it? I had no idea what I was saying, nor was I paying much attention to it. I placed intent alongside it. I picture a flowing river, my intent being as a sail cast upon it — just an analogy.

I returned to my bed and continued nonstop in the said manner for two to three hours, before falling back to sleep. I purposely left the faucet running as long as I was conscious, because I recognized it as a gift that had come, and that would, as the fruit of the Spirit — love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control — needs exercising, this gift too would need exercising. It is truly miraculous how this gift came. I believe that the Holy Spirit knew me so intimately, as Pastor said, that He knew the only way he could get my mind off of words was to give me words whilst unconscious. I was in the Holy Spirit's way of giving me what I had ask for, so He simply waited for me to become unconscious. That song comes to my mind...

Upon awaking, I called Pastor to relate my experience. Things should be getting interesting. Over the past year one wall after another has crumbled to the earth before me. My will (I will refrain from arguing with myself as to the doctrinal accuracy of the statement "my will") is to find where God is working and take Him up on the invitation to work with Him. To quote from Blackaby and King, "You come to know God by experience as you obey Him and He accomplishes His work through you."

Praise God! If there is hope for one with such a mind as mine, certainly there is hope for you, reader. Remember the acronym: A.S.K.!

Yours in the Lord,
Aaron DeWeese

Kaywoodie 13B "500" Series

2011-11-11T23:39:00.001-05:00

I had bid on this pipe, lost, and a week or so later was given a second chance offer, which I accepted. If it is within my means, I will never pass up on a Kaywoodie 13B.

The "500" Series were Kaywoodie's low-end pipes produced from 1959 -1967. Patrons could snag them for five dollars a pop... pipe.

I feared that there must be some problem that the first buyer had had with the pipe, thus my second chance, though at nine bucks, I took my chances.

Here is what was shown in the listing:

When I received the pipe, I immediately knew why the first buyer had shipped it back to the seller. Again, the stem was offset, not lining up as it should. This is not what angers me. What angers me is that eBay sellers incessantly neglect to inform buyers of very useful pieces of information. Why do they wish to receive negative feedback? In selling pipes, there couldn't be a quicker way to achieve negative feedback than to not mention problems in condition.

My previous post pertaining to a Kaywoodie 13B dealt with how to fix this offset stem problem. It is fixed here too; however, I've found another problem. Now that the pipe has been cleaned, the threading on the stinger is not tightening up. It's lined up, and flush, but won't tighten up. There are a few dings on the stinger's threading - as if some nutter had taken pliers to it. By the way, if you, reader, ever do that, please wrap pipe-cleaners around your pliers to prevent them from eating the metal threading.

I feel that this problem may resolve itself with the smoking of the pipe - tobacco resin acting as binding agent upon the threading, thus giving me tightening ability. At this point, if one puts the pipe up to their mouth, the bowl is apt to turn upside-down. I've googled for a practical solution to this, but have come up with zip, as of yet. I refuse to use nail-polish, as it seems quite a toxic substance to put near fire, the smoke from which, one sucks into their mouth, to be absorbed into the bloodstream, to be carried to various vital organs. Yes, yes, shut up - I know tobacco smoke itself isn't exactly healthy. Let's not add to it.

Here she is, my latest 13B. after my having refurbished her:

Yes, she really is that brilliantly red! Quite a nice looking pipe for the season! I have not yet decided what tobacco it is that would suit her. Before she was cured with Everclear, she smelt very nasty - that horrible smell that cheap black cavendish leaves - burnt sugar.

This is a considerably smaller pipe. She will not be seeing anymore cavendish, nor would a latakia suit her. Hmm........

1 Agnostic & 3 Metaphysician Space Men + The Mouse Riders

2011-11-07T23:51:00.006-05:00

Ports of Call

Lurulu

by Jack Vance

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

These are the voyages of Myron Tany. "Ports of Call" was my first Jack Vance experience, and I must say that I was impressed. It's not so much the plot or Myron's adventures that I found to be impressive, but simply Vance's prose alone. His vocabulary is exquisite, as are his philosophical musings, propounded through the vehicle of his characters.

My only complaint is with the secondary novelette, "Lurulu", which is a sequel to "Ports of Call". The beginning of it was a bit frustrating. It was as a rereading of the beginning of "Ports of Call", only not as impressive as one. I actually suspect Vance started out with "Lurulu", put it aside, started over with "Ports of Call", and then stuck "Lurulu" on the end, using it as a means of resolution.

I was neither pleased with how Myron's problems with his aunt Hester Lajoie resolved. It was a bit depressing, though logical. I could not help but feel the anxiety that Myron himself felt, as did his parents. How did he deal with it? He again struck out for the stars. This brings to mind the "call of the sea" spoken of in so many classic novels of sailing the seas.

I could not help but conclude that Myron's adventuring will eventually lead to his demise. I'm sure his integrity will erode, and that he will end up murdered or imprisoned. What is the alternative for Myron? A mundane career which follows in the footsteps of his estranged father. What is it that Myron is searching for? What are his shipmates searching for?

Myron's philosophy of life remains secret. He admits that he is both fearful and confused. He is best friends with an agnostic - Schwatzendale, an aesthete with spiritual yearnings - Wingo, and a seeker - Maloof, who is obsessed with finding Lurulu by means of his ship, the Glicca. All are intellectuals, and all are cynics who pass the time with beer and vainglorious musings which are witty and entertaining, yet void of meaning.

I do believe they all need to meet women. It is obvious that all but Schwatzendale pursue the metaphysical, yet this is somewhat of a paradox since his favored company to engage in conversation with are metaphysicians. He seeks to dominate them with rationalism in the secret hope that they can provide a true challenge to his own faith - which is his faith in rationalism.

I hope they eventually come upon a convent of neo-Platonist Calvanist shepherdesses who effectively dissolve their appetites for nihilistic adventuring. Ironically, I believe it would be Schwatzendale who would find the most food for thought in such a place - the Calvanists are great and engaging apologists who would clear the air of their rambling wisps of pluralistic ideological phantasms which blindly deny absolutes. There would also be tremendous sexual tension between these groups - hermetical nuns and seasoned space men.

Is The Bible Simply A Book Written By Men?

2011-11-04T20:39:00.002-04:00

Christ: The Fulfillment of Prophecy

by D. James Kennedy

Some time ago I had the opportunity to speak to a man who had no belief whatsoever in the Scriptures as any sort of divine revelation from God. He was a writer who was articulate and well-educated. While he was well-read, he was completely ignorant of any evidences for the truthfulness of the Christian faith and the Scriptures which reveal it. He said the Bible was simply a book written by men, just like any other book. I said, "That's very interesting. I would like to read some statements to you about someone and have you tell me, assuredly, without question, about whom I am reading."

He agreed and I began to read:

"Those who hate me without cause are more numerous than the hairs of my head" (Ps 69:4).

"The kings of the earth take their stand and the rulers conspire together against the Lord and His Anointed One" (Ps 2:2).

"Even my friend in whom I trusted, one who ate my bread, has lifted up his heel against me" (Ps 41:9).

"Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered" (Zch 13:7).

"Then I said to them, 'If it seems right to you, give me my wages; but if not, keep them.' So they weighed my wages, 30 pieces of silver. 'Throw it to the potter,' the Lord said to me—this magnificent price I was valued by them. So I took the 30 pieces of silver and threw it into the house of the Lord, to the potter" (Zch 11:12-13).

"They are striking the judge of Israel on the cheek with a rod" (Mc 5:1).

"I gave My back to those who beat Me, and My cheeks to those who tore out My beard. I did not hide My face from scorn and spitting" (Is 50:6).

"They pierced my hands and my feet" (Ps 22:1).

"My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" (Ps22:1).

"Everyone who sees me mocks me; they sneer and shake their heads: 'He relies on the Lord; let Him rescue him; let the Lord deliver him, since He takes pleasure in him'" (Ps 22:7-8).

"They gave me gall for my food, and for my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink" (Ps 69:21).

"I am poured out like water, and all my bones are disjointed; my heart is like wax, melting within me" (Ps 22:14).

"Yet He Himself bore our sicknesses, and He carried out pains; but we in turn regarded Him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted" (Is 53:4).

"He was oppressed and afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth. Like a lamb led to the slaughter and like a sheep silent before her shearers, He did not open His mouth" (Is 53:7).

"The divided my garments among themselves, and they cast lots for my clothing" (Ps 22:18).

"He submitted Himself to death" (Is 53:12).

"He bore the sin of many and interceded for the rebels" (Is 53:12).

"You may not break any of its bones" (Ex 12:46).

"He protects all his bones; not one of them is broken" (Ps 34:20).

"They will look at Me whom they pierced" (Zch 12:10).

"They made His grave with the wicked, and with a rich man at His death, although He had done no violence and had not spoken deceitfully" (Is 53:9).

"For You will not abandon me to Sheol; You will not allow Your Faithful One to see the Pit" (Ps 16:10).

"You ascended to the heights, taking away captives; You received gifts from people, even from the rebellious, so that the Lord God might live there" (Ps 68:18).

"The Lord declared to my Lord: 'Sit at My right hand until I make Your enemies Your footstool'" (Ps 110:1).

I said to him, "About whom did I read?"

He replied, "Well, you obviously read of the life and ministry and suffering and death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth."

I said, "Is there any question in your mind about that?"

He answered, "No, that could refer to no one else."

I replied, "Well then, I would want you to understand that all of the Scriptures I just read to you are taken from the Old Testament, which was completed some four hundred years before Jesus was born. No critic, no atheist, no agnostic has ever once claimed that any one of those writings was written after His birth. In fact, they were translated from Hebrew into Greek in Alexandria some 150 years before He was born. If this is merely a book written by men, would you please explain to me how these words were written?"

He said, "I haven't the faintest idea." He was completely nonplussed. He had never heard those things before in his life. Indeed they cannot be explained by any purely humanistic presuppositions.

It is noteworthy that in no other religious writings in the world do we find any specific predictive prophecies like we find in the scripture. You will find no predictive prophecies whatsoever in the writings of Buddha, Confucius, Mohammed, Lao-Tse, or Hinduism. Yet in the Scripture there are well over two thousand prophecies, most of which have already been fulfilled.

They are so specific in nature that they burn all the bridges behind them. If they are not fulfilled, it leaves no room for excuse. How can these be explained? Of all the attacks that have ever been made upon the Scripture, there has never been one book written by a skeptic to disprove the prophecies of the Scripture. Though the Bible has been attacked at every other place, the one place where God rests His inspiration is that the things He foretells come infallibly to pass.

The Bible prophecies are altogether unexpected! I know of no one ever prophesying that any other human being would rise from the dead and ascend into heaven. That is exceedingly improbable. The chance of it happening by coincidence is incalculable. No, the Bible is not merely a book written by men; it is a book written by God through men, and the heart of its prophetic message is Jesus Christ.

(The Apologetics Study Bible, Holman CSB, pg xxviii)

Logic Puzzle: BULBS

2011-11-03T19:01:00.000-04:00

In the musky old basement of a decrepit manse of the south, there are three light switches. Each one of these switches corresponds to one of three light bulbs in the attic. There are no windows in the attic, nor any way to see the bulbs in the attic but from within the attic. You may turn the light switches on or off, leaving them in any position you wish. You may only make a single trip up the stairs to the attic from the basement. How do you deduce which light switch corresponds to which light bulb?

Answer

Answer to Logic Puzzle: BULBS

2011-11-03T18:30:00.004-04:00

Turn the first of the three switches on and stand in the basement long enough for the corresponding bulb in the attic to get hot. Next, turn that same switch off. Turn the next switch on and leave it on. Leave the third switch off. Make the trip to the attic. The bulb which is darkened, yet warm to the touch corresponds with the first switch. The bulb that is burning corresponds to the second switch. The bulb which is darkened and cold to the touch corresponds to the third switch.

P.S.

You are screwed if the bulb which corresponded to the first switch was burned out, as you are screwed if the bulb corresponding to the second switch was burned out.

Master Cleanse Journal Day 10

2011-10-30T01:38:00.001-04:00

Master Cleanse

Aaron's Day10

I made it 17 hours into the tenth day (I'm sure this counts as a full Jewish day). I had run out of maple syrup and only had one lemon left. The spicy lemonade really extinguishes hunger. Without it, I got pretty hungry.

I ask Julia to roll some sushi that we could eat with my kimchee. I thought that would be a nice introductory meal for my shriveled intestines. I didn't think about the rice swelling - then. Little did I know Julia had already been to Cookout with her sisters and mom, for her mom's birthday, where they all ate hamburgers... After my lone dinner, which was yummy - in large part to the sourness of the kimchee, the imitation crab meat in the sushi, and a nice dowsing of low-sodium shoyu sauce infused with a righteous amount of wasabi - Julia and I went to Walmart for Halloween candy - to hand out, you see. Of course I ended up eating mini Snickers, Kit Kat bars, Air Heads, and a few other things. My stomach has felt like it's going to pop ever since. It still feels like everything is right up top, just below my rib cage, just sitting there, expanding. Other than that sensation, I feel pretty good. I had two cups of Lapsang Souchong tea - which is a bit like Latakia flavored tea - and I can really feel the caffeine in it. I cleaned my room, and did several other little projects. I shall stay away from coffee.

I've decided my next fast may be in a month or two. It will be David Wolfe's juice fast - juicing apples, celery, carrots, ginger, wheat grass and perhaps some kale. I plan to grow kale in the garden next season and try out a kale chips snack recipe.

Tomorrow is church. There will be no evening service, being the last Sunday of the month. I wish to clean the living room - my office space, and then work on my Jonah exposition which will be published on Youtube. In the morning I probably won't have breakfast, but will drink a couple of cups of Twinings China Oolong tea to try to move this lump on down. Maybe a laxative tea before that? Perhaps...

Master Cleanse Journal Day 9

2011-10-29T02:49:00.000-04:00

Master Cleanse

Aaron's Day 9

The second to last day of my fast. I really must remember to weigh myself tomorrow morning. I got a bit hungry today. Julia's work had a Halloween party - candy, cupcakes, chips, and other poisonous goods. I seemed to smell cupcakes everywhere, even at home. I drank more spicy lemonade and put them out of my mind.

As most people who have fasted know, really, the most intense thing about them is all the bathroom trips, and the near impossibility of not soiling your britches. I wonder at the historical Bible figures - how they met with this constant demand of the flesh. It seems to me food is good for one thing - an internal plug that keeps liquid from flowing straight through.

"Well, did you get anything from God out of it?" Ah, but this was not my intent, when put like that. I sought relief from my sinuses. I have indeed found it. Too, I came to an epiphany on our relationship to God. We have this idea He's far away, a watcher over mankind through the eons. It is mind-bending to think of all of humanity that has ever been and ever will be and to understand that God offers a deeply personal relationship with each individual. I find myself thinking of my life gloomily, and God as an ideal that I've not quite attained. A still small voice spoke to me, while I was mopping the floor last Wednesday, the sixth day of my fast.

"You are looking at your life from the wrong perspective. God is right here, in the present, inviting you into His care. Your life is now, at this moment. You've always projected your being into some vague undefined future while you sleep-walk through the present, believing it to be mundane, dead, without prospect. Your bread is offered daily, yet rarely do you eat."

Epiphanies are strange things. I've tried to put to words what it was that struck me. I know that somehow I must temper this Word and apply it to my discourse on the little book of Jonah, of which I am obsessed with. Too, I have come away with a new understanding that fasting isn't temporary, or done by the stomach alone. It is a lifestyle.

Master Cleanse Journal Day 8

2011-10-28T02:04:00.001-04:00

Master Cleanse

Aaron's Day 8

The usual routine this Thursday, of morning laxative tea and spicy lemonade for lunch. Stomach was a bit upset this evening. I will cut down on the amount of cayenne pepper I add to the lemonade.

Overall I feel clear-minded and energetic. I actually cleaned the gutters and blew the leaves out of the yard today, as well as went shopping. Rather a feeling of peace too. Normally I'm very grumpy. This may be due to the fact my previous daily routine consisted of gulping large quantities of coffee quarts at a time. I've noticed that like alcohol, after a certain amount of coffee, I simply become irritable, if not mean. Then the crash leaves me nervous and on edge. I eat large amounts of food to come back down to a plateau. Coffee is a vicious cycle... "Whoever says it is not a drug is foolish. Food is a drug, as I can use it as a depressant. Everything is drugs - affecting.

When I come off of the fast I plan to make coffee an occasional treat rather than an everyday obsession. My sinuses feel much better than they have in a long time. This is one reason I had thought of going past ten days. I'm not sure I will though. It may be that in the future I will plan periodic juice fasts of ten days. I wonder if one a month would be feasible. Perhaps one every other month. Saint Augustine would approve. His "City of God" is on my reading list - have it ready beside me, once I get through with David Jeremiah's "What in the World is Going On" and Jack Vance's "Ports of Call / Lurulu". Too, I'm going back to reading one book at a time. Reading multiple books extends the energies - I rather focus them intently for shorter periods of time.

Also I tried out Twining's Lemon and Chinese Ginger herbal tea today. Very tasty!

Master Cleanse Journal Day 7

2011-10-27T02:01:00.001-04:00

Master Cleanse

Aaron's Day 7

I am contemplating the extension of my juice fast from ten days onward. Seven was simple, ten will be a cinch. David Wolfe's words haunt me: "Go as long as you can". I've hardly noticed I've started. I did weigh in this morning: 191.2 pounds. A few weeks ago I was around 210 pounds. I will require more lemons... By the way, I am fascinated that today I had a bit of solid excreta, after 7 days of no solid food. Mysterious!

Why am I fasting?

Within the Torah and the New Testament fasting is a discipline practiced before an important decision. Also it is very much connected with prayer. Isaiah tells us that fasting encourages humility, breaks the chains of injustice, unties the chords of the yoke, frees the oppressed, feeds the hungry, provides for the poor and clothes the naked. All that you ask? The church fathers expound:

The Shepherd of Hermas, Didache, Tertullian, Saint Basil the Great, Saint John of Chrysostom, and Jerome all recognize fasting as an integral part of connecting with God. It is a turning to God and a turning away from evil. In other words, not only the stomach fasts - all the flesh fasts. Too, these church fathers put emphasis on helping others in need in your time of fasting. The Shepherd of Hermas suggests taking the food you intended to eat on the day you come off of your fast and giving it to the poor. Didache suggests fasting for two to three days before water baptism, and to not let your fast be the fast of the hypocrites. All warn to not be prideful in fasting. Fasting is simply a tool, an aide in drawing nigh unto God. It is more than anything a lifestyle. All Christians should in essence be ascetics.

Saint Augustine recognizes that fasting is not only spiritually beneficial but is also beneficial to the body and mind. Pope Leo the Great too recognized that fasting is not simply mortification of the flesh, but purification. Is mortification scriptural? Of course! It literally means "putting to death the flesh". Here we step into a theological chasm on who is doing what work. I will easily bridge it with the words of Saint Paul: "...but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body you will live". Let me point out that those who practice a form of mortification which inflicts harm upon the body are tragically doctrinally confused.

Losing weight and cleansing the waste from one's body are not a negative effects in that they are physical effects - they are an additional benefit. Part of being Holy is being healthy - being whole. I wonder about obese preachers... Gluttony is a forgotten word, a forgotten sin. I once heard a preacher say in regards to fasting that sacrifice is not as important as obedience. I say there!, does not obedience call for sacrifice? Of course, that preacher in the past had done much fasting of the stomach, and had felt that his time of doing so was no longer required. I speak to a more generalized asceticism, which should in the least keep one trim, as well as sanctified. Here you may ask if it is possible for an obese person to be sanctified, viz., separated, dedicated, purified, consecrated, and a servant. That's nonsense you over-analyzers. I give you Hebrews 10:10. It can be said that sin's wages are death. Heart disease, diabetes, stroke, clogged circulatory systems... Is or is not gluttony a sin, i.e., sin literally meaning "missing the mark"? Is gluttony's antonym - anorexia - a sin? Of course it is! Both are harmful, both bring demise, as can perpetuated fasting. Temperance in all things... Certainly obesity is a sign of indulgence rather than temperance. The fat are not in danger hell fire, are they? Of course not! No more than the saved tobacco smoker. No more than the saved winebibber. No more than the saved coke head. No more than the saved gay. I'm too tired to think this out any further presently. I freaking digress...

It is from the historic saintly men within the Body, labeled as extremist ascetics, that I conclude fasting and asceticism are not only an acceptable practice for the believer, but in essence, a required practice. Remember that fasting is not conclusive to the stomach; yet from the evidence of the Word, it should certainly - if one is serious in their relationship with God - include the stomach.

Master Cleanse Journal Day 6

2011-10-26T00:28:00.000-04:00

Master Cleanse

Aaron's Day 6

Again, I forgot to weigh-in. As usual, I had my laxative tea in the morning, followed by spicy lemonade, followed by ginger honey tea, more spicy lemonade, a bean broth, a beef broth, (the latter two being wee-cheats), and finally something new - Twinings African Rooibos Red Tea, naturally decaffeinated. It was interesting, the tea - no where near sweet, with a mildly potent earthy and pleasant taste.

Also, I had several bowel movements, one of which was a bit surprising, not exactly being fluid, but rather a mush-textured stool much akin to apple sauce. I'm not sure what it could have been, other than remnants of a meal, lost and wandering in the desert for a bit.

For the first time since I began this juice fast I today experienced hunger urges. Let us use the word "urge" and "desire" interchangeably. Now, if it is one thing I can recognize it is an urge. I am an ex-pot smoker and an ex-alcoholic. I immediately recognize certain thoughts and feelings as urges to return to the old nature. I at once put them to rest, lest they be incubated and manifest. Those particular urges rarely at all visit anymore.

Urges are strange seductive things, fondling not only the mind with slithering tentacles, but also the solar plexus - the gut.

The first hunger urge came when I went to the truck which is parked beside our garden, which still has a few tomato plants with a few green tomatoes which are stubbornly plodding against the fall weather, stunted as they may be. My first urge was to pick them and take them inside where I would slice them, dredge them in corn meal and fry them. Fried green tomatoes I have not had in quite some time. They would do very well with a potently sour chipotle southwest sauce, which could be sequestered from Subway. You see how the barbed tentacles of desire work tirelessly towards realization?

The second urge came when our friend Dottie brought us some groceries which I carried in. The first thing I saw within the box were cans of tuna. Let me tell you about my Tuna Kimchee Panini... You see, I start with about 5 cans of tuna to which I add mustard powder, dill, black pepper, mayo, chopped jalapeno, chopped dill pickles, a dash of mustard and a dash of Tobasco. When I'm feeling frisky, mayhaps even a dash of curry powder. I toast the Panini bread, melting pepper jack cheese abundantly upon it. Once it has a charred crust, I smooth the tuna upon it and top it with a bounty of drained kimchee. As a side, ruffles potato chips drizzled with Texas Pete (I am a hot sauce fanatic - you can find many hot sauce reviews on this blog). Also, a large crisp Vlasic pickle.

Also, Taco Bell. It's memory creeps as a looming shadow upon my mind. Did you know that within their logo is "666"? Google it!

I must put these thoughts away, for there are four more days.

Master Cleanse Journal Day 5

2011-10-25T00:20:00.000-04:00

Master Cleanse

Aaron's Day 5

Is it not strange that during a typical day we can go no more than 3-5 hours without becoming very hungry? Hunger, we are told, is a feeling - unlike appetite, which is a desire. That doesn't quite make sense to me.

I would say rather that hunger is a sensation to be experienced, as is desire a sensation to be experienced. Hunger is universal, as is desire. Desire seems to me a form of hunger, lesser in power only in that not fulfilling desire cannot lead to physical death (granted the protagonist of many a classical romance died from love unfulfilled - I think of Cervantes' Cardenio and Lucinda - though that resolved before physical death). Is love a hunger or a desire? - mayhaps it depends on what form of love it is. Certainly eros love is a desire. Poor Cardenio, along with the entire genre of idealistic romance novels, confuse storge love, agape love and eros love into one messy clump. Agape love is the universal hunger.

Desire is impulsive, inconstant, irresponsible and is transformable. Hunger is a constant, morally neutral. Gluttony is born not of hunger but of desire. Desire is an immutable human characteristic which can be positive or negative. Those with severe hunger can experience hunger pangs - a physical repercussion of not feeding. Hunger pangs occur when the stomach is hungry. Most hunger occurs within the mind.

I wonder, is it possible to feed without desire. I would say not so. To feed without desire would be monstrous; though is it not ironic that the majority of desires have been transformed into the monstrous?

I'm reminded of David Wolfe's talk on food. One can despise bananas - their shape, their color, their texture, their taste - and yet, if one ate bananas for around thirty days, one would suddenly find that they have acquired a taste for bananas, perhaps even a love for bananas.

When I arose today I did not desire my laxative tea, nor did I hunger for it. I drank it. Why? Out of discipline. What is discipline? Systematic instruction given to disciples. I follow instruction because I wish to become holy, i.e., whole, viz., happy, healthy, uninjured, sound, complete, entire. My higher desire nullified lower desires.

It is strange - I do not remember if I had a bowel movement or not. I don't think I did. I do remember that I did not weigh-in. I did drink two batches of spicy lemonade, two cups of ginger honey tea, and I have an herbal peach tea by my side. I have voided, many times. I'm curious to see if in the coming days my mind becomes clouded or if it becomes clearer.

My previous record for juice fasting is six days. Back then I remember experiencing incredible hunger. At the end of the fast I spent around a hundred dollars at the grocery buying all sorts of impulse items. This hunger was of the mind, and certainly due to my environment - I was working at Acropolis Pizza as a line cook.

I will surpass that record the day after tomorrow. My discipline has borne within me a desire - a hunger within a hunger - to reach ten days. I'm halfway there. I do not dwell on food. If it comes in front of me, I turn aside before it places hooks within my consciousness. I desire not that I hunger not.

Master Cleanse Journal Day 4

2011-10-24T00:41:00.001-04:00

Master Cleanse

Aaron's Day 4

Well, firstly, I forgot to weigh myself again this morning in the rush to dress for church. I had a brief bowel movement (this is beginning to read like Samuel Pepy's journal, is it not?) in which something small and solid was ejected in front of liquid - this was a bit surprising as I've eaten nothing solid for four solid days.

I quickly slurped down my laxative tea, followed by my spicy lemonade, and was out the door. I have a habit of chewing "Double Bubble" - around 4 to 5 pieces - immediately following praise and worship, at the commencement of the sermon. No doubt the first thing the pastor sees each Sunday and Wednesday is me stuffing my mouth with gum. I did not deter from this practice, which could be considered a bit of cheating. I might redeem myself by relating the following: Firstly, I chew "Double Bubble" because it is the only gum on the market that I have found that does not contain aspartame. Secondly, I believe the sugar within the gum is a nice source of nourishment for the lactobacilli bacteria which I've been dowsing my gut with in the form of kimchee juice.

All went well during the service besides the fact I felt a bit lethargic. After the service, back at home, I had another small liquid bowel movement. I drank a bit more spicy lemonade. Julia and I had planned to go up on the Blue Ridge Parkway to take pictures. We had just pulled out on the main road when my stomach started to stir. I felt the need to pass gas. I became alarmed and voiced an expletive when it was made known that I had "sharted". This is one of the perils of fasting. I quickly turned the car around, ran in the house, cleaned up, and had another bowel movement. Back on the road again, my stomach felt quite uneasy. I was a bit nervous at the prospect of having to possibly excrete in the woods. Each time I had had to do this before, as a sign holder for Terry Brothers Construction, I had not been successful at keeping my activity clandestine. I was unlucky enough to have it always made known to me that someone had been witness to my heinous and desperate act. I digress.

Julia and I made it up to the ranger station. The Parkway was packed with tourists from various parts of the world, come to bear witness to the glowing visions of unmasked anthocyanin, carotenoid, and xanthophyll pigment revealed in the variety of dying leaves. I was surprised to find that the mountains were already nearly barren, their coverings having mostly already fallen to the earthen floor. I decided I did not wish to use the public restroom at the ranger station.

Julia and I made many pictures as the tension in my stomach grew to an unyielding pressure. As we made our way back down the mountains headed for home I knew it was going to be a close call. There are over fifty sphincters in the human body. Thankfully, mine are all in good working order - you see, last time, I had only been deceived in allowing passage. I pulled into our drive, burst through the front door and into the bathroom.

At 5:30 that same evening we were back in church and my stomach had finally settled. I sat, happily chewing "Double Bubble" as the pastor discoursed on Spirit Baptism. We are studying George O. Wood's book "Living in the Spirit". Very astute book which goes in depth on Pentecostal doctrines, and what it was exactly that was going on in the book of Acts. Julia and I came home and reviewed our pictures over several cups of herbal tea.

I am still amazed that I have had no real hunger urges on this, the fourth day of my juice fast.

Master Cleanse Journal Day 3

2011-10-23T01:01:00.004-04:00

Master Cleanse

Aaron's Day 3

I before had used Traditional Medicinal's "Smooth Move" laxative tea. Having come upon Celestial Seasonings "Senna Sunrise", I decided to give it a go, starting the morning with a steaming beaker. Shortly thereafter, feeling the need, I took 2 daytime flu gels and an OTC allergy pill. Midday I finished my spicy lemonade from the previous night. No morning bowel movement.

We had arose early to get to the jewelers. We ended up going to two, which of the second, I did not enter. Instead I napped in the car. After coming home, I still felt sleepy and napped a bit more. I had another nap while Julia was on eBay. This is highly unusual, as I hate naps. I'm not sure whether to attribute it to the fast, or to sinus, as the latter has made me sleepy before.

I drank some kimchee juice (I always have a homemade batch in the fridge to supply my intestines with a rich fauna of lactobaccili). Later in the evening I had a bowl of beef broth. I realize this is straying a bit from the Master Cleanse rules, but I consider it fair play. I followed that up with two cups of herbal peach tea - really yummy stuff! Soon after I had two bowel movements - both watery. I feel I may have a third during the night, hopefully not whilst in bed.

I have another batch of spicy lemonade at my side, but probably won't get to it til tomorrow. It's cold enough here in the mountains of western North Carolina for mechanical refrigeration to be negated.

I'm still amazed that I have had no hunger urges! My mind feels sharp, my nose is clear, and besides for the fit of sleepiness earlier, I feel energetic. Once again I have forgotten to weigh in. I will do so tomorrow morning before I have my Senna Sunrise tea, again foregoing the salt water, as I don't want a bowel movement to hit me during church.

Master Cleanse Journal Day 2

2011-10-22T00:23:00.001-04:00

Master Cleanse

Aaron's Day 2

My second day started out horribly. I awoke with a terrible sinus headache, which is not that unusual. I weighed myself, which I had forgotten to do on the first day. I came in at 199.2 pounds. I drank my salt water solution and began to feel worse and worse. My head was aching terribly, to the point that I just had to lay back down. I also felt nauseous and my stomach was a bit upset. I drank two cups of instant ginger honey tea that Julia picked up at the Asian market, and took 2 Ibuprofen. Around half an hour and two messy bowel movements later, I began to feel better. I took two day time cold and flu gels and an over-the-counter allergy pill. Soon I was feeling much better.

Around 3 in the afternoon I made my spicy lemonade. At 4:30, I went to help Julia clean at Calvary Baptist. I was surprised that I felt pretty good. In fact, I had more energy than I normally do. I am very surprised that I experienced no hunger urges at all today. Around 7 in the evening Julia and I went to Sam's Club and picked up some more lemons and maple syrup. We then went to Walmart and I picked up some peach herbal tea and laxative tea. I plan to use the laxative tea tomorrow in place of the salt water tomorrow morning.

No bowel movements since this morning. I've only got through about 1/4 of my second spicy lemonade of the day, though I did have 3 cups of peach herbal tea.

Master Cleanse Journal Day 1

2011-10-20T22:50:00.001-04:00

Master Cleanse

Yes, I realize Stanley Burroughs was somewhat of a nutter, speaking from the consensus of the current paradigm. Back in 1941 he invented the Master Cleanse. I love its simplicity. I also like David Wolfe' s wheat grass juice fast, but because the ingredients for the master cleanse are much more economic, I have gone with it this time. My main purpose for once again going on a juice fast is to see what affect it will have upon my sinus problems, which a wide variety of antibiotics have not affected. Too, my juice fast is purposed as a spiritual discipline, which I have already perhaps compromised by not keeping secret! It is of no consequence, as I have noted in the past, people take great notice and concern when one is observed to not be eating. Eating is a pastime second to none!

"And I set my face unto the Lord God, to seek by prayer and supplications,
with fasting, and sackcloth, and ashes: And I prayed unto the Lord God,
and made my confession... " Daniel 9:34

Here are the ingredients for the Master Cleanse (pick up organic if possible).

Lemons

100% Pure Maple Syrup

Cayenne Pepper

Sea Salt

Water

Laxative Tea

Herbal Teas (decaffeinated)

Aaron's Day 1

My last meal was on Wednesday night at 6:30. I met my fiance at Subway in Biltmore before church. I had a foot long steak and cheese with pepper jack, lettuce, tomato, jalapeno and chipotle southwest sauce. With it I had nacho cheese Doritoes and a Mello Yello. I scarfed these down with reckless abandon.

Thursday morning I awoke and mixed my salt water laxative. This consists of 4 cups of water and 2 teaspoons of sea salt. It was like drinking a lukewarm broth. Not unpleasant. Approximately an hour later I had my first bowel movement - watery, as expected, as salt water cannot be digested - with solid stool not far behind. Half an hour later I felt another movement coming on, but disregarded. Somewhere I read to let the solution "stew". Not sure if that's good advice or not.

Around 1:30 in the afternoon I felt a bit hungry so I mixed up my first batch of spicy lemonade. This consisted of 32 ounces of water, 6 tablespoons of freshly squeezed lemon juice, 6 tablespoons of maple syrup, and several tablespoons of cayenne pepper powder. I'm a spice-nut who can drink hot sauce, so I found the concoction exceedingly pleasant and satisfying. I sipped on this while listing eBay items throughout the day.

At 6:30 in the evening I again felt hungry so I proceeded in making my second batch of spicy lemonade in the same manner as before. This too was very pleasant and satisfying.

It is now 10:30 at night and I've yet to have a second bowel movement. My normal regime is two a day, I believe - one in the morning, and one late at night. As I type, my stomach is rumbling a bit as an omen of something watery to come.

I feel fine. I expect tomorrow I will be fighting increasing hunger urges. I will quench them with spicy lemonade and also plan to pick up some herbal tea, which is allowed. I may also pick up laxative tea - alternating the salt water and laxative teas daily.

I plan to go 10 days, meaning that October 29, 2011 will be my final fast day. On Sunday, October 30, I plan to meet Julia again at Subway and have the steak and cheese, dressed as before.

An eBay Place on Facebook

2011-10-10T11:48:00.000-04:00

Hello all you eBay fanatics! I invite you to the facebook group eBay Bargains - a place where you sellers can share your listings and where you buyers can find great deals!

Sincerely,
Aaron DeWeese (endersolder on eBay)

The Daily Sentence

2011-10-07T00:15:00.002-04:00

Always at work around you, pursuing a perpetuating relationship, inviting you to become involved, speaking indirectly through shared knowledge, exhorting you to evolve, effecting a crisis of belief, resulting in required faith and action, adjusting, adapting to transformation, purification, stepping into co-laborship, experiencing, accomplishing. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence, Stream of Consciousness

2011-10-05T00:01:00.003-04:00

Thumbing the matrix, pages of isolated contemporaries' minds, isolated recalcitrant tellurians - intrinsically demure, public flibbertiigibbets, sleepers at the wheel awaiting eternity — when does our everlasting initiate? — the Calvinists proclaim upon admission. - Aaron DeWeese

Down in Tarshish - A Testimony

2011-09-19T16:46:00.000-04:00

Sun Latches - Dreamed by Aaron DeWeese

2011-09-19T12:59:00.001-04:00

Sun Latches

Dreamed by Aaron DeWeese

09/16/2011

It - the room - seemed to me a modernized version of the second story apartment building which my Grandfather Rev. David Thurmond and my Uncle Rev. Boyd McClaren had built on Summit Street. Inside, the view out the windows made it apparent that one was on the second floor. The room was uncluttered, containing rows of chairs - enough for a small audience to be seated. The chairs faced East. There was two entry ways - 2 doors. Both doors were on the South wall, I believe, at least being in close proximity - perhaps the one door was even situated on the West wall of the room. Before the chairs, on the East wall, was a large window, not exactly centered, sitting a bit to the right.

There were probably seven to twelve people in the room, only a few of them seated. I sat on the first or second row, situated at the center. People were unsettled around me. There was a nervous energy in the atmosphere. I knew the cause of it. Outside of the building were strange humanoid creatures. They wanted inside. They were malevolent in nature - evil. These creatures were amassing unseen, swarming, preparing a siege upon us. The people that I was sitting with began to stir.

I noticed the man seated one seat down from me. Something was strange about him. I was alarmed when the person seated to my immediate left arose, leaving no barrier inbetween me and the stranger. He seemed rather disengaged. I did not want him to notice that I had noticed his strange appearance. As to the peculiarity of him, it was certainly something that hinted at his being inhuman. Behind his long bushy sideburns were elongated ears tapering up to points. The color of his skin had a greenish hue. I thought of the English poet and painter William Blake, and of his eldritch painting "Ghost of a Flea".

I dared not examine the stranger face to face. All that I had taken in of him, I had done so from my peripheral vision. I knew that his was the very aspect of the others outside, readying themselves for a siege upon us. I knew too, that the stranger's countenance was more subdued than that of his fellows - he seemed to me a hybrid of some sort, fashioned in such a way that he could mingle without bringing attention to the fact that he was alien amongst men.

I arose to take action. Walking to the southern door I noticed a single small lock upon it, rectangular, from two to three inches in length. Upon the face of the lock was the image of the sun, Sol. Wanting to make certain that the door was fastened I turned the locking mechanism, unlocking the small bolt. This was not an unusual action for myself, as in waking life, it is a nightly ritual - double checking door locks by unlocking them and then re-locking them before I retire.

At the very instant the bolt had been withdrawn a tremendous force was felt pushing forth from behind it. It took all of my might to keep the door from bursting in. Every ounce of concentration was focused on keeping the door closed. I knew that I could not let it open, as I knew what it was that was trying to come in upon us. Not one of the other people in the room came to my assistance. I finally managed to turn the locking mechanism, which rested at eye level, and at once the force subsided. I knew that this holding power was beyond the capability of the small metallic lock. There was some magic about it - I'm sure that it had to do with the symbol of the sun upon it.

Having reassured myself that that door was secure, I turned my attention to the second door. An identical lock rested upon it. I knew that I must check this one too, for there was a chance that it was not locked, and that at any moment we might be intruded upon. I prepared myself to once again feel the violence of the outside force pressing in. Quickly I turned the locking mechanism and again, instantly I had to employ every ounce of energy within my being to keep the door from bursting forth. I was terrified at the horrible flood of power behind it. Again, nobody came to my aid. Finally, I managed to turn the lock's mechanism, and at once there was peace. I marveled at the image of the small sun upon the lock.

I turned to the east wall, to the large window. I knew that were the creatures outside to gain entrance, this is where they would do so. I saw one of the creatures flash before the window. I shuddered. We must be quick. I grabbed a bound book, opened it, and held it up against the window. I exhorted people to pick up the books, quickly open them up, and hold them open to the window. A few did. Though the books did not fully cover the window, I knew that this somehow was diverting the creatures, repelling them, forestalling their siege.

I must also say that whomever the speaker was, they never spoke, and there was no circumstantial evidence presented to me that they were even present in the room. It was my feeling that we were awaiting a teaching to begin, rather than having already had sat through a teaching. I felt no desire to speak - only to do what I knew to be necessary to our perseverance. Too, I do not know what the books were - there was no obvious markings on them, but I felt, and still feel, that they were the Holy Bible.

Prayer, The Great Adventure

2011-09-15T00:55:00.002-04:00

Prayer, The Great Adventure

David Jeremiah

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

What subject was Jesus concerned with teaching? What subject were the disciples most interested in learning? Worship leading? Preaching? No! It was prayer!

I picked this book up because David Jeremiah is my father's favorite preacher. I've not heard very many of his sermons, though I would definitely be interested to. I have collected several of Jeremiah's books, this being the first one now read.

I realized that I needed instruction on praying. I felt as though I held nothing but a checklist that I would run through nightly - the last activity before sleeping.

What an eye-opener this book was! It is a wonderful resource! One could build a sizable library from the indexes. David Jeremiah is a very succinct writer, whose prose is very enjoyable. He is a man who enthusiastically relishes the depths of his subjects. I hungrily ate and digested every sentence of every page.

Within Jeremiah gives us an outline for prayer. It is based upon the Lord's prayer. Sprinkled throughout the book are varied anecdotes of prayers answered as well as excerpts from Jeremiah's own prayer journal. The anecdotes struck me in such a way that to date I have retold them to several people.

The latter part of the book takes an in depth look at John 17. Many have been fascinated with the chapter which allows readers to "listen in on Heaven's conversation". There is so much here to glean understanding from. Jeremiah casually takes on such theological topics as Calvinism and Arminianism, drawing upon the differences within the ways each doctrine prays. He constantly quotes scriptural truths from men such as Tertullian, Augustine, Calvin, Oswald Chambers, Andrew Murray, John Piper, John MacArthur, Bill Hybels - the list goes on and on.

The last chapter calls for us to be journalists. I've certainly no problem with that. Jeremiah wishes us to write out our prayers, our thoughts, our concerns, our lives. He quotes Socrates - "the unexamined life is not worth living". He speaks of "harvesting" from journals. I'm definitely picking up Gordon MacDonald's book on journal-keeping, which Jeremiah draws heavily from; also of note Ronald Klug and Steven Covey's books on journaling. It is no wonder at all the reason it is that David Jeremiah is a superb writer.

Dream: The Storm 8/27/11

2011-08-27T18:56:00.001-04:00

I slept tremendously late, acquiring a total of 12 hours sleep. I awoke around 2:30 PM fresh from a dream. This morning, Hurricane Irene made landfall Cape Lookout, NC. I live in Asheville, NC.

In my dream I was at a large apartment building in downtown Asheville. I was at a dinner-party, or a family get-together which was being held on the apartment grounds, outside, in the sunshine. I didn't know most of the people. I felt they were uncomfortable with me. The seemed to be different - different in the way some people are that are from the more rural parts of the mountains. They seemed distrusting of me, and even of their situation.

I wandered away from the crowd and went inside the apartment building. There was a spacious living room with large windows overlooking the city. I gazed up into the sky. It was a tremendously warm bright sunshiny day. As I gazed up into the clouds, I was alarmed by the sudden appearance of a small dark cloud. The cloud immediately took humanoid shape. It was the shape of a dark angel, complete with wings. It seems it had a sword, and was standing with its arms spread. Suddenly, in an instant the dark cloud exploded - out from it poured forth a terrible storm. The entire sky was covered in a blanket of darkness in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, as I stood in the apartment before the window, all was sunshine again. I was gazing again at a beautiful day. I realized that I had had a precognitive vision. I knew for a fact that the storm would come. I ran outside to the people that I had been eating with. I believe they are my adopted family, somehow. I motioned wildly, yelling, "Everyone needs to get inside! A terrible storm of devastation is coming! I mean it!". Women argued with me, men looked strangely at me. "Everyone inside this instant! I don't care what you think, just get inside, right now!"

Back inside the apartment, I gazed again outside of the window, up at the clouds. It was still a beautiful blue, with single puffs of clouds here and there. The city below was flourishing. I looked again towards the sky for the dark cloud figure. And it came. I could see the dark angel cloud pacing back and forth, as if waiting for something. And then it happened. Out from that darkness, darkness perpetuated. An immense storm rolled over the land in an instant. I saw lighting within the rolling clouds, which threw itself with violent force upon the land. Everyone was now frightened, including myself. There was a terrible noise which covered the land, audible even over the wind, the thunder, the multitudinous crashings. It was a pulsing drone which would rise and fade, rise and fade. I remember asking someone in the apartment "What is that terrible noise?"

I logged on to facebook and the first thing I saw on my news-feed was this:

Tosha: My son slept late today. When he awoke he told me he had a dream that he went to the kitchen window. It was sun-shining outside and suddenly out of nowhere there came a great wind and a dark cloud.

I Am H.P. Lovecraft as dreamed by Aaron DeWeese

2011-08-24T13:16:00.003-04:00

In my dream I was H.P. Lovecraft. I resided in what was once a luxuriant wing of an immense apartment building. This day I had company, which was unusual of itself.

My guest was a woman, dressed completely in dark apparel. She was of a very peculiar character, not speaking a word. She walked across the room and sat down at my piano. From the angle I was standing at, I could only see her feet underneath the piano. I had heard rumors of the strange music that she played and I thought of my story "The Music of Erich Zann".

She began to play, softly at first. As her intensity of playing rose, her legs began to work the piano pedals madly. Her black dress had risen to above her knees. As I watched those knees rise and fall, I thought they looked strangely thin and bony. "My God!", I thought, "She's a man dressed as a woman!" Her playing continued to rise and crescendo.

Behold! There was not a single pair of legs working the pedals but two pairs now! I was struck with horror! Each of the four legs was madly rising and falling, rising and falling - each with a violent precision striking one of the three piano pedals. Amidst the nightmarish music my focus remained on the legs. The pair of legs on the right of the piano bench appeared thin and feminine - their posture was feminine as well. The pair on the left of the piano bench appeared thick and masculine. The playing stopped, and all four legs came to a comfortable and leisurely resting position. I rushed to look at the face of the strange quadrupedal seated at the piano. There was no man. There was no woman. A small boy dressed in early 20th century regalia - with ascot and grey newsboy shorts - sat looking up at me from the floor. There was no color to him at all - not in his face nor eyes nor his clothes. He was in black and white - monotone. He asked if there was any tuna. I said "No. Quite dismally, I'm afraid that there is only salmon". I thought of the genus felis and of my story "The Cats of Ulthar". I knew the economy was in shambles. Salmon for everyone now.

I turned the corner of the room and began to ascend a large oak staircase that rose several floors. It was very wide a staircase - so much room for myself to move about as a lone tenant. I was going to retrieve cans of salmon for the boy and I to have for lunch. I pictured in my mind, as I climbed the stairs, the docks outside of the building, and the ships in port with all of their exotic wares. I finally came to the large attic space. I walked to the far end and looked down. Amidst the rabble on the floor were glue traps for mice. I thought of my story "The Rats in the Walls". One glue trap was turned upside down, upon the floor. The other had a small mouse in it. I despaired that the creature was still alive. I placed a small wooden cabinet upon its head, applied pressure and awaited for the crunching sound of its cranium crushing in upon its pitiful rodent brain. To my dismay, it lived yet. I repeated the process several times until only a bloody spot remained where the head had been. I could see an ear. It seemed the body of the mouse still rose and fell with breath. I despaired again. Thinking of how to prepare the mouse for lunch (I must have my maid see to it), I left it there upon the attic floor and returned to the stairs. I thought how large and grand they were, and how beautiful was their oak wood as I descended them.

Dreamed by Aaron DeWeese, Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Public Speaking - Let's Do It!

2011-08-11T15:40:00.000-04:00

The Quick and Easy Way to Effective Speaking

by Dale Carnegie

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

Dale Carengie's straightforward down to earth style is refreshing and impressive. His fondness for the anecdotal is reminiscent of that great American which Carnegie so often quotes - Abraham Lincoln. Others of Carnegie's favorite go to men include Jesus and the Word, Professor William James, Franklin Delano Rossevelt, Woodrow Wilson, Winston Churchill, Norman Vincent Peale and Confucius. Most illuminating however are the examples of speech given from people of all walks of life who have taken Carnegie's courses, viz., politicians, businessmen, stay-at-home mothers and various reformed introverts.

"Effective Speaking" is exquisitely outlined, from "Acquiring the Basic Skills" all the way through to "Applying What You Have Learned". Carnegie comes across not as some self-help guru with a self-formulated system for success, but rather Carnegie seems a close friend and mentor who shares his intimate knowledge in earnest with the reader; knowledge which is a culmination of common sense and experience, which all see as practicable and of great value.

What is it exactly that I have learned? Begin in medias res - jump into the action, and do so passionately. As Carnegie does, speak from experience. Be excited about your topic. Never attempt to memorize a speech. Always prepare beforehand, amassing much more information than you could possibly use. As Aristotle said, "Think as Wise men do, but speak as common people do.

Carnegie has settled a conundrum I was facing. I had my paper written out in literary form and fashion. How to deliver it? The answer is to NOT READ IT. Become so familiar with it, that you can speak knowledgeably, hitting all points, simply from basic notes. One must be human when speaking publicly, addressing the audience as one would a single conversant.

I read this in preparation for giving my testimony to my church's youth group. That's coming up in 17 days. In that time, I will abide by the rules of this book in the construction of my testimony. I think it will go well. The most important concept Carnegie relays to the reader is to own confidence. One must have the confidence that one will become an effective speaker, and within the contents of this book, success is guaranteed. I cannot fail! If my speech doesn't go over to good, I must seek out the next opportunity and put my heart and mind into it!

ESCHEREHEYE

2011-08-05T00:15:00.000-04:00

More Annotated H.P. Lovecraft

S.T. Joshi and Peter Cannon

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

I'm neither pleased nor entirely displeased with "More Annotated H.P. Lovecraft". I feel a melancholic listlessness. There was some very insightful annotations, and some which only give the dictionary definition of such words as "cyclopean". That which was insightful, was quite so, and I only wish there were even more. Noteworthy were the notes on Pigafetta's "Regnum Congo", the Symbolists, the pre-Raphaelites, Bauldelaire, Huysmans, Arthur Machen, Algernon Blackwood, such artists as Goya, Dore, Angarola, Sime and Fuseli, Lovecraft's family, historical places and pictures, historical names, and excerpts from Lovecraft's letters.

I did notice several spelling errors--they were not archaic spellings, but actual printing errors. This, together with the several seemingly asinine and sometimes redundant annotations, gave the work a sense of being hastily constructed. I believe this would be an very nice introduction for the Lovecraftian neophyte. There is quite a lot of good information here, which has given me a long list of referenced tomes which I would love to add to my shelves, such as Lord Dunsany's "The Book of Wonder" and W. Scott-Elliot's "The Story of Atlantis" and "The Lost Lemuria", Fiske's "Myths and Myth Makers", Miss Murray's "Witch-Cult in Western Europe" and Del Rio's "Disquisitionum Magicarum Libri Sex".

I am fascinated by the fact that Lovecraft, a confessed "mechanist materialist", was totally obsessed with the supernatural. Jack Vance's character, Gartover, in "Ports of Call" said that "'skepticism' is sometimes known as 'dogmatic ignorance'.

I would have to say that my favorite Lovecraft piece within this collection is "Pickman's Model"--"But by God, Eliot, it was a photograph from life"--wheels within wheels, the profound paradoxical. I too cannot get William Blake's "The Ghost of a Flea" out of my mind's eye.

Cynocephaly and GMOs in Atlantis

2011-08-04T16:10:00.000-04:00

Diogenes

Carter Kaplan

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

Aroooo!

There is much within Carter Kaplan's "Diogenes" that runs so deep as to escape my intellectual grasp, though this does not at all bog down the reader, nor detract from the, at times, scatological, fun. In fact, I always greatly appreciate the scatological more than anything else. It is essential to shamelessness and mocking, which are profound characteristics for Diogenes and all those dogs who have become angered by what man has become, to the point that they purvey their message to mankind by means of embodying it, exhibiting ill-timed plopping of ejecta publicly.

As I said, there is much Carter Kaplan has laid before us. The following is what sticks out in my strange mind: Diogenes is responsible for the union of Achilles and Chrysis, yet he seems to me to be, at least in part, responsible also for the initial disunion, his seed having been planted in Chrysis' fertile mind early on in the story. Even after Achilles and Chrysis fall in love, I've no doubt that Diogenes would have been quick--that old dirty dog--to plant another seed in Chrysis' nether regions. Hmm... I wonder what her mother, Chloe, looked like? I envision powerful, though comely country thighs...

This is interesting to me: Chrysis, unquestionably a member of the intelligentsia, whom Diogenes initiates, is drawn from her natural reality, or, depending if you are a cynic or not, her unnatural reality--she was drawn into the philosophic world of Diogenes, which fit her rebelliousness, as a key to a lock. What strange and occluded door has been opened to her? In the end, Chrysis embraces the true philosopher--new beginnings. Achilles however, (we last se him mesmerized by Atlantis' prism) seems stuck in immaturity, which may also be the case with Diogenes, though Diogenes' is much more paradoxical and interesting--his immaturity, or perhaps superannuated maturity, not centering around the aesthetic. I suddenly wonder who is more like Diogenes - Achilles or Chrysis. Is the utter rejection of materialism as silly as materialism? Achilles interests lay not in philosophy nor intellectual matters, but in his own body, reflected in the bodies of other men. He states something to the tune that he might enjoy a woman, were there only something to hold onto. Should Achilles and Chrysis have somehow survived the fall of Athens in the destruction of Atlantis, he would have found something to hold onto, viz., her intellectualism, her deep wells of consciousness. As fate would have it, seeing Chrysis dressed as a boy did it for Achilles in the present, which is well, as Diogenes relies on the present for all things.

I've presently been pointed in the direction of Foucault and Derrida. An image haunts me however. I wonder, if on full moons, Diogenes, in his barrel of exotic and pungent odors, does not take on the aspect of Saint Christopher before his baptism? For goodness sakes, Alexander, let the sunlight not dim, let the lantern not extinguish.

I thoroughly enjoyed Carter Kaplan's width and breadth and height within "Diogenes", and certainly plan to read his "Tally-Ho, Cornelius!".

Delirium Tremens, Up From the Deeps

2011-07-29T17:28:00.000-04:00

In the midst of delirium tremens, a dream:

The Cyclopean Stone Stairway

As dreamt by Aaron DeWeese

I was on a great stone stairway that led up from the ocean depths. I was being held up by my arms. There were two Asian men on each side of me. They had the appearance of warriors. Further below the great cyclopean steps from whence we had ascended, there were large black wolves with large hungry luminescent green eyes.

My warrior friends were keeping the wolves at distance with spears. I aided my new-found friends by using chopsticks as throwing darts. In this manner, we fought our way to the top of the giant stone stairway. Far below us the stairway could be seen dissapearing into the ocean deep, where I was absolutely sure there were other more horrendous green-eyed monsters. It was from that horrid place below that I just had been rescued, found unconscious and half dead, by my two Asian spearmen friends.

As they held me up by the arms and walked me nearer to the top of the great stairway, one of them made a comment.

"Aghh, you stink!"

He was of course referring to me. The way in which he stated this showed his great annoyance towards me and my smell. I believe I replied, "What, you don't like my odor stain?". I looked up at the other man who had remained silent and gave him a smile and wink. He returned the smile, so we had a bit of fun at the expense of his much annoyed fellow. We came to the summit of the great stone stairway. A great expanse of land was before us. We had emerged into a bustling open air market in the midst of a primitive fishing village. From hence, my rescuers leave me, as does the dream dissolve.

The God Catchers or My Daughter Bumbling About With Coffee

2011-07-26T01:48:00.001-04:00

The God Catchers Experiencing The Manifest Presence Of God

by Tommy Tenney

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

I could not help but feel frustrated whilst reading "The God Catchers". I have not read Tenney's earlier "God Chasers", but will, when I come across it.

Tenney says frustration is good. Brokeness is good. Emptiness is good. Tenney hates religion. He hates church. Why? They get in the way of his earnest seeking from religion, from church, that which it proposes to offer — that is, God. Tenney claims he has experienced, on rare occasion, the "catching of God". It is, according to Tenney, a transient experience, which ultimately leaves one all the more empty, frustrated, and broken, which, he says is good, because this opens the way for more earnest seeking, which will lead to more transient experiences with the presence of God.

My frustration comes from two things:

1. Tenney is very good at telling us how to properly seek, the attitudes the Body of Christ should carry — we should be passionate in our quest. What frustrates me is that Tenney is terrible at relating to his readers what he found in his experience with the manifest presence of God. The buck stops with him simply relating to us that he has experienced Him, a couple of times, and that it was life-changing. I can relate to the fact that ethereal experiences are hard to relate in words, much less a personal experience with God. I think I could have done a bit better job than was shown here. I would expect some details to come forth from one who has experienced God on a personal basis. We simply do not find such details here. Instead, we are rushed along, and told that such an experience will only lead to a greater hunger for another such experience, and that we will be ruined for any lesser experiences. This is very frustrating — reading an entire book on seeking, with no clear clue as to what it is exactly that is sought. Will we see God the Father? Will we be transported into the Spirit? Will we be aware of our environment? Will we be capable of holding conversation with God? Are all experiences with God subjective and unique to the individual? If so, pray tell, what was Tenney's experience as? Why did Tenney hold back? Was he afraid at offending his readers with the Truth of his experience? Was he afraid at offending God by relating that which was intimate? Was what he experienced even possible to relate? If it was an experience, I would say that of course, it is possible, to in some way relate to others, and that there is a duty to relate such an experience. In this, Tenney failed.

2. Tenney uses his own children and himself as a father as a metaphor for the Body, and God the father. I won't say that this was not insightful, but I found it irritating to have to read about his daughter and he playing hide-and-seek, his daughter bringing him coffee, his daughter wanting smooches, him wanting to smooch on his daughter, and her, having grown older, not wanting smooches. As Parham told Seymour: "God is sick to his stomach!"

I wouldn't say that I did not enjoy "The God Catchers". I enjoyed it very much when Tenney waxed scripturally, which was rarely. I can't help but feel though, that I have come away hungry, having experienced in this book, another shallow and unsatisfying experience. Tenney may very well be pleased in this.

Miserable Epiphany

2011-05-25T00:33:00.000-04:00

Writer's Block

by Vitasta Raina

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

Vitasta Raina's "Writer's Block" was quite a pleasurable experience in prose. I wonder if by some hyper-miraculous working, Ms. Raina has been bestowed a portion of Henry Miller's acerbic virtue. I find the thought highly stimulating.

I juxtapose Raina's Chalet with every sprawling metropolis I know of. I thought back to the American civil unrest portrayed in Robert Anton Wilson's "Illuminatus Trilogy". I see the plans for Chalet manifesting within my own city, Asheville. In the warm season, we see a large migration of parasites, returning from the south, and on public access TV, we see the planners planning the removal of the parasitical herds from the streets. Infestation and extraction are a perpetuality, as is growth for the sake of growth.

Humanity's natural state is dystopic, thus, the dystopian, in my opinion, is a writer's most powerful and most natural tool. As with Raina's character Roma, the poet is often perceived as the cynic. I wouldn't call that a false perception, but I would say that I enjoy well done and justified cynicism.

David Brin has written a piece on why Orwell's "1984" didn't happen (I'll read it one day soon). Orwell said it did happen, in 1948 -- he was not a futurist, nor was his novel speculative. I too believe that Raina's "Writer's Block" is relative to yesterday, today and tomorrow. I really did not expect much from "Writer's Block" (being somewhat cynical), but I received much, and am proud to place Vitasta Raina's novella on my shelves alongside its ideological brothers and sisters. I've actually found myself quoting Raina to friends, which tells me, I truly did enjoy her work, and found much food there for thought.

I love Raina's term "Refined Indignet" -- those who "remain on the fringes of Chalet's sociology." What a fresh voice from the wilderness! I see Ms. Raina as I do the Old Testament's prophets -- those on the fringe, avoiding societal polarization, warning of the destruction to which our path leads us, not because they are doomsday preachers, but because they are witness to the very decay that is ruinous.

I was most thrilled to find within "Writer's Block" Philip K. Dick's works mentioned, along with Robert A. Heinlein (not to forget Thoreau)! I too find it an exquisite synchronicity that Bob Dylan is referenced, his 70th birthday having recently past.

The Spirit Within

2011-05-18T18:28:00.001-04:00

Living in the Spirit

George O. Wood

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

I love that Dr Wood drops from his pen an obscure word in to every chapter, which will send the reader running to the dictionary. A very well written and easily understood book on a subject that most believers, not to mention non-believers, have no understanding of.

I admit that I really have no understanding of this subject, though I found "Living in the Spirit" to be thus far the most illuminating work that I have read on the Holy Spirit. I have lain out before me doctrinal teachings, pertaining to the Holy Spirit, which I align myself with. Dr Wood went to great lengths to show why he himself holds these scriptural truths to be self evident. Do you know the difference between Baptism with the Holy Spirit, and Baptism in the Holy Spirit?

I found most interesting the mention of Dean Merrill's article, "The Five Faces of Pentecost" - Retro Pentecost, Prosperity Pentecost, Hyper Pentecost, Nominal Pentecost, and finally, Authentic Pentecost. I believe the majority of Pentecostals fall under Prosperity, followed by Hyper. Do you know under which your favorite TV evangelist falls?

Most fascinating too was Chapter Four's section on "Why God Chose Tongues". This explanation was astounding and most logical! I loved it!

What are the most important things that I took away?

1. Tongues, in scripture, are described as "enthused" speech.

2. Dr. Wood teaches that tongues are functioning with rationality - tongues are not something that spring forth from trance, or the subconscious mind.

3. There are 9 Spiritual Gifts described in I Corinthians 12

4. There are 7 Gifts mentioned in Romans 12:6-8

5. Additional Gifts are mentioned in Ephesians 4:11-13

Let me break these down:

MOTIVATIONAL GIFTS (Romans 12:6-8)
Prophecy
Service
Teaching
Encouragement
Giving
Leadership
Mercy

SPIRITUAL GIFTS (I Corinthians 12:7-11)
Wisdom
Knowledge
Faith
Gifts of Healing
Miracles
Discerning of Spirits
Tongues
Interpretation of Tongues

MINISTRY GIFTS (I Corinthians 12:27-31, Ephesians 4:11-13)
Apostle
Helps
Administration
Evangelist
Pastor

FOUR ADDITIONAL GIFTS (I Corinthians 7:7, 13:3, I Peter 4:9)
Celibacy
Voluntary Poverty
Martyrdom
Hospitality

Have you received the Baptism of the Holy Spirit? How many of us have been ask that!? What we should be asking is "Are you filled with the Holy Spirit?"

I'd like to go on to elaborate on the book, but I simply can't. I could quote more things, and give my opinion of them, but what I need is experience. Upon experiencing, I'd like to read this book again, take notes. I may very well come back here and add an update. Look forward to it.

Sharia Mars

2011-05-17T12:11:00.001-04:00

Sharia Mars

Aaron DeWeese

   It was a warm Martian summer's eve. Young Master Abdul-Baari Glyphstickler was eleven years old. Musin, his father—who was an auto car salesman—and Fadwa, his mother—a secretary for her cousin, a local shaikh—had both been summoned by the Caliph to deal with a case of a young mullah—which they were most relieved to find out was not their son, Abdul-Baari—who had allegedly stolen something from the main temple. Musin and Fadwa both silently suspected within themselves that this was a false allegation arising from the mullah refusing to gain the favor, sexually speaking, of the older pigs.

    The consequence of the mullah’s refusing the not-so-secret lusts of the older pigs would be carried out by the community that very night, within closed walls. The consequence was punishment for a crime not committed.

    Musin and Fadwa would place their votes to appease the consensus, and cast their river stones in turn, at the young mullah’s face and genitals, to then return to the guarded peace of their home. Their sleep would be troubled and many prayers would be said for their young son, Abdul-Baari. Their lives were lived in total submission to the laws of the land. They awaited justice in the next life.

    Young Master Abdul-Baari Glyphstickler's parents feared for him while he was in attendance at the madrasa, knowing most intimately the aggressiveness of the sodomites, equally as lustful as their priest counterparts on Earth.

    On this warm evening, Abdul-Baari sat alone in his parent's home, blissfully lost in a virtual Thousand and One Nights. He paused from his journeys in cyberspace to lift dehydrated eggplant to his mouth, which he followed with rose water.

    Suddenly, Abdul-Baari became startled by a terrible noise rising from the highway below Summit Street, the high street on which his house stood. The sound was of the screeching of tires.

    In eleven years of life on Mars, he had witnessed the influx of more and more people from Earth. Mars had built its first thriving industry - Jumaana, an automobile factory. The import of petroleum products was quite inexpensive. All Martian cars were very economical while severely lacking in ergonomics. Long living diesel engines accelerated their speed of acceleration in the distance. Mars’ car’s design were uniform and consistent in uniformity. They were vehicles which resembled small silver spheres, with four small fifteen inch radials underneath. Jumaanas, as they were called, were how the Martian now traveled. Long gone were the wild days of Mu’min bikes and al-bukr.

    Abdul-Baari knew the sound of screeching tires on the highway very well. Kashandenville Road was the southern most route which led directly into the hub of the city. People didn’t seem to slow down as they approached the city.

     He cringed and waited for the sound of impact to inevitably follow the screeching. There it was, finally, but it didn't sound right to him. It sounded...wrong. He ran outside into the back yard.

    Summit Street looked down upon Kashandenville Road. A few hundred yards down, the road narrowed and ran directly through the middle of Iltmo Village. Abdul-Baari could see customers running out of the Texaco gas station. He couldn’t see the scene of the accident for some trees, but it had taken place directly in front of the station. Abdul-Baari briskly walked a short ways down Summit Street, so that he might see better. His neighbor, Mr. Bishr had come out of his house and was standing with a grimace on his face as he gazed at the accident below. Somehow Mr. Bishr managed to stay on top of all happenings in the neighborhood. He seemed a living repository of public information which would rather itself remain private in most cases. It would not long remain private once it came to Mr. Bishr. Abdul-Baari approached Mr. Bishr slowly.

    “It’s pretty bad,” he said flatly.

    “What is it,” Abdul-Baari asked as he came to stand beside his neighbor.

    He saw for himself. A single Jumaana was stopped in the middle of the highway, it’s front end mangled and bloody. Black tire marks trailed quite a ways behind it. Something big was laying a ways down the road, in front of it. It’s what made the sickening sound of the impact. It was a grotesquely obese man.

    “I’m sure that fella just got killed,” Mr. Bishr said.

    Abdul-Baari jumped the guard rail and bounded down the hill behind the Texaco station. In a few moments he was standing at the side of Kashandenville Road, in front of the gas pumps, with a small group of people who stood gawking. A woman was crying hysterically. Abdul-Baari looked at the fat man in the road. He was white. He wasn’t moving. Several streams of blood were making their way down the road. They were incredibly long, seeming as red rivers. He didn’t doubt the blood would reach into Iltmo Village before long. He heard the wailing of a siren in the distance. The EMT would wash the blood away.

    The men got out of the ambulance and covered the fat man. They ask some questions of the bystanders, and then took him away. The crowd slowly dispersed, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.   The next morning Abdul-Baari would find himself seated within a small wooden desk at the madrasa. A small seed of righteous hate blossomed in his heart.

Tobacco Pipe Stinger Stem Is Offset - Solutions

2011-04-30T18:48:00.003-04:00

I love estate pipes. I love the process of refurbishing them (all but for the bleach - for God's sake, wear a white T-Shirt).

As dunhillmanuk once said, "...a bit like my pipes; they're not mine, I'm caring for 'em for someone else eventually."

My latest find on eBay was a Kaywoodie 13B, with 4-hole stinger—a beautiful author shape. Author shapes are my latest thing... You know, I've heard some interesting postulations on why they are called authors, but never the most obvious, which is to me that the bowl stays out of the line of vision of the paper you are writing on, and that the pipe sits comfortably in the mouth for long periods of time, and that the pipe's ergonomics are comfortably sophisticated and sleek, as an author should present to the world himself or herself.

Here is the seller's picture (in which the stem deceptively appears to be aligned):

Her stem was oxidated, her grain grimed, and she was shipped with aged dottle still in her bowl, which had spilled out all inside the packaging. As you can see, I cleaned her up quite nicely:

A brother of the briar related to me the following information pertaining to Kaywoodie pipes: "I understand the 3-hole stinger was introduced around 1957 or 1958 and the Standard line was introduced in 1950. If there's any stamping on the stinger it would date pre 1955, no stampings post 1955."

From this, I deduce that she is a Kaywoodie girl from 1956.

When the seller finally decided to ship my pipe out—days after my having paid for it (which I always do immediately upon having won an item), I got it a day or two later, and found that the stem was offset, not matching up with the mortise as it should. The seller did not mention this. I let him know and was given a partial refund of $10. Very nice. Now, I had to fix my pipe.

I had encountered this before, wouldn't you know it, with another vintage Kaywoodie. I ruined that pipe beyond my powers of repair (I nevertheless managed to sell it). Here is what NOT to do:

Bad Solution:

Heat the mortise up and tighten the heck out of the stem until it twists all the way around. And—the mortise cracks and terrible feelings abound. This might be a good solution in cases where the stinger was only minutely offset and needed only a slight clockwise adjustment.

Good Solution:

Step 1. Estimate the position that the stinger needs to be in for it to line up with the mortise when tightened properly.

Step 2. Get a heat gun. It's worth it. Lighters are not safe — you are likely to warp the vulcanite. I acquired a heat gun at the local craft store for under $20, and yes, I've embossed with it — on shelving brackets that I made... Here they are (you can purchase them on Etsy):

Step 3. Heat up the metal stinger for around a minute. Get it really hot. Watch the vulcanite—you don't want to warp it by applying heat to the stinger for too long.

Step 4. I used needle nose pliers with pipe cleaners wrapped around them, to protect the stinger, while gently twisting it to the proper position, so that it will line up with the mortise when screwed in. You should have time to quickly test it before the vulcanite re-hardens.

Step 5. Gently, oh so gently, let the stinger cool.

The heat gun method worked like a charm for me. Let us celebrate!

God bless you in your endeavors my friends.

Daydreaming Evangelicals & Charismatic Co-Laboring

2011-04-26T15:23:00.000-04:00

The Supernatural Power of a Transformed Mind

by Bill Johnson

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

It has been said that Bill Johnson's book picks up where Oral Roberts's thirteen-week devotional, "A DAILY GUIDE TO MIRACLES AND SUCCESSFUL LIVING THROUGH SEED-FAITH" left off. I don't know—not read that yet.

"The Supernatural Power of a Transformed Mind" declares that the Christian's life should be a life which experiences the miraculous and the supernatural in day-to-day life.

The first chapter calls upon Matthew 6:9: "Our Father in heaven, hallowed by Your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven." Johnson proclaims "What is free to operate in heaven—joy, peace, wisdom, health, wholeness, and all the other good promises we read about in the Bible—should be free to operate here, period." Johnson follows with Romans 12:2, showing us that we are to prove the will of God by miracles and supernatural living.

Johnson also emphasizes the renewing of the mind as an essential tool to bringing about what he calls Kingdom reality. He goes on to defend the mind, and logic, declaring that earlier Pentecostals threw the mind out. Repentance is the first step in renewal. You will need your mind for that.

Johnson reveals to us that "whenever Jesus taught on the Kingdom, he would heal people, not only declaring the Kingdom is at hand, but demonstrating its effects."

The book elaborates on becoming the dwelling place of God. It is noted that Jesus called himself "the gate", and Johnson proclaims that we are to be a gateway people.

I must say that Johnson's interspersing of scriptures are succinct, and interpreted in a illuminating way, which I see no error in. Not everyone agrees. In another review a person pointed to Hank Hanegraaf's "The Counterfit Revival", John MacArthur's "Charismatic Chaos", and D. R. McConnell's "A Different Gospel" and even John Piper as those men who would show the error in Johnson's theology. I don't know, I'll have to read them. I do know that we can exclude John Piper from the list, as he has said "I am one of those Baptist General Conference people who believes that "signs and wonders" and all the spiritual gifts of 1 Corinthians 12:8-10 are valid for today and should be "earnestly desired" (1 Corinthians 14:1) for the edification of the church and the spread of the gospel."

Currently, I would agree with Johnson's theology and his interpretation. At this point I don't know if the aforementioned authors, excluding Piper, are cessationists or not. I don't put much in the reviewer's claims. I do know that Hank Hanegraaf's favorite pastime is watch-dogging ministries, to criticizing them. I call his type "negative naysayers". They build their egos by destructiveness. I tried to find a particular Amazon review of Bill Johnson's book, in which the author claimed Johnson has mistranslated scriptures, but it seems to miraculously have disappeared...

I won't try to cover the information in each chapter. There were many exciting stories of the miraculous within Johnson's church. I have no reason to believe Johnson is lying. Were he, surely, his detractors would rise and crush him.

I will say that Chapter 10, titled "Dreaming with God", was the most pivotal for myself, as well as being the most revealing chapter. We are servants and friends of God, who co-labor with God. Johnson wrote that our creativity, our daydreams, our thoughts, our ideas—these are all important to God, and God wishes to use them, to use us.

Glossolalist Historicity in Modernity & Fivefold Continuationism

2011-04-18T12:48:00.000-04:00

God's Generals

by Roberts Liardon

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

I had no idea the church Body had such a colorful historicity. This book deals with that history in the period of the late 19th century to the late 20th century. I don't know why we do not reference these people and the movements they were part of more often. How the past fades, the past fades in our memories.

I am most impressed with the people who have the least flaws. The people who seemed to truly seek God's will in their life for the entire span of their lives — they ran with patience.

John Alexander Dowie was portrayed as an immensely powerful man, who was also immensely stubborn. He held Chicago in the palm of his hand, for a season. His stubbornness was they key to his success and his failure. How a man could come to believe he was Elijah, then on his death bed reveal with his last words his belief that he was Jesus, is simply beyond me. Perhaps he had had a stroke—surely he could not become so deluded naturally. Zion, Illinois is a place I would like to visit one day, simply out of curiosity.

Marie Woodworth-Etter was portrayed as the most saintly person in the book. I believe it is for this reason that she held such influence on people—especially future ministers. The trance phenomenon surrounding her ministry is fascinating. I would like to find more books—and wow, would I like to find her own rare works which Liardon mentioned he has copies of!

Evan Roberts was a strange man. He so sought to live in the Spirit that I see him as a man that was lost in a fog in this world. How bizarre was his relationship with Mrs. Jessie Penn-Lewis! Success brings them out of the woodwork. If only it were not for her, I wonder how Roberts' life would have differed. I too wonder if the dark poetry found upon his death in his notebook has ever been published.

Charles F. Parham, in my opinion, should have stayed away from Zion, Illinois. Wilbur Voliva certainly had it in for him with his sodomy accusation. So many of these men and women seemed to thrive on adversity, seeking it until it finally did them in. Persecution seems to do very many Christians in. Here are my thoughts on the matter: Had Parham's enemies had real proof of his being arrested for sodomy, they would not have posted signed confessions, but the actual police report.

William J. Seymour and Azusa Street are probably the most widely circulated nouns in charismatic circles. This was the first I had really delved into the story. I am shocked at the ultimate fate of the Azusa Street Mission. It seemingly all hinged on Seymour's interpretation of sanctification. I believe the actual consequences that stemmed from his belief, show how his doctrine was flawed. Here too is a point—padlocking is indirect criticism, with much more severe undertones than direct criticism. Seymour wasn't quite logical when it came to this.

John G. Lake was one of the most impressive figures here, in my opinion. It is very sad what took place in Africa. Out of Africa...

Smith Wigglesworth was a very impressive fellow as well. His belief that "True faith confronts, and it is ignited by initiative" motivated him to achieve amazing acts. Faith + Compassion = miracles.

Aimee Semple McPherson was very strange — Hollywood strange made even more strange by Pentecostal strangeness. A fascinating life.

Kathryn Kuhlman is contained within my mother's library. I'll have to investigate. Poor Kathryn finally rid herself of "man problems". I did not know that she had risen to such secular realms in the late 20th century. Those clips too would be interesting to dig up.

William Branham is one of the most intriguing people in the book. It is the strange lights, the angel beside him, the paranormal picture, the vibrating hand. The supernatural surrounded this guy; and yet he wanted to teach. He felt, looking around him, there was not enough substance. Tragic. I believe had he gone about being taught in a proper way, God would have given him his heart's desire - to be a teacher. Unfortunately, in this area Branham was an idiot, from the Greek "idiote" —full of his own foolish thoughts. The picture with the anomaly over Branham's head is chilling. I would like to collect more on the life and ministry of Branham.

Jack Coe was quite a guy for God. I find it very amusing that the US Army kept sticking him in psych wards. This didn't phase him though! It was also entertaining, Coe's obsession with tent-size.

My Uncle, The late Reverend Boyd McClaren traveled with A.A. Allen and W.V. Grant. He was Allen's morning speaker. He eventually left Allen due to his drinking. It is my opinion that Liardon does not have very good information pertaining to Allen's drinking. He downplays it, making it seem to be mostly a conspiracy against his ministry. Allen had quite a ministry, whether he was a raging alcoholic or no.

I have not touched upon the true substance of this book. That is, God's calling, the answer, stepping out in faith, and where that leads to. By the evidence provided, we can believe that it leads to being filled with the Holy Spirit, and miracles of an amazing variety. The stories within this volume are priceless.

Luciferous Logolepsy in Rationalization of the Resurrection

2011-03-28T14:35:00.004-04:00

A Defense of Wordiness in the Word

by Aaron DeWeese

    A former acquaintance of mine (I shall hereafter refer to their person as one Ms. J. Dubedat), whom often was known to overstep the boundaries of familiarity with her acquaintances, was in the habit of calling me, at every chance, a neo-intellectual, simply due to my love of rare, obscure, archaic words. I think, had Dubedat the knowledge, she rather would have called me a pseudo-intellectual—that term being more fitted to her intended insult.

    It was very obvious to me that Dubedat's favorite acronym to use as a reply to every online conversation—her word to type for every occasion, other than when she was shoveling ad hominem attacks upon mine head—was "lol".

     Shakespeare's Polonius said that "brevity is the soul of wit". Shakespeare's Polonius would not say that had he been borne into the world of netspeak.

    I suspect that Ms. Dubedat's habitual use of slang was due to her fear of being considered—by those peers of hers yet remaining—a pseudo-intellectual. She wished to be ambiguous, to not burden herself with the yoke of assertive opinion, to not speak from her heart or her mind, to appear in her visitations upon all matters with friendly pluralistic sneering visage—in other words, she wished to be damnably annoying to everyone, reserving for herself, in secret, a perverse feeling of assured superiority.

    For Dubedat, being an intellectual must have been something that was utterly unattainable. She perhaps thought it was a title for the one percent of the population having an IQ of 170 or higher. To then see me going about using words she did not know the meaning of was akin to blasphemy. She must cut me down, bring me down to the vocabulary level of everyone else, to the level of herself! Large vocabularies are for only authenticated academic intellectuals!

     Aldous Huxley simply stated that “An intellectual is a person who has found something more interesting than sex.” Just think of our culture, and you can see where everyone's mind lay. He was right - that which is not sex-centered, is intellectual! Nearly everything sold in our society is a product which claims that we could have all the sex we could ever want if we would only purchase that material which would make us irresistible. Materialism is anti-intellectualism. Jack London’s Wolf Larsen, the antagonist of “The Sea Wolf”, could only grasp at philosophy and literature as a man grasping at the morning mists, finding no meaning in life other than pleasure and survival, which to him, was unattainable.

    Let me turn now for a moment, in defense of myself, to the discussion of sesquipedalian loquaciousness versus simplicity of writing. Is less more? According to the experiments of Daniel Oppenheimer at Princeton University "Anything that makes a text hard to read and understand, such as unnecessarily long words or complicated fonts, will lower readers' evaluations of the text and its author".

    I for one consider the wordiness of Melville, the obscurity of Joyce, the scatological encyclopedicness of Rabelais, to be exquisite. The broader the vocabulary of a writer, the more I am impressed, the more I am indebted to them. I actually dreamed of rare precious archaic words after having read Sir Thomas Browne's "Hydriotaphia, Urn Burial." I think Oppenheimer's experiment was biased, being carried out by non-readers, who, of course, make up the majority of the world today. I believe the majority of bibliophiles and print addicts will always disagree with Oppenheimer's results.

    Isaac Asimov stated that his goal in writing was to write as simply and clearly as possible. Who here will confess that his prose has not aged too well? His ideas are still brilliant. He believed that the relating of his ideas must be "dumbed down" for the public. I cannot tell you how infuriated I become at modern translations of old texts and at abridgements. Let me take us further into the argument.

    William Faulkner and Ernest Hemingway—these two writers are as diametrically opposed in style as you could possibly wish for.

     First, William Faulkner, speaking of Ernest Hemingway: "He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary."

     And Hemingway’s response: "Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?"

    Now Hemingway, was to me, lazy in his relying on his readers to furnish imagery and ambience. In Hemingway's response to Faulkner, he falsely alludes that big words contain no emotion. It's not Faulkner's fault if you are ignorant of the English language. Faulkner, unlike Hemingway, does not keep you ignorant of language, but encourages growth. Run to that dictionary and you will be illuminated!

    Here is my final and strongest argument in favor of Luciferous logolepsy (Luciferous [adj. - illuminating, literally and figuratively] Logolepsy [n. - an obsession with words], in other words: 'an illuminating obsession with words'). If we do not use words, we lose words. They do become extinct if we do not tend to their care. If we continue lowering the bar instead of raising it, eventuality will see the realization H.G. Wells’ dystopian vision of a future full of beautiful idiots cannibalized.

    Let me now return to Ms. J. Dubedat. She, when I first met her, was a Messianic Jew obsessed with persecuting Christians for not following the Bible more closely. Pork was the devil’s food, and she constantly had to guard herself against it. She started college, read Thomas Paine, and became convinced the American forefathers were Deists (this is of course modern conjecture brought about by a movement of revisionist historians). One who takes time to read the writings of the American forefather’s will be convinced of their Christianity—besides of course Jefferson—and with Franklin it's not clear either way, though I find his activity within the Hellfire Club to be quite disturbing.

    After a period of unemployment followed by the loss of her house, Ms. Dubedat became a modern Deist herself, or, as she stated, the equivalent of a theistic atheist. It was at this time that both her and her husband claim to have had experiences with UFOs - her husband encountering several craft early one Tennessee morning in a field on his way to work; a few days later, a large craft following their car on the interstate; that evening strange lights, which they felt to be sentient and somehow aware of them, sitting above the mountain peaks at night, outside of their home.   Now, I’ve no idea if they were pulling my leg or not, but I do find it very interesting at what time of their lives this phenomenon allegedly presented itself. Her husband allegedly contacted MUFON and had a meeting with a representative. If they made all of this up for my benefit, I must salute them as tremendously and ridiculously ostentatious liars.

     Ms. Dubedat one day inquired of my faith and my thoughts on a God who would allow the Holocaust to happen. I told her what I thought, and she never inquired of me again—said she would go crazy if she had to listen to me any further, or something of the like. She told me that should I become educated I would outgrow my faith—see it as something poisonous and defunct in today's world. I've no doubt that this would be the wish of academia at large—to kill off all Christian people (who are commanded by God to love everyone) who do not adhere to their humanistic religion, all in the name of ridding the world of those who are intolerant of others. I do hope that Ms. Dubedat becomes educated herself, one day. As Isaac Asimov said, "Self-education, I firmly believe, is the only kind of education there is."

    Ms. Dubedat seems to me quite bitter towards everyone. I hear that she has become published in some manner or other, which surprises me, because I rarely ever saw her write anything than "lol".

     Ms. Dubedat, in her fear of becoming a false person of wisdom, was satisfied with the wisdom she gleaned from those who claimed to be wise. She would repeat their wisdom, and think not for herself.

     It's tragic to me that Christians are not unlike Ms. Dubedat. Ask them why the modern man should believe in God, and they reply “Because he is God”. The modern man recognizes not this Truth, but the fallacy of circular logic. The Christian has failed. Christians must grow in knowledge and wisdom - they are severely lacking, totally unable to defend their faith against a world which has much wisdom and knowledge.

    Charismatic Christians use scriptures to prove to themselves that wisdom and knowledge are only for a certain people—atheist evolutionists, scientists, liberals, etcetera. Reason is evil and "an abnormal way of thinking" [-Joyce Meyer]. To these people of faith education is damnable, science a sin. Many skeptics and believers alike point to 1 Corinthians 1:19, of course for different reasons — “For it is written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent.”

    To me, there is no incompatibility between God and Science. Francis Collins, a professing Christian who heads up the Human Genome project and has debated Richard Dawkins, sees it the same way. I highly recommend his writings, as well as those of Peter Hitchens - Christopher Hitchens brother, and too of Ravi Zacharias, who takes on Stephen Hawking.

“...in this, Christianity is like all science. The discoveries in science are such as to confound the wise in their own conceits, and overthrow the opinions of the prudent, just as much as the gospel does, and thus show that both are from the same God - the God who delights to pour such a flood of truth on the mind as to overwhelm it in admiration of himself, and with the conviction of its own littleness. The profoundest theories in science, and the most subtle speculations of people of genius, in regard to the causes of things, are often overthrown by a few simple discoveries - and discoveries which are at first despised as much as the gospel is. The invention of the telescope by Galileo was to the theories of philosophers and astronomers, what the revelation of the gospel was to the systems of ancient learning, and the deductions of human wisdom. The one confounded the world as much as the other; and both were at first equally the object of opposition or contempt.” - Albert Barnes

"O Timothy, keep that which is committed to thy trust, avoiding profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science falsely so called." 1 Timothy 6:20

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction.” Proverbs 1:7

“See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ.” Colossians 2:8

To the weak became I as weak, that I might gain the weak: I am made all things to all [men], that I might by all means save some. 1 Corinthians 9:10

“But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and [be] ready always to [give] an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear:” 1 Peter 3:15

I want to tell you that we were made in the image of God — ratiocination is a gift from God. We are to defend our faith with reason. We are to share the simple truth of the gospel.

"For Christ sent me not to baptize, but to preach the gospel: not with wisdom of words, lest the cross of Christ should be made of none effect." 1st Corinthians 1:17

Think About What You Are Thinking About

2011-03-17T12:23:00.000-04:00

The Battlefield of the Mind

by Joyce Meyer

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

A drawing point for me to this book was that chess pieces were on the front cover. I find it odd that someone chose to have the white king submitted, while the black king stands victorious over him. What is this symbolic of? Before I get lost in this, I'll move on.

Joyce Meyer is either loved or hated, as are many TV evangelists - there are not many inbetweens. I guess I fall inbetween.

This book is very simply written. It is double-spaced and comes in at 278 pages. The bibliography consists of the "Random House Unabridged Dictionary", "Strong's The New Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible", "Vine's An Expository Dictionary of New Testament Words", and "Webster's II New Riverside University Dictionary". "Battle Field of the Mind" has sold over 2 million copies. People are essentially simple-minded. Isaac Asimov stated that his objective in writing, was to write as simply as possible, being as clear as possible. Well done then, Joyce, good and faithful servant.

The contents of "Battle Field of the Mind" are broken into three parts: "The Importance of the Mind", "Conditions of the Mind", and "Wilderness Mentalities".

The main message found here is to "think about what you are thinking about". Various scriptures taken from the Amplified Bible, as well as King James, are spread throughout the book, validating Meyer's teachings on the mind.

Though I was not impressed with Joyce's writing style, I appreciated her insights, and her knowledge of the Bible. Certainly, there are things here to think about, and think deeply about.

Confessing not only covers our sin, but also helps us to recognize and analyze where it is that we are habitually falling into sin. Socrates tells us "A life unexamined is not worth living." The writer of Proverbs tells us "For as he thinks in his heart, so is he." By examining our thinking, our minds, we are better able to examine our lives. As Joyce states more than once: "The mind is the battlefield."

All was well with Joyce and I until I came to chapter 10, within which she argues that reason is an abnormal way of thinking, and that reason leads to confusion. I believe she takes Matthew 16.8, James 1:22, Proverbs 3:5, and 1 Corinthians 2:1,2 completely out of context. Paul said he resolved to know nothing among us except Jesus Christ. Without reason, we could not recognize Paul as being paradoxical - he is truly one of the most logical and intellectual writers in the bible! Joyce's book here was written using reason, which, in the image of God, we were gifted with (granted she used a smaller portion of reason in her writing than say, Charles Spurgeon). So, this chapter, in my opinion, needs to be completely trashed and rewritten. Reason is not abnormal thinking. It is a wonderful tool without which we would only have religion.

Myer Pearlman states that "theology literally means 'a treatise or reasoned discourse about God'. Theology, or doctrine, may be described as a science which deals with our knowledge of God and His relations to man. We call theology a science because science is the systematic and logical arrangement of certified facts. Theology consists of facts relating to God and Divine things, presented in an orderly and logical manner.

Religion comes from a Latin word meaning 'to bind'; religion represents those activities which bind man to God in a certain relationship. Theology is knowledge about God. Thus religion is practice, while theology is knowledge. Religion and theology should go together in the balanced experience; but in practice they are sometimes separated so that one may be a theologian without being truly religious and on the other hand one may be truly religious without possessing a systematic knowledge of doctrinal truth. 'If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them," is God's message to the theologian. 'Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth' (2 Tim. 2:15), is God's message for the spiritual man."

Is that not brilliant? Bravo!, Mr. Pearlman, Bravo!

Joyce Meyer, we do not need to fear reason - it will not lead to atheism, unless applied in earnest to atheism (which should then, if the logician is honest, in the very least, lead the atheist to agnosticism).

We are to apply our Godly ratiocination to his Word. I don't know how Joyce reasoned herself into such an unreasonable reasoning of reason. I don't think it's just her. I think that the Body of Christ is terrified of logic, and sees it as cold and terrible. This is why they are called "religious folk".

After Chapter 10 of "Battle Field of the Mind" I truly began to appreciate the depth of Meyer, which at first appearance, to me, seemed shallow. This is the beauty of the book - and the same beauty can be found in the gospel. It seemed to me too, that by the end of the book, Joyce's vocabulary was expanding, and her prose growing sharper (I realize that she has written over 70 published books).

There is a lot of information covered in the book that I'd like to get into. Reading it once seems a shame, therefore, in this case, unlike the cases of many other books, a workbook would be preferable—I'll be keeping my eye out for one.

Joyce points out many historical facts of the bible, including that it was an 11-day journey the Jews had to cross over into the promised land - God kept them in the wilderness for 40 years; in turn, her "Wilderness Mentalities" section was quite insightful. I think her favorite word at the time of writing this was "exhortative" — she used it much. I too enjoyed the little tales of trials in her personal life, and the wisdom she gleaned from them. I hear she is writing fiction now - which I'd be interested in reading.

I might point out another oddity in the book, which I found highly entertaining. In Chapter 15, under "Meditate and Be Healed", Joyce states that:

"My appearance has been changed during the past 18 years. People tell me that I actually look at least 15 years younger today than I did when I first began to diligently study the Word and make it the central focus of my entire life."

It is quite common knowledge now that Joyce Meyer has gone under the knife (I thought she was hotter before, as a friend told me I was the type that would always choose the before pictures on those infomercials, and he's right)...

Sky Pilot MacDonald @ Westminster

2011-03-05T23:16:00.000-05:00

Getting to Know Jesus

George MacDonald

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

George MacDonald's influence is quite wide - C.S. Lewis, Tolkien, L'Engle, Auden, Nesbit, Chesterton - heck, even Mark Twain, allegedly, not to mention innumerous other souls. He was mentor to Lewis Carroll and well known to the literary luminaries of his day - Tennyson, Dickens, Thackeray, Trollope, Whitman, Longfellow...

This was my introduction to MacDonald - 12 of his sermons.

Sky Pilot MacDonald really excited me. He was interesting to read. Each of the twelve sermons was a small masterpiece in prose. I only wish that the preachers of today had as wide of vocabularies and as deep of intellects as MacDonald. I turn on AM radio today to hear slavering bulldogs frothing at the mouth, with vain repetitions. MacDonald wasn't a repeater of popular religious phrases, viz., "Amen, a door is opening, praise God, hallelujah, I feel the anointing" — no, MacDonald was anything but this type of soap-boxed emotional asininity.

Again, I must decry the simple pleasure of reading these sermons - the simplicity of the language complex in of itself, witty, with long well thought out sentences which leave you hungry for the next revelation. There is too a rich humor. At one point I actually laughed out loud - which I suspect is a rarity in sermon reading. I can't help but wonder if MacDonald had these sermons memorized or simply read them to his congregation.

I wouldn't want to muck MacDonald's sermons up by critiquing them, or pulling them apart piece by piece. They are each so complete, so succinct, one should digest them selfishly and relish the insights personally. Please do - and spread the Word.

Chesterton's Atheists of Paris in Intellectual Transposition

2011-02-24T13:51:00.000-05:00

The Innocence of Father Brown

by G.K. Chesterton

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

This is the second of Chesterton's works that I've read. I can only describe in as I might Father Brown - quirky genius. Here are 12 short tales of murder and mystery, loosely interwoven.

"The Blue Cross" was one of my favorites. The simple inconspicuous deep cunning of Father Brown was most blatantly exhibited for us here. It was like witnessing a feather render an anvil unto powder. Here we first meet our two most important reoccurring characters - the brilliantly creative criminal Flambeau, and the relatively short lived head of the Paris Police, Valentin. A most satisfying tale. I loved the bizarre market scenes which led us helter skelter to the conclusion.

Next, "The Secret Garden". I liked the quaint closed-house dinner party murder, though this one did spill out on the street for a bit. I was somewhat taken aback by the violent nature of the crime. Chesterton seems to enjoy a bit of light gore. We were just coming to know the atheist intellect of Paris' finest investigator - that of Valentin. Ironically, the fellow falls from his office and Chesterton tells us that "on the blind face of the suicide was more than the pride of Cato".

"The Queer Feet" was one of Chesterton's queerer tales, which is always a good thing. Chesterton seems obsessed with clubs and secret societies. This is a tale of one such fishy society, and their expensive dinner ware. The criminal Monsieur Flambeau is once again at work here. Again, Father Brown so far outwits the witty Flambeau that Flambeau surrenders and repents; whereas in the first story, he only surrendered. This marks the turning point for Flambeau, as the last story marked the dark turning point for Valentin, which is ethically paradoxical.

"The Flying Stars" is a Dickian Christmas tale, as it so proclaims itself. Chesterton must have liked Dickens, as a later story references Mr. Pickwick. Again we are shown the artistic criminal ingenuity of Flambeau; and the greater critical thinking and deductive reasoning of Father Brown. They are like mini-duels. Here Flambeau is shown by Father Brown that crime always creates victimization. Again, Flambeau repents. His sin-nature is now in its death throes; he has seen the Light, and obtained the knowledge of the error of his ways by means of Father Brown - Father Brown saw Flambeau and understood him. Flambeau could not hide from Father Brown, nor could he deceive Father Brown. He does the only logical thing - submits.

"The Invisible Man" finds Flambeau diametrically metamorphosed into, what!, yes!, a detective! It really was his most natural occupational choice as a man who had turned from an ingenious criminal to become a man respectable. The line is thin between the two fields; and as Chesterton has shown us—not only with Flambeau, but also with Valentin—the fields often transpose and become interpolated. Ironically, in one's case this is always good, in the case of the other, always damnable. And yet, here, we do not even encounter Flambeau or Father Brown until nearly the end of the story, which is not a love triangle, but a love trapezoid, having four very unequal sides. Poor Angus. I might note that to find humanoid robots in the story was a delightful surprise.

"The Honour of Israel Gow" was a nice Scottish Gothic tale of honor that I'm not sure I fully understood. It seems there was no crime, though certainly some strangeness in events. I enjoyed the scenery, the piles of snuff, the skull in the potato garden, and the digressions of Father Brown and Flambeau.

"The Wrong Shape" was about an opium addict poet, his poor wife, his live-in Indian guru and his doctor. A surprise ending, very memorable. Don't trust the doc for your health.

"The Sins of Prince Saradine" was highly entertaining. Old bloodlines, dark secrets, duels... It was a bit maddening that Flambeau did no more than fish throughout the story. I really don't see how Prince Saradine could live with himself, much less, laugh at the ending of it all; and gads! how much more of a deranged creature was the woman, the mother, the co-murderer of not only her husband to whom she was unfaithful, but the Prince's brother and her own son who will quietly hang!

"The Hammer of God" was interesting in that it dealt with piety that had to live alongside impiety. The pious Bohun brother didn't handle it too well. Just think of Father Brown - he is the epitomical high man in low places. By the grace of God he is not tainted.

"The Eye of Apollo" was a strange story of paganism and neopaganism, and greed. Blinding is the sun and blind was Miss Pauline. Interesting that here Chesterton referenced another lover of paradox, Nietzsche.

"The Sign of the Broken Sword" was a military story which shows us that what we glorify may not at all be that which is glorious.

"The Three Tools of Death" was fun, because, of course, it took place on a train, mostly!

I'll definitely be searching the bookstores for more of Chesterton and more of Father Brown! Excellent!

The Daily Sentence

2011-02-21T22:36:00.000-05:00

Mentally invisible, slow to speak, remaining in a silence which propagates itself — a terror or a music; and yet, the time comes for words carefully winnowed from the heart, chosen for their influence upon the soul, through which actions will draw.

THE EGOIST & THE ALTRUISTS & SOME STUPID GIRL

2011-02-12T01:57:00.001-05:00

Visions and Venturers

by Theodore Sturgeon

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

This was my first Theodore Sturgeon experience, and what an experience! I can't wait to get my hands on a full size novel of his, which I thought I had the other day, but it turned out it was missing the first forty-five pages... He's one of those rare golden authors whose works you just don't see around in used book stores.

This book was intact and contained eight excellent shorts.

"The Hag Seleen" I found to be a bit disturbing. Who is creepier—the evil hag or the little girl with mystical understanding and violent nature?

"The Martian and the Moron" was really enjoyable. The dad and his radio engineering, the son's misadventure, and the tying of the two together by Martian transmissions and a ditzy though well endowed receiver. Note the mother is present in the beginning of the story, though absent in the ending. I suspected death, but later learned Sturgeon's parents divorced. And, hey—at least that girl knew enough to try to feign intelligence.

"The Nail and the Oracle" was pretty neat, in a retro-tech sort of way. The lesson? Leave "I" out of the equation. Psh... Nobody's going to do that, especially in politics.

"Won't You Walk—" was really awesome. I let my mom read it and she concurred. It led somewhere completely unexpected. I thought in the beginning it was going to be a spy story. Turns out the recruiter was a pretty good 'ole capitalist feller. The machine, or the illusion of the machine is still needed.

"Talent" was the one story I didn't care too much for.

"One Foot and the Grave" was really cool. Just really cool.

"The Touch of Your Hand" blew my mind. Major synchronicity on a personal level took place while I was reading it, concerning Ed Walters of Gulf Breeze fame, and Andrew Pang of Star Trek origami fame. My mouth dropped when the dots were connected. It's like the story jumped out and grabbed me, at exactly the time it knew it should; which sort of is scary. The nonhuman telepathic race in the story are the future. Their logic exists today. I wonder what influence it has had on our world. I believe, it is only right, that I choose to be a child-like non-Marxist Osser. They will wipe all of him out, you know.

"The Moving Crag" was brilliant, until the end. I felt a bit let down then, just like Joe Fritch in a few stories back.

Now knowing a bit about Sturgeon from his writings here, and his wiki, I must say that if I ever become so inebriated that I would be delusional enough to think getting a tattoo would be a good idea, I think it would be a "Q--->".

Aaron's WRITER'S TIDBITS - Exercise #5: Changing Your Life

2011-02-09T00:56:00.005-05:00

Exercise: Choose a dramatic event from your life. Write about it in first person. Rewrite it in third person and drastically change the setting. Use the emotion of the story in a different story line. The objective? Transform emotion and fact from truth to fiction.

Example:

Fat Lonesome Death

by Aaron DeWeese

It was a warm Martian summer's eve. Young Master Abdul-Baari Glyphstickler was eleven years old. Musin, his father—a car salesman, and Fadwa, his mother—a secretary for her cousin, a local shaikh, had both been summoned by the Caliph to deal with a case of a young mullah who had allegedly stolen something from the main temple. Musin and Fadwa both silently suspected that this was a false allegation arising from the mullah refusing to gain the favor, sexually speaking, of the older pigs. The consequence of rebelling against authority would be carried out by the community that very night, within closed walls. Musin and Fadwa would place their votes to appease the consensus, and cast their stones in turn, to return to the guarded peace of their home. Their sleep would be troubled and many prayers would be said for their young son, Abdul-Baari.

   Young Master Abdul-Baari Glyphstickler's parents feared for him while he was in attendance at the madrasa, knowing most intimately the aggressiveness of the sodomites, equally as lustful as their Catholic priest counterparts on Earth.

   On this warm evening, Abdul-Baari sat alone in his parent's home blissfully lost in a virtual Thousand and One Nights. He paused from his journeys in cyberspace to lift dehydrated eggplant to his mouth, which he followed with rose water.

   Suddenly, Abdul-Baari became startled by a terrible noise rising from the highway below Summit Street, the high street on which his house stood. The sound was of screeching of tires.

   In eleven years of life on Mars, he had witnessed the influx of more and more people from Earth. Mars had built its first thriving industry - Jumaana, a car factory. The import of petroleum products was quite inexpensive. All Martian cars were economical long living diesel engines. Their design was that which resembled small silver spheres, with four small fifteen inch radials underneath. Jumaanas were now how the successful Martian traveled.

   Abdul-Baari knew the sound of screeching tires on the highway very well. Kashandenville Road was the southern route which led directly into the hub of the city. People didn’t seem to slow down as they approached the city. He cringed and waited for the following impact. There it was, finally, but it didn't sound right to him. It sounded...wrong. He ran outside into the back yard.

   Summit Street looked down upon Kashandenville Road. A few hundred yards down, the road narrowed and ran directly through the middle of Iltmo Village. Abdul-Baari could see customers running out of the Texaco gas station. He couldn’t see the scene of the accident itself for some trees, but it had taken place directly in front of the station. Abdul-Baari briskly walked a short ways down Summit Street, so that he might see better. His neighbor, Mr. Bishr had come out of his house and was standing with a grimace on his face as he gazed at the accident below. Somehow Mr. Bishr managed to stay on top of all happenings in the neighborhood. He seemed a living repository of public information which would rather itself remain private in most cases. Abdul-Baari approached Mr. Bishr slowly.

   “It’s pretty bad,” he said flatly.

   “What is it,” Abdul-Baari asked as he came to stand beside his neighbor.

   He saw for himself. A single Jumaana was stopped in the middle of the highway, its front end smashed in. Black tire marks trailed quite a ways behind it. Something big was laying a ways down the road, in front of it. It’s what made the sickening sound of the impact. It was a very fat man.

   “I’m sure that fella just got killed,” Mr. Bishr said.

   Abdul-Baari jumped the guard rail and bounded down the hill behind the Texaco station. In a few moments he was standing at the side of Kashandenville Road, in front of the gas pumps, with a small group of people who stood gawking. A woman was crying hysterically. Abdul-Baari looked at the fat man in the road. He wasn’t moving. Several streams of blood were making their way down the road. The streams were incredibly long. He didn’t doubt the blood would reach into Iltmo Village before long. He heard the wailing of a siren in the distance. They would wash the blood away.

   The men in white covered the fat man and took him away. The crowd slowly dispersed, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

Aaron's WRITER'S TIDBITS - Exercise #4: Observation & Description

2011-02-07T02:28:00.001-05:00

The journal pictured above is from Oberon Design. I really came to like them very much after having found one of their journals at Goodwill for under two bucks and reselling it for just under a hundred.

Journals, diaries, notebooks — writers collect useful things in such. F. Scott Fitzgerald's notebooks show how a writer should go about collecting things. You should have many different notebooks and classifications of them, viz., Conversations and Things Overheard, Descriptions of Humanity, First Sentences. You should keep a daily journal, a dream journal, a journal for poetry, for musings, for essays, and if you wish to follow Pepys, a journal of bowel movements...

Journal Keeping Exercise

Robert Anton Wilson spoke of using English prime or E-prime — the use of English without any form of is or being. RAW states that E-prime is an acceptable form of expression in modern science, as well as being the type of consciousness Zen Buddhism tries to induce.

Forms of the verb to be do not create vivid images. By using E-prime, you will begin to choose more interesting verbs, and you will become more of an accurate writer. For example, instead of writing "John Lyerly was a scary man," you might write, "At the sight of John Lyerly's brutal shaven face within Julia's boarding house, Eugene's own face filled with a sudden recollective horror".

Make a page long entry in your journal daily. Try to extend the length of your sentences. Avoid "and" to connect the long sentence; try out other conjunctions. Experiment with shifts from third person to first person. Make use of stream of consciousness and internal monologue. Try making an entry containing only nouns of the day.

Example:

Tissue, Toilet, Socks, Coffee, Biscuit, Livermush, Grape Jelly, Computer, eBay, Chess, Bed, Goodwill, Freud, Farid Ud-Din Attar, Clifford D. Simak, Red Light, Woodfin Police, Issued Warning, Salad, Soup, Twizzlers, Red Hots, American Pickers, Universal Waite, Bicycle, Ginger, Valerian Root.

The Daily Sentence (stream of consciousness)

2011-02-05T02:03:00.000-05:00

Even brakes fail in the time of winter, once fell had new to; these used came back again, fell to the forest floor, gave birth as food, wormed, beetles, malarial mosquitoes, the headhunters, Amazonian river, boat of pipe-men, of coal, of roaches, hallucinogenic snuffer leopard peoples, occasional UFOs.

The Daily Sentence

2011-02-03T23:20:00.000-05:00

Crawling the grey scale, eyes weak, full of weariness, tired; the long lonely, of time and the river, afraid of numerous diseases, plethora of cancers; a stroke to watch from inside, the world quietly, the human heart, failing, falling quiet; death takes its time, the tools of God, one thing appointed unto man, back to the ground, fly away, until then, dragging the days, dig a nice cool shaded grave, crawl the grey scale, leave something behind.

31 Year Old Speculative Fiction

2011-02-02T14:18:00.000-05:00

THE MAGAZINE OF FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION MAY 1980 VOLUME 58 NO. 5

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

This magazine is currently the same age as myself — 31 years; and in May of 1980, F&SF had been in publication 31 years!

Amazing how in David Hardy's rendition for "The Merry Men of Methane", the Stardust ship looks like an electric smokeless cigarette, or maybe a pot-bat, even with nodules. The native is going to bust it up good with his big stone club.

The only author I recognized was Asimov, and he only wrote an essay on world population, which wasn't too interesting, but would be interesting to compare with the population of today.

R.M. Lamming is a woman. I knew instinctively that I would not like her story, "The Ink Imp", despite her Oxford background. Seldom do I like female prose. It was a dark and really depressing story, somewhat obscene (imp testicles are fondled), and ended with her character proclaiming himself superior and judging his cynical brother inferior. The moral is that caffeine fueled cynicism creates degenerate and asinine literature and leads to madness and demonic activity. I argue that female prose does do those things, at least in this case. I couldn't help but think that the entire story was a jib at her rather pessimistic male companion, whom, I gather from the story, was interrupting her writing with his friskiness.

Stephen Tall's "The Merry Men of Methane" was part of his "Stardust" series. I thought it was a bit of an outdated juvenile adventure, just barely entertaining enough to keep you progressing through it.

Bob Leman's "Window" didn't really make an impression on me until its surprising and somewhat disturbing plot twist, which I rather liked. The story was inventive to say the least. I thought the ending could have been better thought out, as it wasn't too clear. I rate it as third best story in the issue.

Keith Roberts "The Comfort Station" was really good, but in an annoying way. I rather think there is something deeply Freudian within the story - too deep to fully understand. I believe the major communication here is that man would rather enjoy an unreal and idealized woman rather than a material one, whose natural curiosity always drives her to do such annoying things as to try to save man from himself; to psychologically evaluate man, and tell him of her finding of faults. Curiosity killed the cat. I think the main character, known only as "the attendant", not only speaks to those men that society would label as submissive males (they are certainly not alpha males) but also, the attendant really is defining all idealizing males in their immature states. Reality sees these males adapt to the opposite sex and evolve into new creatures or face the fruitless future of the attendant, with his sacred picture book of the feminine and candle. The latter become sort of bizarre aesthetic disciples of femininity; often, by strange metamorphosis, transforming themselves into that which they worship but do not desire. I think this same strange manifesting principle is at work on all things. Anyhoo, I rate this story as second best in the collection.

John Shirley's "Eludes A Bride" is my favorite. He gives us bawdy masculine humor in its finest form. I really think Shirley is somewhat of a Rabelaisian genius. I wonder what else he has written?

Karen G. Jollie's "Bunny-Eyes" is the perfect example of why I despise the products of female writers (Agatha Christie excluded).

I'm always somewhat annoyed by the non-story departments of F&SF. Budrys article was OK though. Swarles article on films was putting on airs.

The Daily Sentence (randomized)

2011-02-01T01:37:00.001-05:00

Planned, prepared, don't mean level-the Nicoise — I, one, I think — you, feels, emphatically in undiminishing Pearson's money, already planned to, Horowitz wanted to, contacts you, Yale you. -Aaron DeWeese

Chess Lit from Seirawan and Silman

2011-01-31T00:08:00.000-05:00

Winning Chess Strategies

by Yasser Seirawan with Jeremy Silman

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

This was an interesting publication, as it is Microsoft Press; meaning that it was first put together on Word. Let me first say that there is an error on page 246 (there's a funny joke about publishers who thought they published an error-less book - they got the title wrong). Some manuals do not "give a King's point count as 3 1/2". Some manuals give a Knight's point count as 3 1/2.

This was the first serious chess book I have read through, and let me tell you, I got my analysis board good and broken-in. The other neophytic chess books I've read have been no where near 257 pages.

As a chess and chess literature newbie, I really learned a lot. I learned of pawn structures; I learned to read the position and know whether to prefer knights or bishops for the endgame; I learned of territory, and of targets.

Seirawan, towards the end, becomes a bit more conversational in his writing; and I like that. He even references a "prose-like" chess work, which I have now forgotten. I wish I had taken notes with a voice recorder, or used a highlighter at least, so that I could look up the books he mentioned. It will take a while to go back through. There was just so much good information; and yet, after every couple of paragraphs, you are given theory to work through on your analysis board.

The diagrams given half-way through notations were really helpful. Many times, I found I had erred. Wishing to glean as much knowledge as I could, I would start over from the beginning anyway.

Seirawan and Silman proved to me with this book that I really enjoy the nightly ritual of chess reading. My 5" magnetic sheesham wood set and I look forward to more.

1 Minute Bullet Game, Titled: "Woman in a Black SUV"

2011-01-28T02:56:00.000-05:00

I've not yet read any literature on it, but I'm sure that 1 minute bullet games are somehow beneficial to the chess player. If nothing else, over time, they give the player an intuitive "feel" for the board — patterns become cerebrally embedded.

I am always angered by players using only the queen, like she was some kind of club-wielding neanderthal (at times, quite surprisingly, this is very effective — maybe I should try it, as it seems a good surprise out-of-the-bush tactic for bullet games).

Many times, my emotion causes me to fail to logically deal with such daring divas; and in bullet, it is very hard to not make short-sighted emotion-based moves.

Because of my terrible opening, I nearly was bent to the black queen's will with 5. ...Qxe5+.

As you can see, the greedy black queen really stepped in it with 11. ...Qxa2.

Such are the things that can happen in 2 short minutes of nearly pure chaos.

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-28T02:16:00.001-05:00

All people but the most bibliophilic are poor handlers of books, whom habitually shelve (instead of destroy) nearly nameless neophytic paperback volumes with as much care as they shelve (instead of breaking the spines of) tomes of obscure analytic academia, such as: Ralph Lewin's Merde: Excursions in Scientific, Cultural and Socio-Historical Coprology and John Gregory Bourke's Scatalogic Rites of All Nations. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-27T23:43:00.000-05:00

Visiting that part of the metropolis which best gives indication of its personality — Star Street, with its kitschy shops, cyclopean condominiums, and pompous caravansaries (along with a few outright decrepitating fleabags) — I noted the flash of a mocking smile full of weltschmerz playing as a well played recording over an oil-stained man-dressed-in maroon's partially shadowed face, as he was looking back over his shoulder, away from the well dressed man with which he was shaking hands with, and, simultaneously I became xenomancer, seer. -Aaron DeWeese

The Voyages of Tomlinson and His Pipe

2011-01-26T15:05:00.000-05:00

THE SEA AND THE JUNGLE

by HM Tomlinson

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

Never having heard of H.M. Tomlinson, and never having read a travel book, it was Time Life's meager introduction which compelled me to purchase this volume for 75 cents. I both liked that it took place mostly on a ship, the Capella, and that the Amazon was visited.

The prose of Tomlinson was not at all that which I had expected it to be. I don't understand why he isn't more recognized. His writing is hauntingly poetic, eloquent, and descriptively detailed. He is never boring. His personality, his most intimate thoughts, his humor, are all offered to us. He gives us the illusion that he holds nothing back from us, hides nothing.

Here is an audio sample of his prose:

http://netherletterlog.blogspot.com/2011/01/introduction-to-tomlinson-read-by-aaron.html

I admire Tomlinson's rebellious spirit, which was an Orwellian (Orwell wouldn't write 1984 for another 39 years) result born of his eyes being opened to the chains of modernity. I can't help but notice that Tomlinson was ready to reemerge into society with a new spirit, after having been witness to the desolation of peril-haunted equatorial forests.

He often relates to us that he felt as if within the Amazonian foliage something dark and sinister and nameless sat in wait; that it could afford to wait, being timeless. He sees the building of the railway as futile, but praises the men who carelessly sacrifice their lives in the joint endeavor.

Back in England, Tomlinson notes that the trees seem as toys to him; all greenery seems blunted in contrast to the swelling Jungle.

I felt that Tomlinson was a very empathetic man—he tells us much of animals, and their treatment. Many had "pitiful ends". He tells us too of the "pitiful ends" of many of the workers who had been duped into coming to the Amazon by "the Company". It's postmodernist puerility to think that the cruelties Tomlinson reveals to us are a thing of the past. Horror goes on daily; and unlike many 'evil philosophies', I believe they are collective horrors. It is a defensive mechanism which supposes that the world is not tragic, that tragedy can only happen individually—that the holocaust was no more significant than the event of a single Jew being tortured by the Nazi doctors. I believe that this is the reason why Nietzsche's mind snapped at the moment he saw the old horse being beaten in the street; the reason Tomlinson saw himself reflected in the terror filled suffering eyes of the mortally wounded monkey which was to be dinner. Tomlinson was a Darwinian evolutionist, but no materialist, which explains the despairing beauty of his prose.

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-26T02:18:00.000-05:00

Make a stand against the flow of Time—escape to disassociate in a fiction down the Hudson River from two-hundred feet above, from Packman Avenue, from Hunts Woods Park, to the dumpsters of X20 Xaviars, to a Backgammon game with an Australian who worked for Dugway, to a swim in the North Atlantic, to a submarine, with a bookstore, where in a book, it is told that within action magic lay—I can't remember the author(s). -Aaron DeWeese

Straight Up the D File, Now Let Me Tell You

2011-01-24T02:34:00.000-05:00

This was a strange game I played, from Round 2 of an online tournament.

I start out with a nice queen-side territorial advantage, and well posted pieces on the king-side. Things look good for white until 19. Ne5? — a blunder which loses me my d4 pawn. I reply 20. Rab1, seeing the coming forking of my queen and rook.

Black loses his material advantage with the blunder 25. ...Bc6 — he should have made the move 25. ...dxc3. I use this opportunity to try to further confuse black by capturing has pawn on a5. I want to get his queen-side rook off of the back rank, because I plan to use it.

With 29. Rh4 I further distract black, making him think that I'm attempting an attack on his king via the H file. 29. ...Qxc5 doesn't bother me one bit. With 30. Ne4, I hope to sacrifice my knight so that my d1 rook has safe passage to d8. Black falls for it, and upon doing so, immediately resigns, not wishing further punishment with 31. ...Re8, 32. Rxe8+ Qf8 33. Rxf8+ Kxf8, leaving black's army seriously diminished for the endgame.

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-24T01:58:00.000-05:00

Here below this bedside, and even now yearning for prophets, as the credit goes, drumming neologistical desobrietization within the skull cavity, soon to be socketless eyes, now selling, loving, creeping to a rest, the helpless pieces in the game He plays upon the checker-board of Nights and Days—hither, thither moves, checks, slays; one by one—the moving finger writes, moves on, tears — Oh Henry!, Oh Ruby Ott!

Pale, She Stands Alone, Forking All About Her

2011-01-23T00:38:00.002-05:00

Hi! I'm reading chess books pretty heavily and finally seeing my online rating rise above 1200. To all the other neophytes out there (or sympathetic adepts) , I offer my own humble games, which are at least becoming more interesting to myself. Feel free to comment.

I destroyed my own king-side pawn structure in trading material with white, carelessly and kindly opening the G and H files upon my king, whom stands blissfully exposed. White, in his making haste to attack the black king, did not bother to castle so that his king-side rook could join in. I remained fairly confident that white's brutish queen would be unable to cause much trouble there by herself — 6. Qh5+ answered simply ...g6.

Ironically, when white did frantically attack with more pieces, I had evacuated to an iron defensive position queen-side; and as a result my queen alone was able to capture the pieces that white had miserably fetched into his own forks. I must say, my dark bishop was a devilishly sly fellow. With white's queen immobilized in the center, my rooks quickly came to aid the black queen in mating the lonely white monarch.

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-22T01:43:00.000-05:00

Eschatological readings of events, have, to this day, been erred; though who can say of tomorrow?

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-19T23:59:00.003-05:00

It was a cold Chilean day on which the space craft form Juliseptus from the deep emerged; though soon enough (after the Chilean's could not answer the Juliseptians' queries pertaining to Sir Francis Drake—due to language barrier) the Juliseptians would take their form and move through the Drake Passage, warming things up on the Strait of Magellan.

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-18T01:26:00.001-05:00

Oranges, porgies, boxes of calamity, undergrowth from green vidalia—what little stores are now rot; pitch smith the octagonal duodenum, our cook, cooks—sweats buckets; forthwith the bright sail, bearded Swede, 1JJ in pocket (of late in the century American historicity); a yellow sun encircled by Zephyr our flying flag; endless sailing with no thing in sight—all same, sky above, depths below, blue, blue, blue. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence (randomized)

2011-01-16T01:22:00.000-05:00

It satisfied roses, not saying to ashes, great in grace His strength, the sleet so up until of blood, harbor on another very Elephant Island writing, the almost bare, the furnace fire I would retreat unto and bring new; to see Shackelton and two fowl that were blossoming combined. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-15T02:53:00.000-05:00

The novaturient man's beaten body appears nequient, no longer able to support himself; and yet, his task, his trial, through which he has toiled, through which he has been brutally tudiculated, it is not yet through—he must call strength forth from his deepest reserve—the final obstacle is a test of willpower—the stern determination of this veteran defending his cause, standing firm in his beliefs, shall see him through; he shall attain the final summit, and be witness to the Eastern Sun. -Aaron DeWeese

Aaron's WRITER'S TIDBITS - Exercise #3: Haunted Past

2011-01-14T01:22:00.000-05:00

John Brill, “Bad Memory Untitled # 732-16” (2004–2006). Toned Silver Gelatin Print. Courtesy of Kent Gallery.

Future's Past Character

Negative emotions create strong memories. In Current Directions in Psychological Science, a journal of the Association for Psychological Science, Boston College psychologist, Elizabeth Kensinger's research reveals that negative events are remembered in greater detail than positive ones. This is an interesting fact to ponder upon, and ponder upon we do, helplessly.

Our childhoods are as a great expanse of darkling farmland, now ripened. We may pick the evil fruit from that nebulous intercerebral landscape and examine it with such an authentic lucidity that we often resurrect our experiences; and, consequently, our emotions reflexively and undeniably respond, as if time itself had been ripped away, and the event lay before our mind's eye as fresh as the moment that it had occurred.

As you read this, dear reader, we conjure up the unsettling character dwelling within your mind since your youth. Someone who triggered strong negative emotions within yourself—envy, fear, hate, resentment. They were very influential; they held power over you—had the power to make you take risks, had the power to make you miserable. The might have been your childhood tormentor, might have been your friend. And there that person is; immediately standing before you, clear as a bell, eyes smiling, with mocking smirk. You had their name on the tip of your tongue all this time. That's the one. We shall use that one.

WRITING EXERCISE

We now have our real-life character. Write down the details of what your remember of the person. Did you ever have any encounters with them, or had you only observed them from a distance? Be specific— relive your memories vividly in your journal, and expose emotion.

Next, if you have not seen this person in several years, place their character in the present time. What are they currently doing? What is their role in society? How might they live?

Now, place their character into the future. Where will that person be ten years from now?

Example:

Hidden Giant

Tsul'kalu' - Great Lord of the Hunt

2011-01-14T01:20:00.003-05:00

Hidden Giant

Drake James Wyvern, that was his name. The first time I saw him was during fifth grade lunch hour. I was silently eating my lunch, alone, thinking of Deice Cell Ell I, when a new student, with red hair, wearing a crimson red leather jacket, sat at a table two down from mine. His voice was loud and raspy, as if the night before, he had preached a fiery sermon down upon someone's head. He was in the midst of boasting, telling some tall tale to a casual listener or two. I wondered where he had come from. I decided upon the West—he must have come from the West. He seemed totally unaware of the fact that he was an outsider, and that like me, he would always be one. I found him to be mildly repulsing, though tolerable in his sheer uniqueness, his strangeness.

I next remember Drake James Wyvern being in my middle school home economics class. He seemed to be obsessed with Axl Rose, and would often become excited, even loud and argumentative, in proclaiming Rose's merits. It was a popular rumor at the time that Drake James Wyvern threw cats over houses. I believed the rumors.

One day, while strolling with Harry Jet Sir, Heraldic Liming, and Drake James Wyvern (all of us social outcasts) on the football field of Gravelly Spins, I remember Drake James excitedly talking of X-Men trading cards. I was as excited by his speaking on this subject as I had been a year or two earlier with his Axl Rose rhetoric.

I did not hear of Drake James Wyvern's strangeness (I do not recall ever seeing him again) thereafter until I came to Snob Rector High School. I think that Drake James had slate blue eyes, I'm not sure. I was told by someone that Drake James was taking people up to Devil's Courthouse, a mountain in the Appalachian Mountains of Western North Carolina. I would later learn that the native Cherokee Indians thought that a cave in Devil's Courthouse was where the slant-eyed giant Judaculla lived. Judaculla rock, the best known petroglyph site in North Carolina, is near by. It was said that Drake James Wyvern would only take people to Devil's Courthouse if they first assured him that they were not Christians. They must first deny Christ. Wide-eyed whisperers said that cars would stall on the mountain. I heard several times "LSD" mentioned. Jim would take his initiates to a certain spot on Devil's Courthouse where, to my horror, it was said that upon an outcropping of rock, the adventurers would be witness to a spectral human sacrifice — they, high-school kids, were the dilated witnesses to a residual haunting—a residual ritual murder.

Judaculla rock's strange markings are thought to have been carved anywhere from the Late Archaic Period (3000-1000 BC) to the early Woodland Period (Sassaman et al), (1000-200 BC). The Cherokee, for generations, had considered the land sacred. In recent years, Devil's Courthouse has been used in clandestine twilight initiations by numerous student groups from the nearby Western Carolina University. It is widely spread amongst students that ceremonies at the rock have provoked many paranormal incidents. Judaculla lay only a few hundred feet from an old graveyard. There are reports of strange ghostly noises, eerie illuminations around the stone, and even of UFOs appearing in the clearing above the rock. It is also said that the Devil himself holds court in Judaculla's cave.

If Drake James Wyvern escaped prison (many I knew did not), I can see him, with the passing of time, blending seamlessly into society, or at least of creating the illusion of doing so, as he did at the cafeteria table. I suspect that society has demanded him to come out from the darkness of the woods, to settle by the fire, to adopt materialism as as the one true god. He probably has a decent job, nice clothes, a haircut; he probably changes girlfriends every few months and drinks socially on the weekends. His old weirding nature may have passed; though he, once a fellow darkling nomad in my mind, paused there long enough for me to recognize something in him, of me—he aided me in the forming of my own weirding way.

The night now grows deep, and I am nurtured; sustained by mists. An ancient lore takes humanoid form, luring those who would follow into the darkened woods.

For this 1930s photo, the cryptic markings were filled with chalk. Since this valuable picture was made, the rock has continued to erode, making serious study increasingly difficult.
photo courtesy Jerry Parker

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-13T00:38:00.000-05:00

It wasn't yet evening and the temperature had dropped to twenty below—I tried to pee in the snow and instead I became chapped—so badly chapped that I had to remove my britches and undergarments (for the pain was too great) and encase myself in small bits of aloe vera which I would pinch off and butterfly, holding each one in place until it dried to my skin—exactly one thousand and one pinches it took; from twelve plants. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-12T01:32:00.000-05:00

Picking, picking, pausing port to port, probing, prying for prospect, practicing preparation, preparing provisions, pace of patience, pacificatory, panarchy of panegoism, pantagruelian, passing people picturing Polaroids, philosophasters passively pushing pawns in pastimes, partaking, pooping, partaking, pooping, parting, photism, provocation, a precipitate procession to the phrontistery, picksome puffing, pounding, pounding, pounding, pounding... -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-11T00:14:00.000-05:00

Stinking and detestable emergences from the Sun Ocean of the South made clean; they will have cured their daydreams and delusions, leaving the comfort of their tradition to follow new forms of probabilities; they will come alive, suddenly noticeable to all realms—all which the matrix sustains shall bear witness to their multiplicity of simultaneous existences; not one shall be able to predict their movements; in trials of fact, by oral testimony, their channeled testimonies against the ascendancy of the elect will reveal their implicit causality and seal their fates—they are not, and never were articles of individual consciousnesses nor individual substances, despite the paradox of their glory-eager individual beings'. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence (randomized)

2011-01-10T00:21:00.004-05:00

For ever everything — the board, wand, and moon; attentions, moon drink, the bundle — move on to comes another marching five, jealous — indecision — musicians looked about; uncommon method of communicating — broken into very small pieces. -Aaron DeWeese

Josephus Gets Nailed In The Head With A Rock

2011-01-08T01:58:00.000-05:00

Listen!

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-08T01:52:00.000-05:00

Sleepwalking, dreaming of wakefulness, paralyzed, floating consciousness, a weight on my chest, green eyes in the darkness, I jump off the cliff, I make the noise in my ears, I fly, I fondle the masses, I am the Dali Lama, I awaken, Christ transforms me, I am the fearful worm, time passes, darkness, visions, fantasies, terrors, panic engulfs me, I'm bored, I do that which I do not want to do, I am cynical, I am optimistic, I am not of my own Free Will, I do what I think I want to do, I am undisciplined, there is an ache in my tooth, a wrinkle, I need a pee, this place groans in the flow of time, it is decrepitating. -Aaron DeWeese

Friday LOLZ Pic

2011-01-07T16:42:00.000-05:00

The Daily Sentence (randomized)

2011-01-07T02:04:00.000-05:00

Black by white had nine reasons to Hester; by aromatic, the whistles hair —next they feet, then ready, said their tier; shrugged—few untidy locks understand, said Myron—game is won or lost, taught strands were, well, a bit easy; someone always hustles me away, steadfast and true along their way. -Aaron DeWeese

Render Unto Caesar or Hang Yourself With This

2011-01-06T03:26:00.002-05:00

The Zahir

by Jorge Borges

Listen!

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-06T02:38:00.000-05:00

Twain censored!, why Huck Finn's narrative is our own dark history; the history lesson must not be erased from it—as Thomas Wortham so aptly put it: "Twain must remain unedited, so that children may be challenged to ask 'Why would a child like Huck use such reprehensible language?" -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-05T01:40:00.000-05:00

I walk atop the mountain, over the valley, under the cloud; I see the mouth of the cave which leads deep into the mountain; I have a vision upon the high solitary path of stone—flesh lies within the cave, warm, a nexus, unseen danger, the smell of spores and of opium and of putrefaction; beautiful green eyes which ensorcell with longing and with hopelessness. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2011-01-04T00:02:00.001-05:00

This willow basket of oranges with concealed proclamation: damaged goods, sits under a shaded evergreen, their citrus sweet juices seeping out upon the rich earth—it is the tragic waste of the orange's precious beautifying hydrating moisture; they live through the process of their own mummification— perpetual shrivel—maggot populations are growing exponentially (we must eat these bloody oranges, anon). -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence (randomized)

2011-01-03T22:58:00.001-05:00

Regions but they lie translated; and the blood Jesus shed had man's free will—the world, they translate divinity, already having a receptacle, maximizing a place for the ceremony and almost secret battles. -Aaron DeWeese

Borges and I and Borges and I or Just Borges

2011-01-03T01:32:00.000-05:00

Labyrinths

Selected Shorts & Other Writings

By Jorge Luis Borges

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

I followed the winding labyrinth from Cervantes, to Sterne, to Rabelais, to Chesterton, on and on into paradoxical writings I go, 'til I come to believe that irony is the all.

Paradoxically, Borges sits in a library high above; that is cerebrally and intuitively. Borges being a librarian only partially explains how he came to read such obscure authors. I am impressed, and inspired to leave postmodern commonality in literature behind.

What can be said of the stories, essays, and strange parables collected here? They are short, and very complex. More than once I was left dazed, as if something large and unseen had just gone over. It helps immensely that Borges recites the same themes throughout, working them as a magical dough a baker might make 10,000 unique delicacies from.

"Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius" was disturbing and explains a lot by means of an elusive encyclopedia of another world, only proclaiming in the end that there are inhuman laws we cannot grasp; and they are very much at work.

I'll only mention a few of the stories I really enjoyed: "The Lottery in Babylon", "The Library of Babel", "Funes the Memorious", "Three Versions of Judas" (blasphemous, yet invoking contemplation of Erasmus' Free Will and Luther's Predestination), "The Sect of the Phoenix", "The Theologians"—I realize now I run the risk of listing them all, so I'll stop (I loved "The Zahir").

Each contains such an anvil of information and idea in so few words. The stories are powerful, nearly explosive, and leave permanent altering. I thought they were complex until I came upon Borges' Essays. These were mind blowing. "A New Refutation of Time" was reminiscent of Augustine's digressions on time, which ironically, were quoted from. Both turned my head on end. There is just so much deep thinking packed here. I feel I am at a loss. I feel I should read it again and take notes to quote from. Definitely.

An Introduction to Tomlinson, Read by Aaron DeWeese

2011-01-02T01:29:00.000-05:00

H.M. Tomlinson

Listen!

Samuel Pepys Reads From His Diary

2011-01-01T01:10:00.000-05:00

A day in the life of Samuel Pepys, 17th Century English civil servant.

Listen!

The Daily Sentence

2010-12-31T01:28:00.002-05:00

My mind swirled, in unison with the spiral of the galaxy as the cracked Symposiarch Lepidobotrys raised his tin can to the spectacularly luminous IRAS 19745+3119 (he had been watching that star, alone on the planet Gliese 777 c, sustained by NSMRIs, or Nano Space Meals Ready to Inject, since 50 years before—in 2189 contact was lost, and 15,000 light years away, Earth had written him off) and toasted to it thusly: A million covered, that's the life, swim to the Swan Cygnus, the watery path narrow, bordered by holes, black and sucking. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence (randomized)

2010-12-30T00:50:00.001-05:00

Someone, them the openness, tossed the dice; the crumpled letter for someone thought naked—would her music hired moments, buildings, hello performance. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2010-12-29T00:37:00.002-05:00

Shakespeare's Miranda, in Act V, Scene I of The Tempest stated:

Oh wonder!

How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! Oh brave new world! That has such people in it!

—and Emile Zola in his Germinal wrote: He laughed at his earlier idealism, his schoolboy vision of a brave new world in which justice would reign and men would be brothers.

—and in Kipling's The Gods of the Copybook Headings we find these words: And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins...

—and Yevgeny Zamyatin said: By complex ways, by looking deep into the dark well of the human soul, full of filth, somewhere at the very bottom of it Chekhov at last found his faith. And this faith turned out to be faith in man, in the power of human progress. And man became his god.

—and Aldous Huxley stated that: Consistency is contrary to nature, contrary to life. The only completely consistent people are the dead.

—and George Orwell groaned that: All political thinking for years past has been vitiated in the same way. People can foresee the future only when it coincides with their own wishes, and the most grossly obvious facts can be ignored when they are unwelcome.

—and Frank Herbert came to the epiphany that: The concept of progress acts as a protective mechanism to shield us from the terrors of the future.

—and now, I conclude that the future is terrifying, in that to manifest itself, the past must die—what we are must pass quietly into the night, forgotten by the light of a new day—to become obsolescent is not a contingent event but an inevitability—thus, the brilliant futurist Ray Kurzweil frantically preaches that: We have the means right now to live long enough to live forever. Existing knowledge can be aggressively applied to dramatically slow down aging processes so we can still be in vital health when the more radical life extending therapies from biotechnology and nanotechnology become available. But most baby boomers won't make it because they are unaware of the accelerating aging process in their bodies and the opportunity to intervene. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2010-12-28T00:19:00.001-05:00

This is squandered now, on what?—who can say, but that what it would have not been; and yet, how could it not have been else; lest we take this censure and apply its promulgation to tomorrow, nothing will not nor never be more. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2010-12-27T23:59:00.001-05:00

Parched, the throat, a glass of water dreamt, unquenching though deep—pain intensifies; a dryness cracks. -Aaron DeWeese

Aaron's Chess Library

2010-12-26T21:24:00.002-05:00

A picture of the books that I have collected on chess to date. Most have come from either Goodwill or Mount Sheba rummage in Jupiter, NC.

I've only read a handful of these books as of yet—slowly working my way through them with a 5" sheesham wood set I just love. Reviews of the books that I have read can be found here: Aaron's Book Reviews

I ordered my 5" magnetic set from a guy on eBay. It shipped from India to NC in less than 2 weeks. This was before USCF Sales started carrying similar sets.

A list of chess books in the pic above, from left to right:

How to Play Chess, Kevin Wicker

Winning Chess Strategies, Seirawan, Silman (I'm currently reading this)

Square One, Bruce Pandolfini

Pandolfini's Endgame Course, Pandolfini

More Chess Openings: Traps and Zaps 2, Pandolfini

MCO 13, Walter Korn

An Illustrated Dictionary of Chess, McKay

A Guide to Chess and Checkers, Mitchell and Reed

The Complete Chess Player, Reinfeld

How to Think Ahead in Chess, I.A. Horowitz and Fred Reinfeld

The Secret of Tactical Chess, Reinfeld

Chess in a Nutshell, Fred Reinfeld

Chess for beginners, I.A. Horowitz

Modern Ideas in the Chess Opening, Fred Reinfeld

The Bright Side of Chess, Chernev

How to Win in the Chess Openings, I.A. Horowitz

New Traps in the Chess Opening, I.A. Horowitz

The Pan Book of Chess, Gerald Abrahams

Chess Strategy, Frank Eagan

New Ideas in Chess, Larry Evans

Great Chess Upsets, Reshevsky

Chess Strategy, Lasker

Common Sense in Chess, Lasker

How Not to Play Chess, Znosko - Borovsky

The Middle Game in Chess, Znosko - Borovsky

Chess the Easy Way, Reuben Fine

The Mammoth Book of the World's Greatest Chess Games

Bobby Fischer Teaches Chess, Marqulies, Mosenfelder

My 60 Memorable Games, Bobby Fischer

The Daily Sentence

2010-12-23T01:11:00.001-05:00

Money is a symbol of man's free will, of possible futures, should Erasmus have stated; to which Luther should have replied: this thought is a clever trick, in opposition to the reality of money, as well as being proof of its evil influence—Borges should then rise and proclaim the pair incarnations of Aurelian and John of Pannonia, then quote the following Chesterton: coincidences are spiritual puns. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence (randomized)

2010-12-22T00:09:00.003-05:00

Elbows on the table; bestowed too soon, the news—shot dead three years weekly, by following orders waiting for you; then he came across a church—the pastor said everything we read about promoting (and this we, and now) of veiled will; devout fortune you enjoyed, lost Jesus. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2010-12-21T01:37:00.003-05:00

Celestial Camarilla

Lutulent light of the eclipsed moon upon solstice; the Yule-beings' feast of mead of poetry is prepared; the writing of the eulogy of the mighty, at this moment, like a bridge of masonry; and by a hidden hand, the smearing of butter; Beiwe's albino females are prepared for sacrifice within the hour—all now juxtaposed to the the antecedent 1638, the year of the lord, the Sun redeemed, entering again the first degree of Capricorn as, again, the mighty fall, their descent eventuated by their deception. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2010-12-20T00:26:00.002-05:00

Eastern Plutarchian skies covered in dissimilar tardigrade habiliments more suited to methane atmospheres; this is the danger in flying alone, traveling temerariously within tight spaces, the galley stocked with condensed cabbage-based stews (the last one of ours blew up—no vessel, no inhabitant thereof, no problems)—as I write this, indeed I close my eyes and I see...kipple; it dings itself stupidly against the hull now, from within and without. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2010-12-19T01:58:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, today, and tomorrow are dominated by perpetual caesaropapacy; and yet within this closing age—which has not yet ascended into agelessness, not yet tasted the fruit of the New Earth void of those watery depths—the least of you is the greatest, the greatest of you the least; and yet we are comparable by our natures; and yet by some mystery one of us—the greater—possesses a penitent heart which is hopeful of transcending its nature. -Aaron DeWeese

The Daily Sentence

2010-12-18T02:29:00.002-05:00

Wroth wasting warrior, willful, winter worn, walking watchfully, wholeheartedly wishing worry would withdraw, wits would withstand wrinkle; wondrous works within walled wormery, whereinto woods wouldst winds warble. -Aaron DeWeese

CONTACT truTV's Conspiracy Theory with Jesse Ventura - SAY THANKS

2010-12-17T23:57:00.001-05:00

Want to thank truTV for airing Jesse's show? Take a minute to do it! Imagine how many poor polarized proles are sending hate mail their way.

Use the following link to contact them and tell them that your are proud of them for airing Conspiracy Theory with Jesse Ventura!

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