HOT NOW

Besides being what people say about me, "Hot Now" has a much more important meaning.

When someone asks what heaven is.
The answer is "Hot Now."

You see, Heaven is like standing in a Krispy Kreme in the middle of the night. Can't you just picture it. The blurry eyed young man in his now disheveled going-to-the-movies clothes is starring at the hundred and hundreds of tasty goodness flowing past him like the river of life. After the great guy movie he has just seen with his friends, he stands in the empty lobby and all he can hear is the hum of the neon sign. He stands there transfixed by the white glaze on the doughnuts and he fills this sudden peace overcome him a peace that knows no bonds a peace that is everlasting. That, my friend, is heaven.

When someone asks what grace is like?
The answer is "Hot Now."

You see, grace is like walking into a Krispy Kreme at midnight and receiving without having asked for it, a doughnut! God does not wait for us to ask for forgiveness before offering it to us. Actually, he calls us to him, just like Krispy Kreme calls us by way of the big red sign. Many of us have experienced it. We are hungry for something. There is deep longing inside of our stomach for something and then the glow of the great neon sign calls us. That is what it is like for us spiritually. We are longing for something but do not know what. Then god calls us to himself. Then He prepares us to accept his offer just like the smell of Krispy Kreme prepares us to accept the free gift. A gift that we cannot refuse. That my friend is grace

When someone asks what is hell like?
The answer is "Hot Now."

No, no I say this not because of the common idea that hell is a fiery place. Instead, let me ask, like I ask my students, what is so good about heaven? Well the good thing about heaven is the presence of God. The next question must be, what is so bad about hell? Well, the bad thing about hell is the absence of God. Can't you just picture the little kid standing in Krispy Kreme on a Saturday morning. His dad is holding him up letting him look at the doughnuts roll by and the young boy can smell their sweet aroma. Then his dad puts him down and leads him out of the presence of the doughnuts and back to the car. That, my friend, is a picture of hell.



I wanna write a book like this--someone find me a publisher.

My Leaving CD

Here is the CD I made for my move.

Tom Waits: The Heart of Saturday Night
Tom Waits: Shiver Me Timbers
Tom Waits: San Diego Serenade
Kara's Flowers: The Great Getaway*
Kara's Flowers: As Things Collide
Kara's Flowers: Good At Being Gone
Julie Delpy: Waltz for a Night
Julie Delpy: Ready to Go
Julie Delpy: Mr Unhappy
Elton John: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
John Mayer: 3x5
Lucero: Tears Don't Matter Much
John Mayer: City Love
Jimmy Buffet: West Nashville Grand Ballroom Gown
Jimmy Buffet: The Wino and I Know
Jimmy Buffet: A Pirate Looks at Forty
Jimmy Buffet: Son of a Son of Sailor
Jimmy Buffet: He Went to Paris
Jimmy Buffet: God's Own Drunk

*Kara's Flowers is Maroon 5 before they were Maroon 5

Fishin'

I went fishing with my dad today. I think it is a tradition (if something done twice can be a tradition) that we have started. We go fishing once during the summer before I leave for graduate school in the great white north (definition North--anything north of Memphis). I love to go fishing. I guess I should clarify what I mean by fishing. The first thing you should know about our fishing trips is that we never catch anything. Secondly, we do not stay until we are tired. Instead, we leave after we have lost all of our bait. I guess I should explain something else. We do not use live bait. No, I refuse to hold a cricket and I will not plunge a hook through the abdomen of anything. You might say that this is incongruous with the idea of fishing. "He does not mind killing a fish or putting a hook in it," you say. Well you are wrong I would never kill a fish with my own hands and moreover I would fell terrible if I had to yank a hook out of ones mouth, but I do not have to worry about this. You see, I have not caught a fish since I was in junior high school.

So why do I enjoy fishing? I don't know. I really enjoy this place we go. It is on the Sunflower River and called the locks and dam. The dam has not worked for fifty years or so. I think the reason I like going there is because of the history. My dad has a picture of my grandmother there when she was teenager. My mother tells me stories about going there when she was a kid. Her dad (Daddy Peach) would pull a vine out of the tree for her to swing on while he and grandma Peach fished . Then one of my earliest memories is of going there with my family. My dad and sister would fish while my mom and I built little houses out of sticks.

So why do I enjoy fishing? I don't know. I really enjoy the place we go. It is the Sunflower River and called the locks and dam of my imagination. The dam has not worked for many year. I think the reason I like to go there is because of the history. My dad has a picture of my grandmother there as a carefree teenager before adulthood came to her. My mother tells me stories about going there when she was kid. When she could swing out over the water with the carefree heart of a child. Then one of my earliest memories is going there with my family. My dad and sister would fish while my mom and I built little houses out of sticks.

So why do I enjoy fishing? I don't know. I really enjoy the place we go. It is the long snake like river. It is the moan of a bygone time. It is the laughter of the careless youth. It is the giggles of the carefree of child. It is the warmth of my family. You see, my dad and sister would fish while my mom and I built little houses out of sticks.

I went fishing with my daddy today.

Masterworks of Ming
by Kay Ryan

Ming, Ming,
such a lovely
thing blue
and white

bowls and
basins glow
in museum
light

they would
be lovely
filled with
rice or water

so nice
adjunct
to dinner

or washing
a daughter

a small
daughter,
of course
since it's
a small basin

first you
would put
one then

the other
end in

remembrance of things past

so yea, I am probably writing way too much on here--but like Mrs. Harper pointed out to me, I have way to much time on my hands.

It is funny that I start by talking about Mrs Harper because this post is about past things. The other night I was laying in bed and could not sleep. That in itself is somewhat funny because, as many of you know, sleeping is my hobby. As a result of my "naps" in the afternoon, I do not sleep at night. Yes I have tried counting sheep, but this causes me to start thinking about sheep. I have tried "Baptist whiskey" (AK Niquil) but it tends to freak me out when I wake up at 4 am and my arms will not move. So this night I was simply trying to name all the people in my graduating class. While there were only 27 of us, I could not name them all. I did not feel bad about this because I do not remember people easily. A friend of mine has told that I don't remember people because I never really look at people. I don't know.

In the top of my closet is a box labeled "senior crap." So at 1:30 in the morning I pulled it down with the sole purpose of looking at my year book (which was not there). What was there was a scrap book. I looked through the book and came to the end where there was a stack of things that I never glued into the book. In the stack was something I have been thinking about off and on for the past seven years. This item is very important but it is not something that is unique to me. Many graduates from GCS have one of these. Some still have it. Some lament its lose. I was talking to Andy the other day and he too has one. He laments its lose.

This object, this artifact of my youth, is my letter from Mrs Harper. For those of you who don't know this woman. She was the English teacher at GCS. Mrs Harper taught senior English and ever year she wrote a lettter to ever senior. By the time I graduated she was one of my favorite people. I loved her class. I remember sitting in the back of her classroom my senior year making fun of all the people in there. Ashley, Joel, and I had fun!

It is funny, that is all I can remember about her class. I think the reason I loved her as a teacher was not because of her knowledge of the subject or her great presentation but because of she cared about her students. She saw what they were suffering through and ached for them. This the curse and privilege of a teacher. Thanks......

anyway, I am at work, so I guess I should go read--haha

So, yea I am at work. For those of you who do not know, I work at a hotel. Let me just say first of all that, while I stay in hotels, the following statement does not apply to me.

PEOPLE WHO RENT ROOMS IN HOTELS ARE STUPID!!!

Let me give you the my most recent example. Pay attention because it gets somewhat confusing. This lady comes up to the counter and says that she is locked out of her room. Well, I proceed to give her a key to her room. She then tells me that she does not need a key. Immediantly a very confused look comes over my face. She begins to explain. Then, seeing that I still don't grasp the situation, she explains again. After five or so minutes of my face carrying that mystified look I finally understood that I was not the stupid one--she was.

Here is what she did. She has two adjoins rooms. In room A, she latched the security lock. She then exited room A through the adjoining door into room B. She, being the bright person that she is, closed the adjoining door. Just in case you don't know, these door only have knobs on one side. You cannot open them from the other room. She is therefore, officially, irrevocably locked out of her room.

Now I, being the caring (and cute) front desk guy that I am, called the maintenance guy. He informs me that he will be here in about an hour. When I inform the lady that he will be an hour, she gets rather upset. Now I can understand that she wants in her room, but the entire situation is her fault so i have very little sympathy. I guess I insinuated this when I repeated several times "you locked yourself out."

Anyway, the funniest thing was when she asked if I could call a rescue squad to get her in so she could take a shower--I told her no.

anyway, I am going back to work and will add more later-

So, yea I thought I would start this blog. It might be fun to do while I am in New York.
I hope however, that it does not interfere with my journal writing. Of course such
a public forum can't be as confessional as my journal, but I am concerned that it might
steal my favorite thoughts away from the private journal. We shall see.

I just finished This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It is amazing the amount
of melancholy that comes with finishing a book. However, my response to this book
is not the traditional response. I do not miss Amory Blaine like I missed Dorothy
Day or Ender Wiggin. I missed Day because she was doing that which I want to do.
I missed Ender because he was that which I want to be. Amory is different. Maybe
he hits a little close to home. Maybe we are searching for the same things. I don't
know. All I know is, when I wake tomorrow, I will not long for his company.

It is funny though. At the end of the book Amory thinks back to his senior year
at prep school. That year which seems like a thousand years ago was only seven.
My senior year was only seven years ago as well. I too have been thinking much of
that year. Or more precisely, I have been thinking on the seven years.
Oh the places I have been and the things I have done.

I have smelled the incense of a Buddhist stupa and slipped in the blood of Hindu sacrifices.

I have lighted candles in Catholic cathedrals and knelt at alters in Pentecostal meetings.

I have seen the Sistine Chapel and heard the echoes in St. Peters.

I have mused over the works of Monet and smiled up at Andy Warhol's Chairman Mao.

I have smelled the inside of medieval European cathedrals and reclined in the stadium seating of contemporary American Mega-churches.

I have tasted love and the lack there of

Oh the things I have done and the places I have been.

Amory Blaine sets out on a new path after his seven years. Will I? I don't know, but
one thing is for certain. I have to start a new book. I am trying to decide what book to
read next. I imagine this will be the last book I will read before I set off for New York.
I picked up Eudora Welty's Delta Wedding. This would be a good choice to end the summer.

Any suggestion?

Any way, I am off to bed.