tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-134061162012-02-05T03:00:08.918-08:00Thoughts and reflections (NOTE: Please do not use any of these writings without my permission. If you would like to use some or all of the pieces included on this site, please e-mail me at: lepasta@yahoo.com. Thank you!)Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.comBlogger6851100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-28766735131813078922008-09-09T19:37:00.000-07:002008-09-09T19:38:56.474-07:00

All:I have created a new, more interactive blog at: wtmore.ning.com. Please visit this site for the most recent postings and recordings. Thanks!

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-42396349056754942692008-08-30T11:27:00.000-07:002008-08-30T11:28:08.093-07:00

A great man said: Enough of piety. Let us take care of each other.Or, at the very least, that's what he was getting at. Martin Luther most certainly advocated for response to our inherent nature as stewards. What did he mean, though? Until recently, my outlook has been unfortunately Catholic. There is a vision of piety in the Mother Church that calls on individuals to spend abundant energy and

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-82640407108861926892008-08-30T10:59:00.001-07:002008-08-30T10:59:58.007-07:00

Ablaze, the conflagration of the Sun's day was. Enter Mr. Tea, wrapped about with linens and things, entouraged by the confused, if loyal Mattaman McKearnee. And the three of them, the sun, Techumseh, and the billowing bust of a nothing, that McKearnee, travelled between the hollow of the hut where sat the empty boxes and the dulled porridge with sea-saws of soup, and the roaring execution of the

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-43448782255101069812008-08-26T21:17:00.000-07:002008-08-26T21:26:16.429-07:00

Techumseh Tea, he braised the meat just so, its tendons lingering off the bone. And neither could penury admit it wants for a stale bit of bread, nor nobles its richness mollifying the unsavory skewer on which it brined and blistered.By way of accident, trudges in a snow and often trees forgetting where they were before, Mattaman McKearnee, dear friend, he lies beside the fire.And if and the two

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-68069007966249487362008-08-26T12:52:00.001-07:002008-08-26T14:31:09.126-07:00

It comes to be a quasi-liberal notion of despair: fanfare trampled in the streets, the holocaust of joy resounding in a mauling silence, and surely the end of happiness. But otherwise the stride of life was well, straight and to the sky. I have approached her several times, and been rebuked, though it's a temporary thing. She's of an imbalanced mind, sick for want of worry and nothing at all to

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-18303197358386488792008-08-23T09:26:00.000-07:002008-08-23T09:27:13.928-07:00

August 16, 2008C.S. Lewis had the inimitable gift of simile. While the Nazis bombarded London, thousands of its citizen hauled up in underground bunkers, he preached from the speaker of a radio. And as he did, in an almost nonchalant way, he brought the mystery of Christianity to bear upon the citizens of London.It is indeed no small task to wrestle with adversity, even death, and attempt to win.

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-7444467540560170282008-08-13T20:51:00.001-07:002008-08-13T20:51:39.326-07:00

And through odd coppice gates I continue on my way, consulting that disturbing darkness which Hardy once foretold. The darkling thrush, it says, the only citizen of winter's cold, keeps pace with me, and I with him. Am I Elijah by the dried-up river bed in darkness, fed by some hapless bird with wanderlust? And is it ignorance which finds him blind, to me a blessing from afar? I trudge through

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-66650365275814546462008-08-02T22:37:00.000-07:002008-08-02T22:40:36.324-07:00

Brothers and Sisters:Grace and peace to you, from Denver to Washington; may the love of the Lord God find you well. I have often received Philip here, as I work among the many who hate and defile me (though there are many more who have accepted me through Christ Jesus). It was he who reported to me those things which transpire along the coasts, and to the east, and the effects thereof which I can

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-68312975229826126812008-08-01T11:17:00.001-07:002008-08-01T11:17:46.882-07:00

In the field, the stalks, whistle, and sway, and walkAnd if it should rain: aplenty: and unceasingly on the ElbGod is our beneficence.In the province of Yushan, on the River UdanThe serpentine stream cords through states of riceAs many and as swift as count the days, swollen as the skyBut in the gorge of the Valley AnheckBefore the sun, and after taciturn dawn, and with the moon consigned:This

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-87416529637965911702008-07-25T22:47:00.000-07:002008-07-25T23:05:34.160-07:00

God spoke to the adulteress, saying:I reward the catalogue of faults with mercy.I have turned my failing eye and leathered cheekto your contumacious sex.And though I wield a power which numbsthe strength of kings, and fells them fast,It has not once intruded on your conscience!To which the whore replied:You made me fertile; you crafted me from fleshwhich lusts; you imbued me with verility,that

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-63241545113726240392008-07-24T19:01:00.001-07:002008-07-24T19:01:38.327-07:00

“The way to God lies through deep darkness in which all knowledge and all created wisdom and all pleasure and prudence and all human hope and human joy are defeated and annulled by the overwhelming purity of the light and presence of God.”—Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation (1962)It is both comfortable and dangerous to make a statement about how God should be found. It is comfortable

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-18359666156262363572008-07-21T21:24:00.001-07:002008-07-21T21:25:03.902-07:00

It comes as little revelation to us, brothers and sisters: sin is as confounding as all Heaven, and the treasures of Satan are as rich as the prize of redemption. Does it not seem that good sometimes stands in the place of evil? And that the malignancy of creation appears utmost beautiful before us—the calculated majesty of a greater being, either of the good which proffers life, or the negation

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-81965603122813368152008-07-19T14:16:00.001-07:002008-07-19T14:23:14.365-07:00

Eli chewed his oatmeal like a cow. The oats churned back and forth between his wobbly wisdom teeth and a protruding pocket in his left cheek. Unfortunately, his mother was out of honey.In a bay window, just a room’s length away, sat his younger sister, curled up in a ball. Between the bends in her knees and her flat chest lay a book, open to page 445. It was a thick tome, some ridiculously

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-83937191991550369402008-07-16T10:17:00.001-07:002008-07-16T10:17:38.215-07:00

Because there tires a timeWhen weary winsome will, Which reckless wreaking, Wrought upon the thinkingThought (all adumbrations mine),Scouts surfeit who spirits sullyAnd sunshine dulls do rain whatBright and bristling brier of the Sure should Shattuck shod:Oh! Catastrophic, catatonic curs And cold, conniving cataclysms—Rest your heads in heavy hearts thatHear the hallowed hearth and hailWhat Holy

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-87915563857932090882008-07-12T21:36:00.001-07:002008-07-12T21:36:54.714-07:00

Brothers and Sisters in Christ:I have fought with the most high, being with He who is from God, Son eternal of the everlasting Father! And I have toiled with His disciples, bearing every sacrifice on these shoulders to ease the burden on His own. And with the angels, I have sung; the seraphim I count my brothers and sisters. And who among the saints should not know my name?What of this,

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-28904865993302931662008-07-10T17:33:00.001-07:002008-07-10T17:33:20.947-07:00

In the early spring of 2003, I decided to give up masturbation for Lent. Laugh if you will, but I wanted more than anything to rid myself of an unhealthy impulse. The protracted guilt that hovered over me days after each sinful “impulse” was, naturally, a powerful impetus.Three weeks later, however, I conceded defeat.As I regained some perspective on the experience, wondering whether the guilt

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-7311607993633157022008-07-05T22:14:00.001-07:002008-07-05T22:14:39.294-07:00

Harvest moon, have you not madeWithin the fanfare of the scytheOne thousand hungry mouths that feedOn stalks of bitterness so litheIt traipse the hallowed heart of SundayWith an shivered, bellowed breathAnd would not fair young maidens wantNor men of old so soon to death.Crouch beneath the noonday sunsOr wallow at your nothing cares For Father Christmas, Father Time Come at the Sunday unawaresAnd

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-60057300185950542702008-07-02T13:16:00.000-07:002008-07-02T13:23:37.668-07:00

In the soporific squalor of Impending rainwhich resigns itself somehowto apathy;else in the merry-making sunwhere religion pressesin the sky and after rainsdo heavy trod:there stirs beneath the manicmind of nature naturing:'neath tufts of wheat or fallow fields which rideon coasting hills;at the crabby toes ofrocky tides muffled bythe creeping fingers of the water;or at the knotted oak—a

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-33889811091007149102008-06-27T17:03:00.000-07:002008-06-27T17:17:17.206-07:00

"The decency for which we commend ourselves, is, in a not-so-distant generation, the most disgusting moral turpitude.""Our continued preoccupation with sexuality—as a condition that cannot be addressed—has stalled the development of progressive, holistic theologies. Surely, we cannot speak of God without citing our physical selves, and indeed our physicality encompasses gender, sexual impulses,

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-76669968792872926672008-06-24T21:08:00.001-07:002008-06-25T07:09:46.664-07:00

There are days I feelThat I pass before SamuelAnd God says:... NEXT!

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-73140120395170865492008-06-24T19:42:00.000-07:002008-06-24T19:43:06.927-07:00

There is a shadow of a smileTantamount to lustLurking in your suggestiveSmileys.If there were more to your Profile than hypocrisy,I'd down my clothes,Right downThe chute.Truth is, my clothes are worth More than you:$5.99 on sale at Target;I've got the receiptTo prove it andThese aren'tThe pretornKind.What a country I can claimWith gay vagabonds likeYou: dressed one Minute, Nappy naked seconds 2

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-4337887823920063662008-06-19T20:38:00.001-07:002008-06-19T20:38:32.839-07:00

Q: It occurs to me, dear, how little care you took to teach our boys the things you soldiers do with swords.K: And what is it we do? So different than needle? We shape our history, and by the means of conquered men and certain soldiers slain. There's no mystery in warfare. Needling, that's another business...Q: Your son seems to have missed it. Look at him, he spends more time with books than

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-74904930502039902752008-06-18T20:49:00.001-07:002008-06-18T20:49:57.181-07:00

Optional Introductory Text:[This is a story of a generation of the God of Israel:Count yourselves sure:The Lord lives in these words.They rest not alone in the holy scripturesThey stir not alone from the pulpit;They are the foundation of our faith. I proclaim to you now:These are the acts of David, son of Jesse,Who was made King over Israel, Who was beloved of Jonathan:Who reigned with the Spirit

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-13858166906115390772008-06-18T20:09:00.000-07:002008-06-18T20:33:18.879-07:00

Amid the waste of rural daysAnd banks of high-tuft grassShrouded in the fevered fog,Your cattle grazed.Your son, it seems, has taken toWith labors menial and harsh.Those calloused hands, unworkedAnd striking soft, will somedayMount the walls.In the foundry of those digitsPlied good work, a meaningfulConstruction, if rent from roofTo steps in twain.I see: from on the shire,Thrones for cattle

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-7728390197237612222008-06-11T19:54:00.000-07:002008-06-11T20:27:56.112-07:00

Oh the eve of the 22nd birthday of the Lord (also known as Joshua, or Yeshua, or Yahweh, or YHWH if you can pronounce that), or thereabouts, he assembled the chief priests and scribes, and Saduccees and the Pharisees, the prostitutes and the vagabonds, the lepers and the ill-thought-ofs, and as he was pouring the wine, he said to them:What is a man, but a creation in himself? [By which, His most

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-76762462712276308662008-06-09T18:10:00.000-07:002008-06-09T18:11:10.227-07:00

Oh my God, man! What are you doing?Followed by two hemorrhages, three seizures, 17 acts of contrition, and a few laps in a pool filled with holy water. What did I do again? It must have been something...awful! Something so dreadful that it would make the whole world hate me! I'll be ostracized forever. Living on an island not even discovered yet, surviving on berries and coconut! It's the end.

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-81286203567630788462008-06-06T12:50:00.001-07:002008-06-06T12:50:24.623-07:00

They stare, most half-naked, through a mirror. They adore the whimsical imagination of Harry Potter. And, either half in love with cooking or enamored of the gym, they decide distinctly what will endear them to a significant other.These are the legions of gay men. Searching tirelessly for companionship that reaches beyond odd nights out for coital “coffee” and nameless makeout sessions in the

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-49845562646084225152008-05-29T14:14:00.001-07:002008-05-29T14:14:48.569-07:00

Time came after us;We were founders of the civility of the starsThat run in heavenly courts Before there was a dawn.Where the adjudication of the river'sEnd, there too were my angels;And was Her, who is I; The We of wisdom; the AllThat knows no life, but life isOurs. Sorrow nests with laughterIn our houses; Grief is a toyOf the child Avarice, and JealousyDrinks from the well Enough.Silence is all

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-73220055950857049232008-05-27T09:43:00.000-07:002008-05-27T09:44:05.793-07:00

Halfway between bites of sawdust-dry bratwurst on a rainy 4th of July, I asked my friend if he was enjoying my dog-cooking skills. “It’s not bad,” he mouthed, still chewing on a crusty bun. “It’s a little rubbery, but I put some mustard on it. You hardly notice it.”At which point, I darted for the kitchen, lifted the lid on the pot of beer-simmering brats, yanked one out, and carefully cut it in

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-77828229321201427202008-05-21T19:27:00.000-07:002008-05-21T19:28:18.376-07:00

I disagree with John Paul on the finer points of complementarity in the creation stories, but there are fundamental similarities in our view of mankind's genesis.First of all, we were created first and foremost a single humankind. This is the state of man when innocence prevailed and before he was made aware of sin. Second, the creation of man ('is) and woman ('issah) introduces a foundational

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-67657649460353973202008-05-17T16:01:00.000-07:002008-05-17T16:02:03.717-07:00

It is, perchance, the fault of scholars Who abscond with truth:Who reign with essay, tend with inkThe muddled moral sleuth.There Christian pundits always are,And by their regicideDie one fair king, and that fair sonWho with mankind collide.I speak, of course, of Jesus Christ,His Father, God the Lord,And all that reign, in heaven's realmBy love and not the sword.Yes, we have Michael the

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-33134755969351471742008-05-16T21:05:00.001-07:002008-05-16T21:05:42.207-07:00

In John Paul's discussion of marriage as an indissoluble union between created man and woman, there are several points which I feel need to be made—the first of which entails the creation of man as uniquely "human" with masculine and feminine qualities, the second which proceeds to draw conclusions on the role of "man" and "woman" in their dual creation.Following in the understanding Saussure's

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-67998503742757923882008-05-16T15:50:00.001-07:002008-05-16T15:50:49.301-07:00

The fundamentalist is gathering inside his stuffy browShoring up the fundaments against the irksome how:And out upon the churchyard plainPicnics soured by the soulless rain With young evangelists, who cross with bibles in their tow.That evening on the porchside stiffly sat with sour tea The conversations of a God, but one, who favors me:One whose death deferred to life And One who cannot fathom

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-51513700440379133672008-05-13T20:39:00.001-07:002008-05-13T20:39:45.603-07:00

Katherine Lee Bates, a 19th century American lyricist, once said of Easter: "It is the hour to rend thy chains / The blossom time of souls." I am sure that when she said this, she imagined the bright morning of Jesus' resurrection, brought into perfection by the realization of Christ alive again. Peter stares blankly, mouth gaping open, at the unhinged door of Jesus' tomb. The angel comforts: "Do

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-35553571580304751292008-05-10T19:49:00.001-07:002008-05-12T08:59:53.425-07:00

The foundation for John Paul II's theology of the body is the book of Genesis, a fitting place for the Catholic faith and, if we're slightly more generous, Christian faith as a whole. How we were created, and thus, how we believe we are naturally inclined to function sexually, is pivotal to the discussion of homosexuality in the faith.There are many philosophical points which John Paul introduces

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-27143651818742676302008-05-05T14:05:00.001-07:002008-05-05T14:59:40.626-07:00

From the earliest point in Biblical history, sexuality was primary. It figured into sinfulness and innocence, into the blessing of a growing creation, and in the complementarity of the sexes. John Paul II grounds his addresses (1979-1984) to the general congregation on this beginning, defining the universal foundation for sexuality through the origins of humankind.But these collected works, now

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-76857951334151293262008-04-30T12:50:00.001-07:002008-04-30T12:50:53.836-07:00

How I love sitting, pensive In sin;And intoleranceWhen it tolerates me.Wracking my mind,Rifling through piety Laughing scourges:While I let God die.How good it feels To be the vanity of sexNothing moreThan cocks and cum.And then go eat To excess, withBurger grease shining on My chin.Hurling invectives, vileFour letters at whomsoever I pleaseBecause they have blue-brown-yellow shoesAnd spit in

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-67501859088338346932008-04-28T21:28:00.001-07:002008-04-28T21:28:26.775-07:00

Saul of Tarsus built tents. He built them out of canvas and burlap. They were flimsy when he apprenticed, but as he grew older, the trade became easier for him; it became his own. To the centurions and soldiers he sold anything money could buy—from camps made of silk that might have boasted parapets, to conical windbags that would protect a single soldier from a single wind for a very brief

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-85169401606276028632008-04-27T13:11:00.000-07:002008-04-27T13:32:59.675-07:00

Out of the soured wound of so many institutional churches has come the concept of emerging church. Its attention is far from reformation, and revels in the spiritual revelation of the younger generations. They are many and varied, each attracting a unique demographic seeking to pair a latent personal spirituality with a community of like believers. Some ground themselves in the belief of Jesus

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-56686890796269278132008-04-24T14:35:00.000-07:002008-04-24T15:25:09.308-07:00

"It bears no resemblance to anything before it. It is stripped of provocation, and relies entirely on an abiding sense of life connected with a greater being. In this instance, it is Jesus Christ."[I often have images of new forms of worship paired with certain types of music. This is one image I have been cultivating for some time. The music to accompany this narration can be found here: http://

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-5144837184343288142008-04-23T18:42:00.001-07:002008-04-23T18:42:24.404-07:00

“That’s not the point, Anderson!” Except his name was Andrissen, of Swedish derivation and not close enough to the American bastardization to be anything like it. But it was not so blatantly wrong he could pretend he simply didn’t hear, either. In any case, Andrissen was perennially shy, lacking both the inclination and the strength to correct anybody, and so he never said anything. He remained

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-83775280097043663432008-04-18T09:57:00.000-07:002008-04-18T09:58:04.503-07:00

It is among the most human necessities that we belong. It is imperative that we are integral to existence in its many permutations. We are a brother in a family; without us, the family would not be whole. We are the minister of a church; the congregation worships as we guide prayer. We are students; without us, there would be no classroom, no learning, no progress. But when we are refused

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-35851176564221881762008-04-16T19:05:00.000-07:002008-04-16T19:06:12.439-07:00

It comes upon a man when he is Flagrant flesh, and little more than dust:What is he?Reverent age combines to form him,And all the intellect of nature sighs For his inception.Clouds are the skin of his womb,The trees are needles that sew through the earthFor the fabric of his soul,While all the sheer sunlight coats His naked limbs with glow. Goodness is the tired resolution of them all:And in

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-46083075784944435652008-04-11T12:59:00.001-07:002008-04-11T17:25:27.452-07:00

He hung reclusively by the frame of the cherry mantle, eyes inured to the darkness, buried in the embers of the fire. The once eminent oak logs, set in iron fingers at the heart of the heart, were now disfigured skeletons of ash. The wind found its way through the cracks of the brittle window frames, hushed the fire’s cackle, faded its glow, and finally, collapsed the skeletons into heaps of

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-46186313611009033632008-04-10T21:29:00.000-07:002008-04-10T22:23:27.846-07:00

Concerning that horrid state of God's affairsWhich we of gaydom live on unawares:At cap of nightfall, drinks upon the barThat swift were poured, and swiftly marThe great good state of sense we once employedAnd all the luxury of intellect enjoyed.Though as the many drunkards danceAnd shy ones give their chivalry a chanceThere stays a solemn few about the postThat linger silent as a thoughtful

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-14679105542370586712008-04-09T20:22:00.001-07:002008-04-09T20:22:59.634-07:00

It encourages me to know that we believe. For we either believe in the undefined other that motivates our constant refiguring of the world, or we believe in nothing at all. Some would call the latter nihilism. I call it, simply, human. Jesus came to earth, the gospels tell us, with a prominent message: Love. It isn’t distinct, and it bears no assumptions. This is the fault of the gospel. How can

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-33346862052052198092008-04-04T14:24:00.001-07:002008-04-04T14:47:23.203-07:00

Brothers and Sisters in Christ:The grace and peace of God the Father, the love of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.From among the many faithful of Denver, I commend to you this message:I, being one among many given the gifts of God, one disciple among thousands, one beloved among the created of human kind, have been called to answer the division

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-16667180000814203562008-04-02T13:30:00.001-07:002008-04-02T13:30:57.039-07:00

"I’ll have the Duck à l’Orange. Go light on the sauce, would you?” The waiter, forgetting to jot this down, scrutinized my denim jacket. The cuffs were fraying, a bit gauche I’ll admit, and several buttons were missing. Still, the fabric was pristine—a tribute to the fashion-savvy celebrity crowds that could care less what the dress code is at the world’s finest restaurants. The only ones, of

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-84553624620186884182008-04-01T18:43:00.000-07:002008-04-01T19:09:33.946-07:00

Today is the day born for sadness:Weeping will fill the earth as a dirgeAnd the deluge shall drown the living,Those who vilify the Lord.The graces of our ancestors are no more;Soldiers are shaken in their cavernous mail,And the children of the age fill our earsWith blood wails.What has this people done, O Zion?What transgression bears our blood?Is not the Lord, a merciful Lord?Has not He the

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-7672816037095000162008-03-31T18:54:00.000-07:002008-03-31T19:10:52.891-07:00

Let's review a momentWhat insipid practices IFoisted on old humankindToday, what prankish Glee I took to hurt her,Thinking only the laughterAnd the moment it ensued.There was the toilet-paperMonster, wrapped around The boss's desk, the dyingDell the face so fitting for The demon; Or perhaps you'reThinking of the lunch time Gambit with the cornbreadPudding, which makes an Awfully good impression

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-90565371314294790422008-03-31T18:51:00.000-07:002008-03-31T18:52:01.768-07:00

He had been stabbed before. Shot three times, patched up the wounds himself. He grinned as I imagine a Vietnam veteran does, half a century removed from his war. His left arm shook like a detached victim of Parkinson’s. And rather than carry the stub of a cigarette in his less nervous right hand, he kept it shaking in his left. The smoke trailed backwards as I looked at the dusty bus schedule,

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-5258215040779964462008-03-27T15:19:00.000-07:002008-03-27T15:20:08.819-07:00

Let’s not posture!Says the Legate as I wendFrom elbow in the StyxTo elbow. I would seemTo be nowhere bound,That hell’s too-triumphedRiver runs in circles And at points, to feed Its folly, crooks its neckWhile father reaper laughsAnd all the pause of currentIs the netherworld’s play.He stiffly taps the rear ofOur spittoon, goading it,As though it breaks from timeTo time, and needs a proddingFor

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-41223274001528008712008-03-23T14:05:00.000-07:002008-03-23T14:11:16.455-07:00

She lived thirteen and a half years, and then she died. Probably from syphilis, but nobody knew. The doctors wouldn’t complete the autopsy, her body was cremated, and the ashes were scattered to the capricious gales above the barnhouse. The animals made their dirge in a march from pastured comforts, sunny Califronia, to the colder side of the farm where animals dared not tread. And so she died,

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-67726327867282574892008-03-22T14:00:00.000-07:002008-03-22T14:12:18.643-07:00

-tir'ed posten, sire?-was sure fire, was-wasn't wayfire wobegon. aye saw it.-wasnyouthought wasntamatterin'. [which it was]no, the lessen. get up, half-the-day in your eyes! would crossbows twinge-a-make-mad the sorry old fat digits. but it was.likely the centaur. half-breed, hairy trunks! was wandering lamposts and wrapping the oom 'round the robe. lions a-mounted give sermons aplenty; one--spit

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-8849695125661412292008-03-17T21:10:00.001-07:002008-03-17T21:10:23.870-07:00

Achk'n'maam, doh'n't you know? Marple she was, brilliant ray of sunstar-moon, and shallow whistle tawhile whispers were, a bedside found, and knock-a-knock crook be caught, covers she had sew'd that crept askance the shimmering eyes. Ah, to bed now.Firsten you should Jesu the bowed men; up with embeaded tangles, shangles, shook and crook-ed were they now? Hush, hush, none of it! Ta bed-n-ya-sleep

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-57905251461893740682008-03-15T16:35:00.001-07:002008-03-15T16:35:50.888-07:00

It was happened, and they did not. Upon the shallow aft and bedpost fore, that Malachi, and Mrs.-bar-Ms. Marple turned attune to the window there, satting sure upon the day that rose the sun and noon was affixed the lugubrious clockface hung, oh! frequently she visage leant the four-minus-twelve would again. lost lockness; sure preening by the guild of that fair eye, that didest domes where Rome

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-88165948455796724202008-03-11T20:52:00.000-07:002008-03-11T20:55:37.376-07:00

I have spent many Sundays buried in prayer, knees bent, eyes to the dusty mire of a church floor. And when those eyes are finally raised, they are filled with contrite tears, unsure of how or when I sinned, certain only that I did.If my soul is calm those mornings, if it reflects itself and cannot but pursue the good and the bad of me, then my eyes close again, my head lowers, and I make my peace

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-48045871031286445382008-03-11T08:01:00.001-07:002008-03-11T08:01:58.704-07:00

God fits in humanity like water in a water buffalo. So stop asking me about it.Well, you didn’t, but I thought I’d beat down the barrage questions with a bold statement that prompts deep and protracted reflection. Pause.It makes sense, right? A water buffalo wouldn’t be a water buffalo without water, and yet you can’t rightly call a water buffalo water. It’s much the same way with Mama Deity

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-152766343184248772008-03-07T17:56:00.001-08:002008-03-07T17:56:54.556-08:00

In a crowded lecture hall of Oxford University in 1944, C.S. Lewis conducted the first of many debates on the inherent truth of Christianity. It was to be a monumental affair, shoring up the foundations of the Christian faith for Lewis’s native England, and for believers worldwide. Lewis is one of the few we remember in the history of Christianity who has endeared us to the religion for its own

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-13030868893657592392008-03-05T08:21:00.000-08:002008-03-11T15:46:12.251-07:00

“Yes, I’ll have the sundried tomato pesto sandwich, only without the pesto, and with the chipotle mayonnaise, hold the lettuce and onions, and—oh, I’m getting a call. Can you hold on a second?” She interrupts the order with her hand in the air, a referee’s “timeout,” and an urgent call from her friend Susan, who, incidentally, is also eating at California Pizza Kitchen. The event necessitates

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-70622447396979873482008-02-27T21:52:00.001-08:002008-02-27T21:52:56.486-08:00

Yon song in dusty staves resoundsThat minstrel and his lyre foundsWhat loving last these hymns rejoiceKnows never bounds and ever voice--I know of two beneath the smiling sunWhose vows for life they each had won;Their words caressed the holy fontNot beauty lacked, nor did they wantFor joys beyond what ushered there:Devotion, love, and boundless careUntil their dying days, as Nature claimWere they

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-15855116389253969182008-02-27T21:02:00.001-08:002008-02-27T21:02:41.256-08:00

The world collapses; enemies are contracted; wars are begun.The end seems imminent; it’s suddenly upon us. It has no name, no face, no language. It’s everything and nothing we can imagine. It is human nature and the lack of it; it is humanity suffering and flourishing; it is joy and sadness. It is as creation is: bound for pain, built with pleasure.When life is excruciating and there is no

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-25424517671696487942008-02-27T19:16:00.000-08:002008-02-27T19:17:52.283-08:00

WE WALKED a ways along the sidewalk until it wound up to an old open-air theater. There was no raised platform and no sound system. It was merely an open space, elegantly canopied by a tent-like wooden dome. It smelled like the circus.As we were leaving, joking about what must go on in such a random hideaway in Denver’s Highlands, one of my co-workers pointed to a weary old Cadillac. It was

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-44722390378911736262008-02-23T15:15:00.000-08:002008-02-23T15:17:18.651-08:00

On the wall next to my closet hangs a poster of the Last Supper. It’s the traditional print, recuperated from da Vinci’s masterpiece that was painted hundreds of years ago. It’s paragonically Christian; more so, it’s typical of the Catholic propensity for icons. On the door to my apartment hangs another poster—this one a medieval-style rendering of Christ and a companion, titled “Le Christ et son

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-71385929863714826452008-02-21T12:49:00.000-08:002008-03-05T08:38:00.348-08:00

Life is impossibly difficult to be happy about in its entirety. There's always something that isn't right, that we've screwed up, that causes pain we wish we could undo. It makes one wonder what all of this looks like when we someday die...sighs; long-held breaths i kept for forty yearsthat rattled the cage of the living.i passed on, you see, passed the mythical gateof the pious, the walls of the

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-17603520518466820532008-02-17T20:37:00.000-08:002008-02-19T11:42:20.505-08:00

Abram flipped up the sand with his toes. He stared at the divots they made, realizing they looked exactly like inversions of Sinai.God, meanwhile, eyed him through thick-rimmed spectacles. He could wait eternally, watching Abram avoid the questions and dodge the charges. His pipe was cocked just at the edge of his lips, whimsical curls of smoke periodically circling around his head."Did you hear

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-43831845782476816482008-02-14T18:02:00.000-08:002008-02-14T18:07:33.324-08:00

"Give over thy habits unto the Lord God,And thou shalt be saved."Mattaman arose, the bowels of the spider squirming onhis lips.---he shrieked, like a shriven girl, and miceOff flew Beelzebub, unto his own slipper. Such a clever little Satan, it tucked itsFine intestines into the house of his warming toes.Mattaman raised himself unto his knees, His arms lifted above him,A sword manifest within

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-32207040841466780512008-02-12T20:13:00.000-08:002008-02-12T21:40:29.275-08:00

When I have finished every fastand still my weight is round about me, mockingWhen I have uttered every prayerand yet the mysteries of life and God compound;When all my thoughts are focused and though I train myself for good, it failsWhat more will you want of me?That I see brilliant bodiesAnd smiles to match their curves;Melodies of words that come fromabsent-minded poems scribbled on a busAnd

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-60881699653715026212008-02-08T19:17:00.000-08:002008-02-08T19:18:07.681-08:00

I wonder if it’s not better that the gospels are short. Historians and scholars may bemoan the lack of detail, the truncated narrative, and the absent periods of Jesus’ life that were never unveiled. But if the Son of God were so clear to us as to be the very figure of our fathers, our brothers, our husbands, our lovers, our friends, could we even stand to read the bible?What imagination does to

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-52887476160859369102008-02-08T13:51:00.000-08:002008-02-08T21:36:30.659-08:00

It was recently pointed out to me that the Vatican is as guilty in its material indulgence as the sickening strip of Las Vegas that I recently railed against. The Pope doesn't eat bread and water for lunch, my friend said. Ascetics aren't popes.Touché.

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-45600271307861731592008-02-08T13:01:00.000-08:002008-02-08T19:33:03.075-08:00

Thus did they become thirteen: The Magdalene, who is called Mary,Andrew and Philip, Bartholomew and Nathan;There went with them also Andrew and Matthew, the tax collector,James and John, Simon the Caananite, Peter who is called Simon,and Judas Iscariot, who would betray him.This is the generation of the first disciples of Jesus the Christ,Yeshuah bar Joseph ish Nazareth, the Son of God.It would

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-12878440949964217962008-02-06T15:24:00.000-08:002008-02-06T15:54:51.129-08:00

Las Vegas reeks of greed. It's painted in money and built with plastic. There is nothing it stands for that is not abhorrent, and there is no redeeming quality to the whole damn city.Except that it's the most impressive thing I've ever seen.This past weekend, I had the privelege of visiting America's renowned "City of Sin." There were many good memories I took with me, but alongside the

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-83933995351239586372008-01-28T18:25:00.000-08:002008-01-28T19:00:19.978-08:00

I've discovered: I'm agnoizingly uncomfortable being comfortable.Yes, I should like the amenities of life that I earn, or that are given to me as gifts. I should relish them not only for what they are materially, but for what they mean as gifts of giving. I should enjoy these things.But I've found that I don't. Oh, I take pleasure in good food--but mostly because I enjoy it in good company.

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-62829637929728880392008-01-25T10:32:00.000-08:002008-01-25T13:17:27.163-08:00

Jesus said to the roughy as he slammed his head into the side of the boat:"Not yet! Wait until I tell you!”"What's that?" Peter asked, turning around as he untangled the thousands of strands weaving his net together.“Nothing!” Jesus said quickly, settling back into his serene slouch on the back of the boat. “Just going through the prophets—Isaiah, Ezekiel, Malachi, Esther, Ruth, Kings, Jehosaphat

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-56022591349467468612008-01-24T07:49:00.001-08:002008-01-24T12:58:59.528-08:00

Sitting on a bus, on a MondayAnd there are characters who read,Think to talk of knitting,And teenagers; their backs lacedWith bundles of books.I courteously stoop at houses,The congregation of the bus with me—Houses that nominate their LordFor everyone’s salvation; while70s-shoed grandmothers tote theirgroceries in painful strides towardMain Street.But between the neon playgroundsIn the bleak and

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-24264885390956447152008-01-19T12:00:00.000-08:002008-01-19T12:17:06.105-08:00

In re-examining the posts I made recently regarding my highly ambitious theology of the homosexual body, I neglected to address several important, foundational concepts that are at the very heart of the issue. Though procreative necessity is an important Catholic tenet, it fails to grasp the larger challenge of reconciliation of the homosexual self with one's faith.First of all, it's worthwhile

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-85255858431459220592008-01-11T12:03:00.000-08:002008-01-11T12:07:56.449-08:00

Beloved, Loyal, and Possibly Deranged Readers:I have created a new podcast for your listening pleasure. On this podcast, I will do readings of my poetry, prose, and epistles (among other things). Please listen and enjoy (most of it makes for good bedtime listening):joffo.mypodcast.com

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-19411758101409733432008-01-10T15:10:00.000-08:002008-01-10T15:31:54.257-08:00

I am a man whose vintage is of five-and-twenty;I have walked by martyrs in the making,I have slept by cousin Goths and firebrands!And with them both I hobbled as a ClaybornLifted far above the desert faith of thousands. I have wailed from hangmen's nooses hung,I have clutched the stumps beneath beheading axes;Why, I have conquered Rome! And still I cannot count a cause, Still my faith is

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-37726737166045986742008-01-09T13:57:00.000-08:002008-01-10T15:35:06.278-08:00

Hindi men, like cobras, and friendly with the dustHave taken too a God to task with war.And soldier men, mothers of the crying fields, screamAloud their oaths against the state.They preach across the branch of governmentUntil their voices yield raw;Until the moons arise and set before the sun is yellow-brightAnd enemies are fabricated as in factories. Toys of war, you novice kings of war!And

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-1735587413036199842008-01-04T11:37:00.000-08:002008-01-04T11:53:21.578-08:00

Grafted, they line the skies with columnic RomeAnd turn about to find the whole of modern AmericaTilted at the face of a summer's day.Once there was a poet, who, being tired of his houseSpoke of what it meant to reside on earth, and nothing more.He did not live, before, but on rotten wood and dreams.It came about in the course of living on the outsideHe was not welcome anywhere, and everywhere

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-40138930622356816572007-12-27T15:06:00.001-08:002007-12-27T15:06:41.706-08:00

Beloved:In the earliest years of Christianity, celebration was clandestine. It was, by the account of David Logan in his history of the church, a dangerous continuation of worship rites that flouted the authority of Roman emperors. It was, almost be definition, the red-headed step child of the Empire.Paul’s adventures were just as troublesome—both to Petrine jews who struggled with the thought

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-56079479228417408912007-12-25T13:07:00.000-08:002007-12-25T14:11:33.563-08:00

Court of yonder trees, where at the thickets' stand,And at their feet below, all waves all countermandWhat silence stood at birth of abbey's cloistered stoneToday is wrought to lash and hiss and ghostly moanDear prior, at the hilt of worlds' inoculation:What prayers you mutter soft for glory and redemption?What have at best the waves the animals excited But neither human ear, nor spirit there

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-47582763938516649342007-12-24T15:53:00.000-08:002007-12-24T16:28:13.761-08:00

If wares beneath a candled treeStood wise of all eternity,If bow-wrapp'd toys and Christan wile On early morn leant even smileIf clotted cream and dancing drinkDid men of every caste make think Or subtle draw the spirit forth From absent souls, their gilded worthAnd christen lives that empty wereFrom sorrow, for the merrier,Oh, I would Christian convert ever beAnd church to church destory all

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-77207501176619808512007-12-24T11:30:00.000-08:002007-12-24T12:17:06.415-08:00

The vikings stirred on Christmas mornAnd with their blood-licked, red claebornWrest the stillness of the day From peace and all attending spirits' way.At Rome they trampled through the streetsThe lives of merry men and able Cretes,They took what pleased their hoarding handsAnd raped the rest, with blood demands. Oh God! That myth and legend leant us truthAnd were not storied by the hollied hearth

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-15103095875371718842007-12-19T13:11:00.000-08:002007-12-19T14:22:33.400-08:00

Beneath the fabric of a thatched roof, she was weighing her thirteen, fourteen, fifteen jugs of water. The ribbons of the liquid danced from rim to rim, and she jostled and turned to correct them. Until they were silent, until they were still. She was canvassed in black, shrouded in mystery, more graceful than Salome. Her arms extended far beyond her reach, as her fingers knelt in the crevices of

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-90574565623554235072007-12-18T17:10:00.000-08:002007-12-18T17:29:28.008-08:00

Hard to imagine an un-monumental monument, I thought as I passed the Capitol building tonight. It had little significance for me; few memories, if any, were associated with it. And yet, it dwarfed me in size and symbolism. Something about this great structure--and all of the statues that surround it--mean a lot to the people of this state.And with monuments bigger than myself came thoughts of

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-77164320601596824602007-12-17T12:52:00.000-08:002007-12-17T13:23:56.232-08:00

I stared at myself in the gym locker mirror.Too many biceps in the wrong places, I thought. Maybe you call those triceps. Or monoceps? The workouts haven't been progressing well.But then I think of what they provide: the time to think, to muse, to come up with my next riveting blog post. For those who read this, it will be a beacon of LED light. For those who don't, you probably won't miss much.

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-43831846786647353902007-12-17T09:00:00.000-08:002007-12-17T09:47:33.342-08:00

Oh, the banner of incipience!Oh, the paragon of lust!that I am.If anyone rejects me because I am kind to the wrong people, they do not understand kindness.And what if I love men who are unlovable? I am corrupted.Though it has been said of me: He is the one who forgiveness too much, forgets too much, gives too much. They have been wrong.I give hardly at all while I take; and I forget nothing. My

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-25785211758070411242007-12-14T08:41:00.000-08:002007-12-17T09:00:34.455-08:00

The white hummed in silence, it pummeled the outstretched fingers of the trees. Across the open mile, rung with pine, the dejected sky filtered into a snowy horizon. Nothing dared a vibrant color; if emotion is hid in extreme of hue, nature was silent. She was, at best, rusty sadness. At most, her eyes were black and mouth clamped shut. There was not one thing to be said; it was surely, it was

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-83507208196394255322007-12-12T08:02:00.000-08:002007-12-12T08:05:28.236-08:00

Birthdays are subtle reminders of our own mortality. Which is why, I think, it's important to reinforce the evident with chocolate cake decked with chocolate chips and slathered with decadent and creamy chocolate icing.Unless, of course, you're allergic to chocolate. In which case, the cake would really reinforce your mortality.

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-13085780523380706302007-12-11T08:34:00.000-08:002007-12-11T08:53:14.107-08:00

In opening up the discussion of spirituality and the body, I received a very insightful comment on the nature of "aberrant" sexualities. The comment was simple--perhaps so simple, it has been understood as common sense and dismissed as self-evident. In passing it by without due consideration, however, we have failed to truly understand it.Homosexual attraction is no different, my reader said,

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-40739411734214733232007-12-09T16:24:00.000-08:002007-12-11T08:16:03.977-08:00

Ever since the early 1980s, Pope John Paul II has held the monopoly on theologies of the body. An inadvertent product of talks given to the College of Cardinals produced one of John Paul's most treasured works. The interaction of body and spirit is, of course, an important topic in theology and has recently (and unapologetically) become the topic of debate in less mainstream congregations. What,

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-12123834769798367762007-12-07T09:40:00.000-08:002007-12-07T10:07:58.198-08:00

Christmas shopping is similar to a urinary tract infection. The prognosis is good, but the painful guttural piercing is prone to induce vomiting, uncontrollable shaking, and feverish hallucinations. Treatment is taken in pill form, but regrettably, is only effective over time with the addition of afternoons spent watching "I Love Lucy" re-runs.And yet, when you're in the midst of it, you can't

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-16565079622552410882007-12-06T07:18:00.000-08:002007-12-10T07:54:57.976-08:00

Thank God, the memories of longing,The infancy of life that so impassioned was!Praise God, the childhood that in happiness was rearedAnd days embraced in sunshine!How simply gilded the horizon wasHow soft, the pillowed snow came fallingWith eternal pleasures on Christmas morn!Oh God, where is my heart today?Wandering incendiary hopes, it is,From that debilitating hollow, it isFlying from the

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-23400729344352013722007-12-05T07:18:00.000-08:002007-12-05T14:20:08.830-08:00

William,It is occurred (as profoundly still occurring) the way in which, through serpentine rhetoric, I stumble across a most ordinary thing which is observed in such a way that has heretofore eluded me, being thus necessary to our joint existences and having, by its character, the means to turn one whole and apathetic human testament upon its head. I have no doubt these revelations previously

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-35777332077619184542007-12-03T19:39:00.001-08:002007-12-03T19:39:41.221-08:00

I’m lucky. It’s not surprise—to me or anyone else. There certainly are times when I’m so stubborn and short-sighted I don’t see my own potential. Despite those moments, everyone in my life is always there to lift me up when I’m down and gently pull me down when I’m flying too high. It’s a balance that plays out without me knowing it. If only I trusted it more…As I grow older, I naturally notice

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-18665027560957177312007-12-01T20:49:00.000-08:002007-12-05T14:20:46.285-08:00

I'm drawn to poverty and depravationAs fire to destruction, as rain to a flood.Does anyone ask me, "Why do you breathe?"Has a single soul asked me When I was well, or when I was sickAnd every breath burned from soreness?Even so I breathed; even so I endure The taxation of a wretched lifeThat I may fulfill that purpose whichChrist, my Lord ordains.But can it matter which love commandsMy attention?

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-57550357023930057582007-11-29T13:27:00.000-08:002007-12-05T14:24:25.911-08:00

Let's not forget that cookies have their place. As you recall, three-hundred-eleven Christmases ago, the ghouls of stockinged past preferred the unctuous, sandy butter cookies made by Danish elves in the hills of Minas Tirith. Yes, I know they were caves, but the mountains, says the Epistolary and Bedtime Jewish Storybook, shall be made ever low, and the deepest of valleys deified. Therefore, it

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-54034997169651860962007-11-28T09:34:00.001-08:002007-11-28T09:36:49.996-08:00

I've been told that my whimsical appropriation of words, verbose as I come and dense as they rattle my sentences, with convention eschewed and volatile passions displayed in archaic, dead tongues, meets with accessible as often as sun greets the night and lepers have ever been paragons of hearty constitutions.I can't begin to understand why.

Feroe Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14143873393898194746noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13406116.post-15335565544286746842007-11-27T08:39:00.001-08:002007-12-05T14:26:32.555-08:00

it, the rarefied rodent, anxious ran, someway past the dilapidated buckling door with the swallow of a pig, figured outside its vast dimensions and jesikei, being neither jewish nor mexican, rapped on the door from its bulging hinges and aching copper neck. it sang with a buxom dance that jiggled for a rhythm moment, designing the cold-cropped weeping of a doleful Tuesday between the shadowy

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