More an ode really, and a story.
Every year, from the day after Thanksgiving through Christmas day, I strive to listen to nothing but Christmas music. This serves a couple of purposes: it gets me in the mood for Christmas (and that's a mood in which I like to be) and it justifies to enormous collection of Christmas music I let stay on my hard drives and iPods throughout the rest of the year.
I love Christmas music so much. I can't wait, each and every year, to listen to every version of "The Wexford Carol" I can find; I can't wait to listen to the Veggie Tales Christmas albums. I can't wait to listen to Bach's Christmas work. I can't even wait to hear the Aspenglow, by John Denver.
But these past two years, I've had my share of inner-struggles to keep it up. In both instances, the challenge has been staged (quite unaware, I'm sure), by my favorite celebrity: namely, Kanye West. Last year, in mid-November, I recieved "My Beautiful, Dark, Twisted Fantasy." It was the best rap-album I'd ever heard, and the most artistically progressive album I've listened to since first playing Sgt. Peppers on repeat 500 times my senior year of High School.
I was able to push back the urges. As badly as I wanted to listen to the album, I successfully listened to nothing but Christmas music for the appointed time period.
This year, well, things are a bit different. I've already failed. Kanye was the culprit again, with a new album. This time round, he's joined by Jay-Z on "Watch the Throne." My christmas-listening pledge never stood a chance. I got the album a few days before the wedding (though I'd listened to it many times on Grooveshark beforehand) and listened as often as I could til our last day in New York (the day after Thanksgiving). I was doing so well listening to Christmas music. If I found myself wanting to pop Watch the Throne into my car CD player, I just switched to sports talk radio.
But I gave in, on the way to the LSAT last Saturday. Scratch that- I didn't give in at all. I made a CD with Watch the Throne and two appropriate pump-up tracks to intentionally listen to on the way to Oberlin. But the hull was breached. I've listened to non-Christmas music many times since (and not even exclusively Watch the Throne).
I don't think it's just Watch the Throne's brilliance that led me to do what I did. It is brilliant. It might be the pinnacle of hip hop. It might all be downhill for the rest of hip-hop history. It might be Led Zeppelin's last album, so to speak, if Hip-Hop is rock and roll. Kanye and Jay-Z aren't retiring (Jay-Z probably will a few more times, but that's neither here nor there) so I could be wrong, but if, in 20 years, nothing has been released that approaches "Watch the Throne" I won't be surprised.
Just five years ago, that last paragraph would have been veritably impossible for me to write. Before I went to China, I almost never listened to Hip Hop and I rarely enjoyed it when I did. I won't recount that whole story because I don't think I quite understand what happened yet.
I can, however, account for why, exactly, "Watch the Throne" was exactly what I wanted to listen to when I was going in for a day long test that will determine my life's trajectory. Something happens, something changes, for good or ill, inside the listener in the words rhymed to a beat in exemplary hip-hop. I can talk for days and days about how Kanye elevates Hip-hop to fine artistry from an aesthetic standpoint, but ultimately, there's something of a mental exchange that always happens when the words are flowing and it vibes with the listener's soul in a unique way. I've heard taking cocaine likened to making one feel invincible, like they can do anything. In a similar way, getting lost in a good verse of hip-hop does that very thing to a listener.
I've loved music for as long as I can remember. But I've never needed music the way I need the second verse of this song:
No, that's not on Watch the Throne. It is, however, perhaps the most exciting minute in the history of music. And it's one person. All of Hip-Hop, even Watch the throne, defined for it's greatness as a collab, is a series of interconnected personal projects. Every verse is a one man show- even if its a tradeoff that creates the whole. The beat, the best beats at least, are the created by one person and rapped over, by one person.
Art, great art, the greatest art, is often defined as the truest possible expression of one individuals interpretation of the world or their inner being (and often how they interact). That's why Proust is wonderful (albeit dense and challenging) and Hollywood Action movies are universally panned. Part of it is motive: why is it created. Part of it is execution: how is it created. Hip-Hop is a basic equation: personal beat plus personal verse= track. But the applications are endless.
As a post-modern aesthete, what could be better than an unadulterated expression of a human's inner self in response to the outer world expressed emotionally? It's the ultimate post-modern art-form really; there is little to no impersonal rap...not even this:
I won't talk much about the applications of Waka Flocka Flame and his ilk, but I do believe there's an important space for that type of work in the body of Hip-Hop. It's expressing a side of life for someone, and as such, it's valid, even if it's incomprehensible and abhorrent to people like my mom (and I imagine yours...even if I don't know you, I can probably bank on that, ninety times out of ninety-one)
Though I share little in common with Kanye or Jay-Z, for the past 5 years, nothing has thrilled me more than their shared tracks. Watch the Throne is an entire album of my favorite type of tracks since roughly 2007. It's existence was exhilarating and experiencing it, even at the expense of a long-held Christmasrule, has yet to get old.
As the name suggests, it's something of a celebration of the opulence both artists lives are known to hold. But it's introspective at times too; if anything, it's a critique akin to the Great Gatsby. Unlike that work, which often initiates High School children to great literature, Watch the Throne really isn't for the uninitiated. If you're not a fan of hip-hop, you're not going to suddenly get it from this album. If you're easily offended, you'll still be offended. But if you like any form of hip-hop at all, how can tracks like this not drive you to the point of joyous delirium?:
That's the first track on the album. It just builds and flows from there, and by the end, if you're not at least rethinking how you approach entertainment, then that just means you've got to listen again. Or at least, that's what it means for me.
But part of it is all irrational. For some reason, God made me so that I'd connect with tightly wound hip-hop no matter the content and for me it's a semi-spiritual experience. That can't happen to everyone, but at least for me, it's a sort of indulgence I must take, and, in doing so, transport my soul to a different place, even for a few moments. And when I emerge? I'm only more and more the person I'm meant to be.
-Zack
"I don't even know what that means; no one knows what it means, it's provocative, it gets the people going"
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Finding Eyes
N.T. Wright, who is much more important to people who've never heard of him, I think, than he is to many who have, is famous for being the marquee voice of the "New Perspective" school of Biblical scholars.
I'm not going to write about that. I like the idea though; a new perspective.
I've read reviews, blogs, facebook posts, tweets, heard sermons, podcasts, Hillsdale-lunch-table addresses refuting recent Biblical scholarship, theological pondering, self-reconfigurement, when such things flew into the face of "tradition." Tradition, ancient dogmas, long-held beliefs, it seems, gain credence because they are such.
I may have been an English major, but I guarantee that's an indefensible defense in any lab or law room.
Other things that have long been established: forced prostitution. Slavery. Bigotry. Homophobia. War-mongering. Ethnocentrism. Toxic patriotic worship of the nation-state.
How long something has been around is a part of something's facticity, and nothing more. I've been around for 24 years. Does that mean I'm inherently more trustworthy than a 22 year old guy? How old was Benedict Arnold?
I am the biggest proponent of post-modernism as an ideology that you'll ever meet, so perhaps I'm biased.
But I didn't adopt it because it was the thing to do. As I learned and read and continue to read, I've realized that Foucault, Derrida, and Fanon weren't just flying in a face for the sake of the impact: they truly believed that their way of viewing the world improved upon the old way.
In that same vein, let me get a big arrogant for a minute: I don't choose to view the world through a post-modern lens: I do so because I believe it's the lens that best allows us to understand it (whatever there is, that is, that can be understood).
So if that's true, then I've got to ask, once more, once more forever over again, what happens when I hold to that belief while I hold to the belief that the Bible is the inspired world of God? I can't put my trained, cultivated lens on hold just because of what I'm reading. That's not possible and I've learned that, time and again.
And what does happen, what happens indeed? Things I'll never stop learning, never stop writing about for one. Today, I've been thinking about a few in particular: structures, systems, well, they're put on hold when you're looking through the post-modern lens. Face-value is the only value. So when Jesus says that the things you bind on Earth are bound in heaven and vice-versa, He meant it. What does that mean for me? It means Nietzsche and Jesus had a lot more in common than anyone would have ever guessed. This isn't an essay, and I don't feel like explaining that, but I will, for a moment: Nietzsche (about whom most Christians know little other than "he's a really bad guy who hated God!") considered morality a state of personal preference: we hold ourselves to what seems right and wrong based on our upbringing and perspective. The philosophy textbook I had called this individual perspectivism. It's not quite saying nothing is objectively right or wrong, but it comes close. Jesus doesn't say anything like that, but he does say, quite plainly, that God honors the things we establish as right and wrong on Earth.
What, wiggle room? That can't be Christian, can it? Well, why not? Even with a lenient, nearly-non-existent take on morality, who would ever say they've never done anything wrong? It's an experiential slippery slope to a tabula rasa, sure, but let's be realistic: do I have to acknowledge my sin based on someone else's rules or my own to come to confession? Be careful with your answer. If you're talking to someone who doesn't believe smoking is a sin and you do, but to humor you, they repent of it in asking Jesus into their heart, have they actually confessed anything? In my mind, smoking is a disputable matter, to use Paul's words. To use Paul's arguments, that means if I do it and think it's sin, it is....if I do it and think it's not, well, I'm in the clear. In other words, Jesus and Paul (who usually stand at odds in the traditionalist mindset; systematic theology is, far too often the study of how to be an exclusionist, racist, bigot and feel good about one's self) agree on something and it's something most American Evangelicals don't even believe.
That's just a bit...I could say more. I don't have time. I'll never have time. In any event, in any case, keep pushing forward...someday we'll find the river.
-Zack
"314 soldiers died in Iraq; 509 died in Chicago"
-Kanye West
I'm not going to write about that. I like the idea though; a new perspective.
I've read reviews, blogs, facebook posts, tweets, heard sermons, podcasts, Hillsdale-lunch-table addresses refuting recent Biblical scholarship, theological pondering, self-reconfigurement, when such things flew into the face of "tradition." Tradition, ancient dogmas, long-held beliefs, it seems, gain credence because they are such.
I may have been an English major, but I guarantee that's an indefensible defense in any lab or law room.
Other things that have long been established: forced prostitution. Slavery. Bigotry. Homophobia. War-mongering. Ethnocentrism. Toxic patriotic worship of the nation-state.
How long something has been around is a part of something's facticity, and nothing more. I've been around for 24 years. Does that mean I'm inherently more trustworthy than a 22 year old guy? How old was Benedict Arnold?
I am the biggest proponent of post-modernism as an ideology that you'll ever meet, so perhaps I'm biased.
But I didn't adopt it because it was the thing to do. As I learned and read and continue to read, I've realized that Foucault, Derrida, and Fanon weren't just flying in a face for the sake of the impact: they truly believed that their way of viewing the world improved upon the old way.
In that same vein, let me get a big arrogant for a minute: I don't choose to view the world through a post-modern lens: I do so because I believe it's the lens that best allows us to understand it (whatever there is, that is, that can be understood).
So if that's true, then I've got to ask, once more, once more forever over again, what happens when I hold to that belief while I hold to the belief that the Bible is the inspired world of God? I can't put my trained, cultivated lens on hold just because of what I'm reading. That's not possible and I've learned that, time and again.
And what does happen, what happens indeed? Things I'll never stop learning, never stop writing about for one. Today, I've been thinking about a few in particular: structures, systems, well, they're put on hold when you're looking through the post-modern lens. Face-value is the only value. So when Jesus says that the things you bind on Earth are bound in heaven and vice-versa, He meant it. What does that mean for me? It means Nietzsche and Jesus had a lot more in common than anyone would have ever guessed. This isn't an essay, and I don't feel like explaining that, but I will, for a moment: Nietzsche (about whom most Christians know little other than "he's a really bad guy who hated God!") considered morality a state of personal preference: we hold ourselves to what seems right and wrong based on our upbringing and perspective. The philosophy textbook I had called this individual perspectivism. It's not quite saying nothing is objectively right or wrong, but it comes close. Jesus doesn't say anything like that, but he does say, quite plainly, that God honors the things we establish as right and wrong on Earth.
What, wiggle room? That can't be Christian, can it? Well, why not? Even with a lenient, nearly-non-existent take on morality, who would ever say they've never done anything wrong? It's an experiential slippery slope to a tabula rasa, sure, but let's be realistic: do I have to acknowledge my sin based on someone else's rules or my own to come to confession? Be careful with your answer. If you're talking to someone who doesn't believe smoking is a sin and you do, but to humor you, they repent of it in asking Jesus into their heart, have they actually confessed anything? In my mind, smoking is a disputable matter, to use Paul's words. To use Paul's arguments, that means if I do it and think it's sin, it is....if I do it and think it's not, well, I'm in the clear. In other words, Jesus and Paul (who usually stand at odds in the traditionalist mindset; systematic theology is, far too often the study of how to be an exclusionist, racist, bigot and feel good about one's self) agree on something and it's something most American Evangelicals don't even believe.
That's just a bit...I could say more. I don't have time. I'll never have time. In any event, in any case, keep pushing forward...someday we'll find the river.
-Zack
"314 soldiers died in Iraq; 509 died in Chicago"
-Kanye West
Monday, November 28, 2011
Some things, they happened.
I got married.
I went to New York.
I came back to Cleveland and realized that I don't ever want to live in a different city, almost immediately.
The NBA is back.
Urban Meyer is Ohio State's new coach.
I returned to CSU and held Bible study again and it felt good.
I turned 24.
Thanksgiving happened and I'm back into Christmas music
Other things, more minor things, happened too. That's in no particular order, but the top one should be where it is, that's certain. It was an incredible week. To say I can't believe it's already over is an understatement. But it's a struggle, to jump back into the grind. I don't know if it's good or dangerous that next week is already the last week of classes at CSU.
It's a good thing for my reading. I've still got to finish 10 books to reach my goal for the year. I'm only close to the end of three right now, plus Wuthering Heights (which I can't wait to begin on Thursday). I've got to finish 6 other books I've got hundreds of pages left in or haven't started yet (effectively having hundreds of pages left in them). I haven't failed yet since I started this reading schedule. I might fail this year. That happens, when you get married and plant a chapter in the same year. It's been a busy year.
I feel a lot more grown up now, than I did November 18th. Its got to be artificial, because what really changed? But what really changes ever? Isn't it just a mindset anyway? It's a good thing because I'd say it's about time.
We walked by Occupy Wall Street on Friday. It was small and kind of annoying. I'm all for the occupy movement in concept; if anything, I don't think they come out as anti-capitalist enough for my own taste. But essentially, that's where I see the broken link. Our system is broken because of Corporate greed, but corporations are greedy because the system rewards them for greed and favors the non-benevolent. It's impossible for the 99% to get their fair share within this system, so protesting at Wall Street isn't going to accomplish much, because this system is set up to benefit those who have and punish those without. As long as that's the case, it's game over before it's game on. Until people are people and valued a such (and not considered a commodity), our crick widens and our paddle dwindles further to oblivion.
But like I said, I got married. It's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm only beginning to understand what it really means, but it excites me to the brink of frivolity just thinking about it.
-Zack
I went to New York.
I came back to Cleveland and realized that I don't ever want to live in a different city, almost immediately.
The NBA is back.
Urban Meyer is Ohio State's new coach.
I returned to CSU and held Bible study again and it felt good.
I turned 24.
Thanksgiving happened and I'm back into Christmas music
Other things, more minor things, happened too. That's in no particular order, but the top one should be where it is, that's certain. It was an incredible week. To say I can't believe it's already over is an understatement. But it's a struggle, to jump back into the grind. I don't know if it's good or dangerous that next week is already the last week of classes at CSU.
It's a good thing for my reading. I've still got to finish 10 books to reach my goal for the year. I'm only close to the end of three right now, plus Wuthering Heights (which I can't wait to begin on Thursday). I've got to finish 6 other books I've got hundreds of pages left in or haven't started yet (effectively having hundreds of pages left in them). I haven't failed yet since I started this reading schedule. I might fail this year. That happens, when you get married and plant a chapter in the same year. It's been a busy year.
I feel a lot more grown up now, than I did November 18th. Its got to be artificial, because what really changed? But what really changes ever? Isn't it just a mindset anyway? It's a good thing because I'd say it's about time.
We walked by Occupy Wall Street on Friday. It was small and kind of annoying. I'm all for the occupy movement in concept; if anything, I don't think they come out as anti-capitalist enough for my own taste. But essentially, that's where I see the broken link. Our system is broken because of Corporate greed, but corporations are greedy because the system rewards them for greed and favors the non-benevolent. It's impossible for the 99% to get their fair share within this system, so protesting at Wall Street isn't going to accomplish much, because this system is set up to benefit those who have and punish those without. As long as that's the case, it's game over before it's game on. Until people are people and valued a such (and not considered a commodity), our crick widens and our paddle dwindles further to oblivion.
But like I said, I got married. It's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm only beginning to understand what it really means, but it excites me to the brink of frivolity just thinking about it.
-Zack
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
RePrint
As you can see, if you've ever been here before, I've redesigned, retitled my "blog" once more. As I've developed a more regular writing schedule elsewhere and I don't use this like what the term "blog" has come to mean, with regards to a posting schedule and topic, I thought I'd leave the esoteric and grasp the pragmatic.
Nothing really changes except that I've accepted the truth about my blogging habits. I've never actually edited, at length, a blogpost before posting. I just sit down and create from the top of my head about whatever is striking me with enough force to generate a roll of thoughts. I like it. I want to keep doing it.
That's why I'm recreating this once more. Days pass and time goes on. You could say we're always learning. I like to consider learning the process of reclaiming the reality that truly is, locked deep inside of every person, everything, every experience, everywhere.
-Zack
Nothing really changes except that I've accepted the truth about my blogging habits. I've never actually edited, at length, a blogpost before posting. I just sit down and create from the top of my head about whatever is striking me with enough force to generate a roll of thoughts. I like it. I want to keep doing it.
That's why I'm recreating this once more. Days pass and time goes on. You could say we're always learning. I like to consider learning the process of reclaiming the reality that truly is, locked deep inside of every person, everything, every experience, everywhere.
-Zack
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Rough
About one week ago, while we were walking Alexandra's dog, a red, fairly new Mazda 3 pulled up in a driveway behind us. We kept walking, figuring it to be the person who lived at that house. It was but a second though, before the car's driver beckoned us back "Hey, do you live around here?" she said.
"We do, but we're not really from around here" I replied, assuming she was about to ask for directions.
"Well, you should be careful walking around here, if you don't know, it's a pretty rough neighborhood" she replied.
I didn't know what to say at the time, so I just said "it's okay, we walk around all the time, there've never been any issues"
"Okay" she said, as we started walking again.
The driver was probably in her mid-thirties, obviously from somewhere else as she sped down the road and turned right on Madison as we continued our walk.
I still have no real idea what she's talking about, primarily because I have no idea what makes one neighborhood "rougher" than any other short of calling it such.
The truth is, I've never felt in danger walking around our neighborhood, between W. 98th and W. 85th, Madison, and Lorain. There have been a few loose, biggish dogs that have had me worried from time to time, but more kids wander around than anything else. It's an inner-city neighborhood, to be certain, but how does that preclude it, by that very fact alone, from being as safe as the corner of Columbia and Wolf in Bay Village?
I'm exaggerating a bit to make a point; there are generally more sirens in our neighborhood than there are in Bay Village. But even so, it's not so markedly unsafe that a warning to two white people walking a little white dog ought to be issued by concerned, upper-middle class women from Rocky River who got lost trying to get back to 90. I can't fault people for being concerned, but I can and have to fault them for perpetuating the stereotypes.
What makes an inner-city neighborhood rough is vastly different, as far as I can tell, from what gets it to the place of being considered "rough." In my mind, rough means dangerous- like, gang activity, drive bys, muggings and drug busts on the daily.
Some of that might or maybe probably does happen in my neighborhood to some extent. But it's not brazen and it's not to the extent that groups of fairly well-behaved and joyful children don't run about playing any number of games everyday after school. I've never once heard a gunshot and I've only seen cops driving through the neighborhood with lights on twice in ~6 months.
So why did someone stop to warn us? Because people in our neighborhood make, on average, less money than people in Rocky River. No one really owns their home in our neighborhood. People do own some things- pit bulls, mostly. I imagine it is a more dangerous neighborhood than others, but the roughness is primarily a matter of perception.
Until we stop thinking of neighborhoods as rough in and of themselves as a result of perception, they won't ever improve. Not because they're not improving, but because we're basing it on a felt (though imaginary) need to be better than someone else to be well off. Why live in the suburbs when you work downtown? Because it's safer. If it's not safer than somewhere else, then why live so far away? Sure, the houses are nicer, but the innercity houses can be improved too. But they won't be; as long as people believe the people who live in those houses are likely drug addicts, greedy, lazy welfare recipients without education, then they don't have to think those people deserve nicer places to live.
It's not that my neighborhood is actually all that rough or dangerous. But it has to be thought of as such, or else a lot of work, a lot of staring yourself in the mirror and admitting issues and prejudices would have to take place. It's so much easier just to call it "rough."
Maybe I'm naive and hopeful. I don't care. I just know that until we start believing that others are worth our time and investment, we, as a society, will continue to fall apart. A lot of people love Cleveland and want to see it renewed. I like to think I'm near the front of that line of well-wishers. But we'll never see it happen, Cleveland, if we keep believing that the majority of our city is "rough" and doesn't deserve our time. This city isn't just sports teams and restaurants. It's people. Believing in Cleveland isn't believing in some ethereal sense of civic pride from Strongsville. It's believing that everyone in Cuyahoga county has inherent value- from the poorest person at the corner of Carnegie and east 45th to the richest person on Lake Road in Bay Village- and living, breathing, acting, as if that is true.
-Zack
"In our weakness help us see
That alone we'll never be
Lifting any burdens off our shoulders"
"We do, but we're not really from around here" I replied, assuming she was about to ask for directions.
"Well, you should be careful walking around here, if you don't know, it's a pretty rough neighborhood" she replied.
I didn't know what to say at the time, so I just said "it's okay, we walk around all the time, there've never been any issues"
"Okay" she said, as we started walking again.
The driver was probably in her mid-thirties, obviously from somewhere else as she sped down the road and turned right on Madison as we continued our walk.
I still have no real idea what she's talking about, primarily because I have no idea what makes one neighborhood "rougher" than any other short of calling it such.
The truth is, I've never felt in danger walking around our neighborhood, between W. 98th and W. 85th, Madison, and Lorain. There have been a few loose, biggish dogs that have had me worried from time to time, but more kids wander around than anything else. It's an inner-city neighborhood, to be certain, but how does that preclude it, by that very fact alone, from being as safe as the corner of Columbia and Wolf in Bay Village?
I'm exaggerating a bit to make a point; there are generally more sirens in our neighborhood than there are in Bay Village. But even so, it's not so markedly unsafe that a warning to two white people walking a little white dog ought to be issued by concerned, upper-middle class women from Rocky River who got lost trying to get back to 90. I can't fault people for being concerned, but I can and have to fault them for perpetuating the stereotypes.
What makes an inner-city neighborhood rough is vastly different, as far as I can tell, from what gets it to the place of being considered "rough." In my mind, rough means dangerous- like, gang activity, drive bys, muggings and drug busts on the daily.
Some of that might or maybe probably does happen in my neighborhood to some extent. But it's not brazen and it's not to the extent that groups of fairly well-behaved and joyful children don't run about playing any number of games everyday after school. I've never once heard a gunshot and I've only seen cops driving through the neighborhood with lights on twice in ~6 months.
So why did someone stop to warn us? Because people in our neighborhood make, on average, less money than people in Rocky River. No one really owns their home in our neighborhood. People do own some things- pit bulls, mostly. I imagine it is a more dangerous neighborhood than others, but the roughness is primarily a matter of perception.
Until we stop thinking of neighborhoods as rough in and of themselves as a result of perception, they won't ever improve. Not because they're not improving, but because we're basing it on a felt (though imaginary) need to be better than someone else to be well off. Why live in the suburbs when you work downtown? Because it's safer. If it's not safer than somewhere else, then why live so far away? Sure, the houses are nicer, but the innercity houses can be improved too. But they won't be; as long as people believe the people who live in those houses are likely drug addicts, greedy, lazy welfare recipients without education, then they don't have to think those people deserve nicer places to live.
It's not that my neighborhood is actually all that rough or dangerous. But it has to be thought of as such, or else a lot of work, a lot of staring yourself in the mirror and admitting issues and prejudices would have to take place. It's so much easier just to call it "rough."
Maybe I'm naive and hopeful. I don't care. I just know that until we start believing that others are worth our time and investment, we, as a society, will continue to fall apart. A lot of people love Cleveland and want to see it renewed. I like to think I'm near the front of that line of well-wishers. But we'll never see it happen, Cleveland, if we keep believing that the majority of our city is "rough" and doesn't deserve our time. This city isn't just sports teams and restaurants. It's people. Believing in Cleveland isn't believing in some ethereal sense of civic pride from Strongsville. It's believing that everyone in Cuyahoga county has inherent value- from the poorest person at the corner of Carnegie and east 45th to the richest person on Lake Road in Bay Village- and living, breathing, acting, as if that is true.
-Zack
"In our weakness help us see
That alone we'll never be
Lifting any burdens off our shoulders"
-Jars of Clay
Thursday, October 27, 2011
The amount of necessary objective truths I believe in now is significantly smaller than it was when I entered college. I think though, that Earl Grey tea is best enjoyed in the afternoon- and I believe that to be objectively true.
I realize that's a terrible first line for my first post in well over a month. I hate that it's been a month; my most recent post was, of course, on the break-up of R.E.M. It was, literally, the first month of my life that they didn't exist.
That happens though, when you're younger than all of your favorite bands. Anymore, only the Red Hot Chili Peppers still make new music. It's not what it used to be, but I'd generally rather listen to their new stuff than the majority of the other things that actually get played on the hit radio stations. I'm not even opposed to pop music the way other people can be- I actually appreciate Lady Gaga quite a bit, and I can enjoy most hip-hop. But there's a poetry to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, even in The Adventures of Rain Dance Maggie, that other songs tend to lack.
Once they break up, I'll probably create a new top 5 of bands that formed post 1983. That's a random year, but it's the latest year any of the five formed (in order of formation: The Beatles (1959ish), Led Zeppelin (1968ish), R.E.M. (1980), The Smiths (1982), and the Red Hot Chili Peppers (1983). In actuality though, bands just aren't what they used to be- post-modernism saw to that. I still though, trust that the world is better for it.
I need to tell you about a book I'm reading; it's short, but it is magical. I'm not quite through- I will be soon, and I relish the opportunity to get back to it, hopefully later today. I'm learning how to write. Not like this, not simply by juxtapositioning words and creating shared shades of meaning. But how to actually live it; how to create, with words, the impression of my own soul that I've been chasing for years.
The book, you may have heard of it, is The Writing Life, by Annie Dillard. She's illuminating to me things I feel I've always known. She's drilling into my soul with a narrative that isn't narrating. I've sought, for years, the perfect narrative voice, free from artifice of plot and characterisation, driven by the goal to tell a frivolous story. I may have found it in Dillard. No word is wasted; no sentence useless. I guess, when they say opposite's attract, they're not lying.
I need to read her fiction as soon as I can; you do too, I imagine.
-Zack
"We'll never be short of redemption"
-Jars of Clay
I realize that's a terrible first line for my first post in well over a month. I hate that it's been a month; my most recent post was, of course, on the break-up of R.E.M. It was, literally, the first month of my life that they didn't exist.
That happens though, when you're younger than all of your favorite bands. Anymore, only the Red Hot Chili Peppers still make new music. It's not what it used to be, but I'd generally rather listen to their new stuff than the majority of the other things that actually get played on the hit radio stations. I'm not even opposed to pop music the way other people can be- I actually appreciate Lady Gaga quite a bit, and I can enjoy most hip-hop. But there's a poetry to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, even in The Adventures of Rain Dance Maggie, that other songs tend to lack.
Once they break up, I'll probably create a new top 5 of bands that formed post 1983. That's a random year, but it's the latest year any of the five formed (in order of formation: The Beatles (1959ish), Led Zeppelin (1968ish), R.E.M. (1980), The Smiths (1982), and the Red Hot Chili Peppers (1983). In actuality though, bands just aren't what they used to be- post-modernism saw to that. I still though, trust that the world is better for it.
I need to tell you about a book I'm reading; it's short, but it is magical. I'm not quite through- I will be soon, and I relish the opportunity to get back to it, hopefully later today. I'm learning how to write. Not like this, not simply by juxtapositioning words and creating shared shades of meaning. But how to actually live it; how to create, with words, the impression of my own soul that I've been chasing for years.
The book, you may have heard of it, is The Writing Life, by Annie Dillard. She's illuminating to me things I feel I've always known. She's drilling into my soul with a narrative that isn't narrating. I've sought, for years, the perfect narrative voice, free from artifice of plot and characterisation, driven by the goal to tell a frivolous story. I may have found it in Dillard. No word is wasted; no sentence useless. I guess, when they say opposite's attract, they're not lying.
I need to read her fiction as soon as I can; you do too, I imagine.
-Zack
"We'll never be short of redemption"
-Jars of Clay
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Collapse into Forever
2011 has been a veritable music armageddon for me. One of my top 5 bands broke up this past week, and one of my very close outliers broke up a few months back. (the top 5, in no particular order is The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Smiths, R.E.M., and The Red Hot Chili Peppers) I posted about the White Stripes when that happened. I couldn't not post about R.E.M.
I'm a little young to be a true R.E.M. fan. They formed a few years before I was even born. But that doesn't mean I haven't listened to everything they put out over and over again, entranced with their poetry and tact alongside honest expression of human experience, while, all the while, carrying the torch for progressive change despite the political apathy most music (especially in their genre) slid into after 1975.
Their final album, which I just heard straight through for the first time a few weeks ago, isn't their best. It's not even their fifth best. R.E.M. hasn't released anything as good as Monster since Monster and they haven't released a single track as good as the worst track on Automatic For the People (Monty got a Raw Deal) since Electron Blue.
But even so, Electron Blue exists.
There was, there will always be, something inspiring, critical, dangerous and seductive about R.E.M.'s music. There is a message of despondent hope, buried deep inside their overall ouvre that will forever remain unique to their sound. I'm content with the fifteen albums they released. If they only released Everybody Hurts, Losing My Religion, End of the World, and What's the Frequency Kenneth, they'd be a top 20 band in my mind with those 4 songs. But they have so much more. The One I Love is the realest, most succinct and glorious love song ever recorded, and I don't know that that will ever change.
There is a wanderer in the R.E.M. listener. Something longing, yearning, pining for a deeper, more honest, more useful existence. There is hope and tranquility, but it is otherwordly.
It does sadden my spirit, to know that Collapse into Now, a mostly boring album will be the last thing they ever release. But on the other side of that, I am thankful for all R.E.M. was and will be in me, for me, forever.
Soak into this video, let it soak into you, and ponder when, if ever, a band like this will come again:
Someday, perhaps, we'll all find our river.
-Zack
"3 and a half minutes felt like a lifetime"
-Better than Ezra
I'm a little young to be a true R.E.M. fan. They formed a few years before I was even born. But that doesn't mean I haven't listened to everything they put out over and over again, entranced with their poetry and tact alongside honest expression of human experience, while, all the while, carrying the torch for progressive change despite the political apathy most music (especially in their genre) slid into after 1975.
Their final album, which I just heard straight through for the first time a few weeks ago, isn't their best. It's not even their fifth best. R.E.M. hasn't released anything as good as Monster since Monster and they haven't released a single track as good as the worst track on Automatic For the People (Monty got a Raw Deal) since Electron Blue.
But even so, Electron Blue exists.
There was, there will always be, something inspiring, critical, dangerous and seductive about R.E.M.'s music. There is a message of despondent hope, buried deep inside their overall ouvre that will forever remain unique to their sound. I'm content with the fifteen albums they released. If they only released Everybody Hurts, Losing My Religion, End of the World, and What's the Frequency Kenneth, they'd be a top 20 band in my mind with those 4 songs. But they have so much more. The One I Love is the realest, most succinct and glorious love song ever recorded, and I don't know that that will ever change.
There is a wanderer in the R.E.M. listener. Something longing, yearning, pining for a deeper, more honest, more useful existence. There is hope and tranquility, but it is otherwordly.
It does sadden my spirit, to know that Collapse into Now, a mostly boring album will be the last thing they ever release. But on the other side of that, I am thankful for all R.E.M. was and will be in me, for me, forever.
Soak into this video, let it soak into you, and ponder when, if ever, a band like this will come again:
Someday, perhaps, we'll all find our river.
-Zack
"3 and a half minutes felt like a lifetime"
-Better than Ezra
Eating (in) Cleveland: Noodlecat
This past Tuesday, before the mid-point of 3 baseball games in 1 week (two in Cleveland, one in Cincinnati), my dad and I tried out one of Cleveland's newest Asian restaurants: Noodlecat.
Noodlecat, as I saw it, had amazing potential. It also has an outstanding location, in between Tower City and E. 4th. As a lover of the noodle bowls I had while in China, I had been anxiously looking forward to my first meal at Noodlecat. Unfortunately, it was an overall disappointing experience.
First, I've got to point out one thing: when it comes to food (especially Asian food, but all food in general), I prefer traditional Chinese styles, seasonings, and methods above all else. The complexities of the flavors within a deceptively simple set of dishes equals, for me, the perfect canvas for cuisine. Thai, Japanese, and Korean food are all similar, with different spices and a few different techniques, but if all of east-Asian food were a pizza, Chinese would be the crust.
Noodlecat, from the beginning, was a disappointment because it's not a Chinese noodle restaurant. It's primary focus is Japanese-california fusion, with some "traditional" dishes mixed in, all of them Japanese. I don't mind Japanese food, and indeed, I love sushi. But I will take a traditional Chinese noodle bowl with wheat noodles, carrots, onions, and chili paste over a fish-based Japanese soba noodle dish any and every day of the week. That's just the honest truth about my preferences. Soba noodles are chewy, stiff, and card-boardy all at once and completely unappealing in appearance. Unfortunately, Noodlecat only serves dishes with soba noodles.
It's also overpriced. I realize that it's "unique" and "Japanese" so you can charge whatever you want in that part of cleveland, but a little bit of nori, some onion and sprouts tempura, and a bowl full of fish sauce and soba noodles just isn't worth 14 dollars, even if that's not too far off how much it costs to make (which it isn't; not even if you buy every ingredient at Giant Eagle). There may have been more than that in my dish but it didn't taste like it. That's really my biggest complaint with noodle cat: it was a bowl of salt and soba noodles, with a soggy piece of "vegetable tempura" (which lacked any identifiable vegetables beyond the sprouts and onion) that was practically impossible to eat with chopsticks thanks to the now-turned-to-rubber breading.
So, I didn't like my dish much. My dad claimed to like his, but it looked to be about the same, with some different things going on. It claimed to be "surf and turf" but I think it just had clams and crab, so I don't know what the turf part of that was supposed to be.
I understand that Japanese food is a lot "fishier" than most. I also believe though, that, properly prepared, there isn't a type of food most people won't enjoy. Tempura, for instance, must be light and crispy. If it isn't, it's ruined. Granted, mine was served atop a noodle soup. I understand that, but if the food is ruined by its presentation change the presentation..
That's the bulk of my opinion on Noodlecat. I was also put off by their lack of any typical soft drinks. I understand the desire to go local/organic, but there's also a full bar in the restaurant. Concievably, you can't actually order whatever drink you'd like, because they don't carry things like Dr. Pepper and Sprite. No matter how good the organic cola is, nothing goes with spiced rum like regular Coca Cola. Ironically, this also made the experience markedly inauthentic: you can't go anywhere in Asia without the ability to order a Coke or Pepsi.
All of this was topped off by a waitress that basically treated us like idiots for trying to order regular pop and like second-class customers for not ordering an appetizer. Sorry, irritated waitress, for not knowing what's on the menu at a brand new restaurant, and for not having time before a baseball game to have a full meal.
No, I wasn't altogether pleased with Noodlecat. The food was filling enough, though I would have preferred the Jimmy John's next door, for half the price and ten times the quality.
-Zack
Noodlecat, as I saw it, had amazing potential. It also has an outstanding location, in between Tower City and E. 4th. As a lover of the noodle bowls I had while in China, I had been anxiously looking forward to my first meal at Noodlecat. Unfortunately, it was an overall disappointing experience.
First, I've got to point out one thing: when it comes to food (especially Asian food, but all food in general), I prefer traditional Chinese styles, seasonings, and methods above all else. The complexities of the flavors within a deceptively simple set of dishes equals, for me, the perfect canvas for cuisine. Thai, Japanese, and Korean food are all similar, with different spices and a few different techniques, but if all of east-Asian food were a pizza, Chinese would be the crust.
Noodlecat, from the beginning, was a disappointment because it's not a Chinese noodle restaurant. It's primary focus is Japanese-california fusion, with some "traditional" dishes mixed in, all of them Japanese. I don't mind Japanese food, and indeed, I love sushi. But I will take a traditional Chinese noodle bowl with wheat noodles, carrots, onions, and chili paste over a fish-based Japanese soba noodle dish any and every day of the week. That's just the honest truth about my preferences. Soba noodles are chewy, stiff, and card-boardy all at once and completely unappealing in appearance. Unfortunately, Noodlecat only serves dishes with soba noodles.
It's also overpriced. I realize that it's "unique" and "Japanese" so you can charge whatever you want in that part of cleveland, but a little bit of nori, some onion and sprouts tempura, and a bowl full of fish sauce and soba noodles just isn't worth 14 dollars, even if that's not too far off how much it costs to make (which it isn't; not even if you buy every ingredient at Giant Eagle). There may have been more than that in my dish but it didn't taste like it. That's really my biggest complaint with noodle cat: it was a bowl of salt and soba noodles, with a soggy piece of "vegetable tempura" (which lacked any identifiable vegetables beyond the sprouts and onion) that was practically impossible to eat with chopsticks thanks to the now-turned-to-rubber breading.
So, I didn't like my dish much. My dad claimed to like his, but it looked to be about the same, with some different things going on. It claimed to be "surf and turf" but I think it just had clams and crab, so I don't know what the turf part of that was supposed to be.
I understand that Japanese food is a lot "fishier" than most. I also believe though, that, properly prepared, there isn't a type of food most people won't enjoy. Tempura, for instance, must be light and crispy. If it isn't, it's ruined. Granted, mine was served atop a noodle soup. I understand that, but if the food is ruined by its presentation change the presentation..
That's the bulk of my opinion on Noodlecat. I was also put off by their lack of any typical soft drinks. I understand the desire to go local/organic, but there's also a full bar in the restaurant. Concievably, you can't actually order whatever drink you'd like, because they don't carry things like Dr. Pepper and Sprite. No matter how good the organic cola is, nothing goes with spiced rum like regular Coca Cola. Ironically, this also made the experience markedly inauthentic: you can't go anywhere in Asia without the ability to order a Coke or Pepsi.
All of this was topped off by a waitress that basically treated us like idiots for trying to order regular pop and like second-class customers for not ordering an appetizer. Sorry, irritated waitress, for not knowing what's on the menu at a brand new restaurant, and for not having time before a baseball game to have a full meal.
No, I wasn't altogether pleased with Noodlecat. The food was filling enough, though I would have preferred the Jimmy John's next door, for half the price and ten times the quality.
-Zack
Friday, September 16, 2011
Over and again
There are so many things I could say, so many things about which I could write, right now. It's been quite some time since I've posted anything. I've ate at a few new places, I've finished a couple books. I would really like to write about one of them..."Me, Myself, and Bob" by Phil Vischer. It's about the rise and fall of Veggie Tales, but more than that, I think it's about anyone and everyone who has ever attempted anything of any significance.
But right now, I don't think I can, I don't think I quite want to write about that yet.
I've been pondering, for a long time, a post about hip-hop and how I see its place in the world. But it doesn't quite feel ready yet- not for me to write, and not to face the world.
And yet...I've got to write about something. Just..something. Because I've got to write something.
Redundancy.
We're within 64 days of the wedding now. I should have more to say about that...I wrote so much about going away to college. I wrote so much about leaving Wooster.
But I have no idea what to say about getting married. I think, perhaps, it really is that unknown, or at least that indescribable, at least for me. It's exciting, but in ways I'm not sure I would have ever expected. All of what I would expect is there: the excitement to be joined, forever, with the person I love most; the person I believe, above all others, God ordained from the beginning of either of our lives, for each of us to be with for the remainder of our adult lives. I am excited that the reality that has always been will be realized and made public on my birthday this year. At times in my life, I've famously anticipated birthdays. But this one will always take the cake as the best, most important, most memorable. If one deserves the best possible day on their birthday, I can't imagine a scenario where I won't get to have that for the rest of my life. For that, I am thankful and excited.
But the bulk of the excitement comes from a different source from all the giddiness, even from all the relief that planning and spending on this whole thing will be over. It comes from a deep, placid, consuming desire and assurance that we, on the other side of everything, can, hand in hand, look out upon whatever the world is every day from November 20th forward, and know, whatever comes, we can, we will, face it together.
There will be and have been bumps and bruises along the way to wherever it is we're heading- but there is no shearing of the bond.
If you ask me today, how I know Alexandra is the one for me, the best, most honest answer I can give is this: it feels as if our wedding, though full of ceremony and celebration it will be, is, ultimately, nothing more than a making public of a reality that has been and will always be.
I love Alexandra; I love her so incredibly much. No matter what I say, no matter how hard I think, I can't come up with a list of reasons that trumps one single, solitary, deep and unyielding truth: I love her because every part of my being is convinced that no one else in all the world belongs by my side, nor I by her or his, even .008 percent as Alexandra and I are to be, joined together by God, for God, and for the good of Cleveland, Ohio, The United States, and the world.
-Zack
"The crown of thorns was worn, we put the tritons down
We found new forms of anchors, deep inside the ground"
-Flobots
But right now, I don't think I can, I don't think I quite want to write about that yet.
I've been pondering, for a long time, a post about hip-hop and how I see its place in the world. But it doesn't quite feel ready yet- not for me to write, and not to face the world.
And yet...I've got to write about something. Just..something. Because I've got to write something.
Redundancy.
We're within 64 days of the wedding now. I should have more to say about that...I wrote so much about going away to college. I wrote so much about leaving Wooster.
But I have no idea what to say about getting married. I think, perhaps, it really is that unknown, or at least that indescribable, at least for me. It's exciting, but in ways I'm not sure I would have ever expected. All of what I would expect is there: the excitement to be joined, forever, with the person I love most; the person I believe, above all others, God ordained from the beginning of either of our lives, for each of us to be with for the remainder of our adult lives. I am excited that the reality that has always been will be realized and made public on my birthday this year. At times in my life, I've famously anticipated birthdays. But this one will always take the cake as the best, most important, most memorable. If one deserves the best possible day on their birthday, I can't imagine a scenario where I won't get to have that for the rest of my life. For that, I am thankful and excited.
But the bulk of the excitement comes from a different source from all the giddiness, even from all the relief that planning and spending on this whole thing will be over. It comes from a deep, placid, consuming desire and assurance that we, on the other side of everything, can, hand in hand, look out upon whatever the world is every day from November 20th forward, and know, whatever comes, we can, we will, face it together.
There will be and have been bumps and bruises along the way to wherever it is we're heading- but there is no shearing of the bond.
If you ask me today, how I know Alexandra is the one for me, the best, most honest answer I can give is this: it feels as if our wedding, though full of ceremony and celebration it will be, is, ultimately, nothing more than a making public of a reality that has been and will always be.
I love Alexandra; I love her so incredibly much. No matter what I say, no matter how hard I think, I can't come up with a list of reasons that trumps one single, solitary, deep and unyielding truth: I love her because every part of my being is convinced that no one else in all the world belongs by my side, nor I by her or his, even .008 percent as Alexandra and I are to be, joined together by God, for God, and for the good of Cleveland, Ohio, The United States, and the world.
-Zack
"The crown of thorns was worn, we put the tritons down
We found new forms of anchors, deep inside the ground"
-Flobots
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Eating (in) Cleveland #4: India Garden
Thanks to a-nothing-else-to-do viewing of the Cooking Channel's Spice Goddess (http://www.cookingchanneltv.com/spice-goddess/index.html) Saturday morning, Sunday became "Indian Food Night." Indian food holds and will hold a special place for Alexandra and I, as it was the food that brought us together (although, really, it wasn't the food at all, in and of itself). It had been a long time- too long- since we'd had anything Indian, and having absolutely no idea how to cook Indian food ourselves (lack of ingredients, time, and mastery overtaking the tips we saw on t.v.), we had to find a restaurant to satisfy our shared craving.
A shot in the dark on a google search later, and we ended up at India Garden on the west-end of Lakewood.
At first glance, it looks inconsequential-really, the building is little more than a two bedroom house converted into a restaurant. If there weren't a sign out front (in painfully orientalizing type-face at that), it wouldn't look like a restaurant at all. Even upon entering, the place is less than wholly outstanding in decor. It's dark in an almost-but-not-quite elegant sort of way, with few real decorations around, save for a few Indian scarves draped around the entrance. I'm actually amazed at the seating they cram into the small space. It was nearly 8 p.m. by the time we got there, so I imagine any dinner crowd had thinned, so it wasn't cramped, but I could envision a pretty tight dining room if enough diners were present; especially for their advertised lunch buffets. From the looks of the place, I wasn't sure what to expect. It didn't look like anything special, but experience has generally shown international food to be at its best when the restaurant looks to be at its worst. India Garden, in that respect, did not disappoint.
It was probably the best food I've had at an Indian restaurant, and I don't say that easily- I've thoroughly enjoyed most of the food I've had at any Indian restaurant. It probably wasn't as spicy as I generally like, but it wasn't bland. That's actually pretty high praise-without proper spice, food that's supposed to be spicy comes off quite bland most of the time. Perhaps this means India Garden has found a way to cater to the weaker American palette without sacrificing flavor. I ordered something called Chicken Jalfrieze. I don't really know what that means, but it was a tomato based curry with onions and cream. The pop of the coriander seeds within the sauce was perfect- not overpowering the total dish, but complimenting the overall bite. We only ordered regular naan, but it was excellent- wonderfully crispy outside giving way to the right sort of pillowy chewiness inside. For an appetizer, we ordered vegetable pakora. Pakora often means something like American onion rings, but with other sorts of vegetables. These, however, were a sort of vegetable mixture, ground up and fried as a sort of Indian hush puppy. I don't know enough about Indian cuisine to know if this is a variation common in parts of India or unique, but I enjoyed it because it complexified a generally simple dish. Instead of a stringent onion or pepper on its own, the pakoras featured flavors of onion, spinach, squash, and chickpeas all wrapped into one bite. With the addition of the green chili chutney, it was a splendid appetizer.
Aside from the delicious food itself, I must say something about the service: in addition to excellent and timely, the hostess and (multiple) waiters who served us Sunday night seemed to actually care about us as more than a table of customers. The hostess asked how our day had gone and told us, frankly, about her weekend and how she enjoyed spending the day with her daughter before coming in that afternoon. It's that sort of touch that makes me want to go back more than perhaps anything else. I can probably find more great Indian food in Cleveland. I imagine I can find better Indian food in fact. But most restaurants aren't going to provide the service and personality by way of their personnel.
In the end, I'm glad we chose where we chose, at random. I'm sure we'll try other places and some of them Indian, but I'm completely unconvinced we'll become regular patrons at any other Indian restaurant in Cleveland.
-Zack
A shot in the dark on a google search later, and we ended up at India Garden on the west-end of Lakewood.
At first glance, it looks inconsequential-really, the building is little more than a two bedroom house converted into a restaurant. If there weren't a sign out front (in painfully orientalizing type-face at that), it wouldn't look like a restaurant at all. Even upon entering, the place is less than wholly outstanding in decor. It's dark in an almost-but-not-quite elegant sort of way, with few real decorations around, save for a few Indian scarves draped around the entrance. I'm actually amazed at the seating they cram into the small space. It was nearly 8 p.m. by the time we got there, so I imagine any dinner crowd had thinned, so it wasn't cramped, but I could envision a pretty tight dining room if enough diners were present; especially for their advertised lunch buffets. From the looks of the place, I wasn't sure what to expect. It didn't look like anything special, but experience has generally shown international food to be at its best when the restaurant looks to be at its worst. India Garden, in that respect, did not disappoint.
It was probably the best food I've had at an Indian restaurant, and I don't say that easily- I've thoroughly enjoyed most of the food I've had at any Indian restaurant. It probably wasn't as spicy as I generally like, but it wasn't bland. That's actually pretty high praise-without proper spice, food that's supposed to be spicy comes off quite bland most of the time. Perhaps this means India Garden has found a way to cater to the weaker American palette without sacrificing flavor. I ordered something called Chicken Jalfrieze. I don't really know what that means, but it was a tomato based curry with onions and cream. The pop of the coriander seeds within the sauce was perfect- not overpowering the total dish, but complimenting the overall bite. We only ordered regular naan, but it was excellent- wonderfully crispy outside giving way to the right sort of pillowy chewiness inside. For an appetizer, we ordered vegetable pakora. Pakora often means something like American onion rings, but with other sorts of vegetables. These, however, were a sort of vegetable mixture, ground up and fried as a sort of Indian hush puppy. I don't know enough about Indian cuisine to know if this is a variation common in parts of India or unique, but I enjoyed it because it complexified a generally simple dish. Instead of a stringent onion or pepper on its own, the pakoras featured flavors of onion, spinach, squash, and chickpeas all wrapped into one bite. With the addition of the green chili chutney, it was a splendid appetizer.
Aside from the delicious food itself, I must say something about the service: in addition to excellent and timely, the hostess and (multiple) waiters who served us Sunday night seemed to actually care about us as more than a table of customers. The hostess asked how our day had gone and told us, frankly, about her weekend and how she enjoyed spending the day with her daughter before coming in that afternoon. It's that sort of touch that makes me want to go back more than perhaps anything else. I can probably find more great Indian food in Cleveland. I imagine I can find better Indian food in fact. But most restaurants aren't going to provide the service and personality by way of their personnel.
In the end, I'm glad we chose where we chose, at random. I'm sure we'll try other places and some of them Indian, but I'm completely unconvinced we'll become regular patrons at any other Indian restaurant in Cleveland.
-Zack
Monday, August 29, 2011
Definition
This was definitely not how today was supposed to go, not by a mile. All weekend long, I'd been getting myself pumped up for today; telling myself things like "your entire career could be defined by how Monday goes." That's somewhat pressuring, but it also helped me get excited. Today, you see, is the first day of classes at Cleveland State University. It was also supposed to mark the birth of InterVarsity's newest multi-ethnic ministry in Cleveland.
That didn't happen though, because, right now, I'm sitting in the surgical waiting room at Lakewood Hospital (a Cleveland Clinic hospital, by the way) while my fiancee loses her appendix.
No, this certainly wasn't today was supposed to go.
But this is how today went. My thoughts, my prayers, my heart are with her, in that operating room. But she just gets to sleep through it all. I'm not worried. I had my appendix removed when I was 3, and I lived and turned out alright (at least as appendices go....how I turned out otherwise is up to someone quite unlike the appendix removal surgeon). But I do hate to know the pain she's gone through these past 20 hours. I do hate to know that there's nothing I can do to take it away. Suddenly, even planting a potentially city-and world-shaking community pales a little bit....and I think that's because ultimately, I'm just a guy, and as much as I love my job and can't wait for the school year, I'm just a guy and I'm less the guy I'm supposed to be without the person I'm supposed to be with, in some mystical way.
Things can be rescheduled. Wednesday is now today, basically. If the chapter is toast for the year because we missed today, then the chapter was going to fail all along anyway. God's much bigger than an inflamed appendix and he won't let what he's called me to do in Cleveland fall apart so easily.
I think, perhaps, though it's but a two day swing, I wasn't quite ready for today. I felt ready. I had printed all of the flyers. I had made tea and bubbles, and bought milk, a blender, and ice cream. I was ready. But for whatever reason, I wasn't prepared. I hope to be by Wednesday, but that's at least in part in the Lord's hands.
I have, however, been so touched, in a way that I know will give my strength, by the facebook comments that have come in since I mentioned the situation in my status. Each in their own way, people I love, friends, ministry partners, students have commented and reminded me that though I may be embarking on my first sole-staffing campus, I'm far from alone. I always knew that...but today, God has let me feel it.
I don't think that's why Alexandra's appendix flared up today. But I do know it's an outcome God is bringing to fruition. In the midst of all that is happening (atop all that isn't), he's reminding me that he's in control, over top of, and pulling together all that will be InterVarsity at CSU, my impending marriage, and the rest of my life.
Perhaps today, in the measurable sense, didn't define my career. But perhaps, in the less tangible, but altogether more meaningful way, it is redefining how I believe in who I am.
I'm still sitting in this waiting room. I'm still waiting. For today, that's exactly what God had in mind.
-Zack
"What matters to them doesn't change anything"
-Imogen Heap
That didn't happen though, because, right now, I'm sitting in the surgical waiting room at Lakewood Hospital (a Cleveland Clinic hospital, by the way) while my fiancee loses her appendix.
No, this certainly wasn't today was supposed to go.
But this is how today went. My thoughts, my prayers, my heart are with her, in that operating room. But she just gets to sleep through it all. I'm not worried. I had my appendix removed when I was 3, and I lived and turned out alright (at least as appendices go....how I turned out otherwise is up to someone quite unlike the appendix removal surgeon). But I do hate to know the pain she's gone through these past 20 hours. I do hate to know that there's nothing I can do to take it away. Suddenly, even planting a potentially city-and world-shaking community pales a little bit....and I think that's because ultimately, I'm just a guy, and as much as I love my job and can't wait for the school year, I'm just a guy and I'm less the guy I'm supposed to be without the person I'm supposed to be with, in some mystical way.
Things can be rescheduled. Wednesday is now today, basically. If the chapter is toast for the year because we missed today, then the chapter was going to fail all along anyway. God's much bigger than an inflamed appendix and he won't let what he's called me to do in Cleveland fall apart so easily.
I think, perhaps, though it's but a two day swing, I wasn't quite ready for today. I felt ready. I had printed all of the flyers. I had made tea and bubbles, and bought milk, a blender, and ice cream. I was ready. But for whatever reason, I wasn't prepared. I hope to be by Wednesday, but that's at least in part in the Lord's hands.
I have, however, been so touched, in a way that I know will give my strength, by the facebook comments that have come in since I mentioned the situation in my status. Each in their own way, people I love, friends, ministry partners, students have commented and reminded me that though I may be embarking on my first sole-staffing campus, I'm far from alone. I always knew that...but today, God has let me feel it.
I don't think that's why Alexandra's appendix flared up today. But I do know it's an outcome God is bringing to fruition. In the midst of all that is happening (atop all that isn't), he's reminding me that he's in control, over top of, and pulling together all that will be InterVarsity at CSU, my impending marriage, and the rest of my life.
Perhaps today, in the measurable sense, didn't define my career. But perhaps, in the less tangible, but altogether more meaningful way, it is redefining how I believe in who I am.
I'm still sitting in this waiting room. I'm still waiting. For today, that's exactly what God had in mind.
-Zack
"What matters to them doesn't change anything"
-Imogen Heap
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Eating (in) Cleveland #3:The Corned Beef Place across from Tower City
I, in my lack of research that cost me an honors grade on my I.S., didn't realize that "Eating Cleveland" is trademarked by a real website. While I don't foresee that ever actually mattering, I'm officially sliding a parenthetical "in" into the title of these posts because I don't want google to confuse anyone.
Last Friday night, en route to the RTA station beneath Tower City, we were on the prowl. Failing to find a satisfying appetizer while out about time (which was more an effect of our cheapness than our ability), and on the way home, the urgency to find something to eat before we got back to the train was pressing from all sides. As you can tell from the title of this post, it wasn't until the very end of our journey that we actually decided on something.
I have no idea, actually, what the name of the place from which we got food actually is. I didn't catch it, and I'm not sure, if they have one, it's very well presented. The outside just advertises warm corned beef sandwiches, and that's what took us into the shop. It's basically a convenience store that operates a fairly diverse deli. With places like that, there are essentially two options: frozen food heated up and cheaply served for a maximized profit to the store, or something truly legit where expense isn't wasted on the surroundings for the sake of offering good food at minimum pricing. This nameless place (seriously, if you know what's it's called, let me know) is most certainly a member of the latter camp.
The menu featured everything from Gyro's to basically any combination of deli meats you could dream up, but as advertised, the warm corned beef with mustard is appropriately the number one seller, and I doubt I'll ever buy anything else if I ever get a chance to stop in again. I always try to get the "specialty" when I visit a new place, and especially a place that's wholly local in ownership. There might be better corned beef sandwiches in cleveland, but I am positive that they are transcendent, because the one I had late Friday night was flavorful, tender, and positively scrumptious. Though it was simple; just corned beef between rye with mustard, it was legendary. The amicable cook who freely conversed with the customers while preparing the food put at least 4 inches of meat between the bread. If this sandwich were a standard sandwich, Americans would eat 10x more cows per year, I think. It was terrific. My friend, who ordered the same thing, complained of a "dry" sandwich, but I think he ordered his without mustard. Maybe that's a bad sign, that the sandwich needs mustard to remain moist given the amount of meat. I'm not sure. Either way, I know mine was delicious. It's probably unhealthy, to eat so much meat in one sitting. I may have taken days off my life on Friday, so I doubt I'll frequent this unnamed establishment. But on the rare late night when I'm downtown, I can't imagine a better end to the night than a warm corned beef and mustard sandwich on the way back to the train.
-Zack
Last Friday night, en route to the RTA station beneath Tower City, we were on the prowl. Failing to find a satisfying appetizer while out about time (which was more an effect of our cheapness than our ability), and on the way home, the urgency to find something to eat before we got back to the train was pressing from all sides. As you can tell from the title of this post, it wasn't until the very end of our journey that we actually decided on something.
I have no idea, actually, what the name of the place from which we got food actually is. I didn't catch it, and I'm not sure, if they have one, it's very well presented. The outside just advertises warm corned beef sandwiches, and that's what took us into the shop. It's basically a convenience store that operates a fairly diverse deli. With places like that, there are essentially two options: frozen food heated up and cheaply served for a maximized profit to the store, or something truly legit where expense isn't wasted on the surroundings for the sake of offering good food at minimum pricing. This nameless place (seriously, if you know what's it's called, let me know) is most certainly a member of the latter camp.
The menu featured everything from Gyro's to basically any combination of deli meats you could dream up, but as advertised, the warm corned beef with mustard is appropriately the number one seller, and I doubt I'll ever buy anything else if I ever get a chance to stop in again. I always try to get the "specialty" when I visit a new place, and especially a place that's wholly local in ownership. There might be better corned beef sandwiches in cleveland, but I am positive that they are transcendent, because the one I had late Friday night was flavorful, tender, and positively scrumptious. Though it was simple; just corned beef between rye with mustard, it was legendary. The amicable cook who freely conversed with the customers while preparing the food put at least 4 inches of meat between the bread. If this sandwich were a standard sandwich, Americans would eat 10x more cows per year, I think. It was terrific. My friend, who ordered the same thing, complained of a "dry" sandwich, but I think he ordered his without mustard. Maybe that's a bad sign, that the sandwich needs mustard to remain moist given the amount of meat. I'm not sure. Either way, I know mine was delicious. It's probably unhealthy, to eat so much meat in one sitting. I may have taken days off my life on Friday, so I doubt I'll frequent this unnamed establishment. But on the rare late night when I'm downtown, I can't imagine a better end to the night than a warm corned beef and mustard sandwich on the way back to the train.
-Zack
Monday, August 22, 2011
Merely Players
Because it has to go back to the library today, I finished the final book of Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games trilogy yesterday. Mockingjay, itself, was probably my second favorite of the three (though it was probably the best of the three...it just didn't have the mystique of the first).
I won't write specifically about the third book and I will try my best not to spoil any plot points. It's not well-written enough to keep you going if you know the end.
The first book is currently in the process of film interpretation and will be coming to a theater near you sometime next summer. I'm looking forward to that and I'll probably go see it, but I already don't expect a great movie. The trilogy's biggest strength is the narrator's voice and no first person narrator has ever been captured well on film because the camera is the narrator, no matter the voiceover, and the limits of a character's perspective are never captured on film. I'm interested though, in what will be captured.
I'm not, however, just going to talk about a movie that isn't out. There is so much I could say about the trilogy but I'm not sure where to start. It was, at times, hard to get through because parts of it are predictable, parts of it are excrutiatingly simplistic and unimaginitive from a prose standpoint.
But parts of it are breathtaking and I couldn't have been more satisfied with the last 10 pages. The first 900 of the series are somehow worth it (though let me say that, no matter how it may sound, many of those really aren't so bad).
As a concept, it's a top 10 of the last 5 years. Basically, if you don't know much about it, something happened and most of the United States was turned into a series of 13 districts and one capital (aproximately Denver). At some point prior to the start of the first book (roughly 75 years and change), the districts revolted and lost to the capital. That's a little far fetched probably, but it "happened." As "punishment" the districts have to provide 2 children each year to fight to the death in the Hunger Games to prove that the capital is so far reaching even the children aren't safe. Amazingly, I'm actually not simplifying the motives in any of that, but it's not as "contrived in a 6 year old's mind" as it sounds, though it often dips into that. This is no measuredly sketched picture of human depravity ala The Lord of the Flies, and yet Collins is a better story teller than Golding. She's probably the worst writer I've devoted this much time to in probably my entire life, but she tells a compelling story. That's why I want to see the movie. Because a troupe of Hollywood talent can't make it feel as flat as Collins. Maybe I have too much faith in Hollywood. But, if you pick up a copy of the Catching Fire and read any single page out of context and flow, you'll blush at the forced dialogue, I promise.
As I said though, it is a good story, and I do indeed urge you to take the plunge. Once you cut past the badly pasted artifice of prose, you'll find a jewel of human heart, right near the end of the final book, that you can and should carry with you for the rest of your life. The trilogy shouldn't be a trilogy. It should be one book because the second book could be condensed to 25 pages. The market doesn't work that way and the demographic couldn't tolerate it, so I understand. But, in better hands, this story could be the best rebut to War and Peace I've ever read. That doesn't mean much to most of the world because most people haven't read War and Peace (including, I imagine, Suzanne Collins), but it's essentially the same story in a different setting, with a very different result. Somehow, Collins created a poorly written trilogy that fits inside the thrust of literary history in ways few novels actually do anymore (especially YA literature).
I was ultimately disappointed in the trilogy, but I couldn't be happier with the story and most especially the ending. If all truly is well that ends well, then the The Hunger Games knows few peers among contemporary novels. Because I don't believe in pithy, untested phrases, I don't believe that. But it is worthwhile, and that's something most readers need to know in a world where so few make the time it takes to really read anymore.
-Zack
I won't write specifically about the third book and I will try my best not to spoil any plot points. It's not well-written enough to keep you going if you know the end.
The first book is currently in the process of film interpretation and will be coming to a theater near you sometime next summer. I'm looking forward to that and I'll probably go see it, but I already don't expect a great movie. The trilogy's biggest strength is the narrator's voice and no first person narrator has ever been captured well on film because the camera is the narrator, no matter the voiceover, and the limits of a character's perspective are never captured on film. I'm interested though, in what will be captured.
I'm not, however, just going to talk about a movie that isn't out. There is so much I could say about the trilogy but I'm not sure where to start. It was, at times, hard to get through because parts of it are predictable, parts of it are excrutiatingly simplistic and unimaginitive from a prose standpoint.
But parts of it are breathtaking and I couldn't have been more satisfied with the last 10 pages. The first 900 of the series are somehow worth it (though let me say that, no matter how it may sound, many of those really aren't so bad).
As a concept, it's a top 10 of the last 5 years. Basically, if you don't know much about it, something happened and most of the United States was turned into a series of 13 districts and one capital (aproximately Denver). At some point prior to the start of the first book (roughly 75 years and change), the districts revolted and lost to the capital. That's a little far fetched probably, but it "happened." As "punishment" the districts have to provide 2 children each year to fight to the death in the Hunger Games to prove that the capital is so far reaching even the children aren't safe. Amazingly, I'm actually not simplifying the motives in any of that, but it's not as "contrived in a 6 year old's mind" as it sounds, though it often dips into that. This is no measuredly sketched picture of human depravity ala The Lord of the Flies, and yet Collins is a better story teller than Golding. She's probably the worst writer I've devoted this much time to in probably my entire life, but she tells a compelling story. That's why I want to see the movie. Because a troupe of Hollywood talent can't make it feel as flat as Collins. Maybe I have too much faith in Hollywood. But, if you pick up a copy of the Catching Fire and read any single page out of context and flow, you'll blush at the forced dialogue, I promise.
As I said though, it is a good story, and I do indeed urge you to take the plunge. Once you cut past the badly pasted artifice of prose, you'll find a jewel of human heart, right near the end of the final book, that you can and should carry with you for the rest of your life. The trilogy shouldn't be a trilogy. It should be one book because the second book could be condensed to 25 pages. The market doesn't work that way and the demographic couldn't tolerate it, so I understand. But, in better hands, this story could be the best rebut to War and Peace I've ever read. That doesn't mean much to most of the world because most people haven't read War and Peace (including, I imagine, Suzanne Collins), but it's essentially the same story in a different setting, with a very different result. Somehow, Collins created a poorly written trilogy that fits inside the thrust of literary history in ways few novels actually do anymore (especially YA literature).
I was ultimately disappointed in the trilogy, but I couldn't be happier with the story and most especially the ending. If all truly is well that ends well, then the The Hunger Games knows few peers among contemporary novels. Because I don't believe in pithy, untested phrases, I don't believe that. But it is worthwhile, and that's something most readers need to know in a world where so few make the time it takes to really read anymore.
-Zack
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
No Shelter
We're reading "Radical" by David Platt this summer, in the Northeast Ohio area for InterVarsity. In a simple sentence, it is sorely disappointing. Until this morning, my opinion had swung back and forth while I was reading it (and I'm still not finished); unsure if I loved what it had to say in sum or disagreed in most ways. In other words, I couldn't tell if the good outweighed the bad, but now I can, and I am sorely disappointed that it's a best-seller and people are reading it, agreeing with it, and considering themselves radical for doing so.
I don't know how many times I can read about how big his church is and how many millions of dollars the building is worth and believe that I'm supposed to take his word on how to be a 100% disciple. He talks much about blindspots, one major being American Christianity's overlooking of poverty. To that, I say "here here good sir," but I must have missed the part of what Jesus said that includes it being okay to spend millions on a church building in the first place. I also missed the part that said church buildings are an inherent part of ministry...but I digress.
David Platt mostly, isn't the enemy. Really, Christians, generally speaking, shouldn't be considered "the enemy". There is only one enemy, and he doesn't have a body. My real grievances with the book are two-fold: it doesn't go far enough and it's constantly putting on the brakes when it comes to the words everything and everyone, and a wholesale purchase of the exigetical tragedy that is the belief that all of everything that ever happened is due to God wanting more glory. I understand that the man was born blind for God's glory to be shown...by Jesus, healing him. I won't believe that Hitler rose to power for God's glory though, no matter what "good" has come of it. I won't believe that evil takes place for God's glory. Because it doesn't. God didn't allow Adam and Eve to sin because he'd be more glorified for it. Okay, that's a bold statement with which many won't take my side. It's just too clean, too easy, too blindly-overlooking-the-rest-of-the-Bible to take a few statements here and there and craft not just a sterile theology but a lifestyle, even one to mostly good ends. It's God's will that none should perish, but, if you're to believe Platt and those like him, it apparently maximizes his glory if not just some but most do indeed perish, so what must be done must be done. That, of course, begs the questions: why then? Why do bad things happen if not so God can be glorified through them? Because God loves us enough to let us decide and, in doing so, we decide to hurt each other. He also loves us enough that he's provided a way for the evil we perpetuate to be forgiven and for us to be with anyway.
It's not that I don't want to ascribe glory to God. But I think we overlook what that really means. Let's jump into Foucalt for a little bit and hopefully you'll know what I mean. Actually, let's not. Let's jump to my neighborhood, the corner of West 85th and Willlard, Cleveland, Ohio. I walk, by myself or with Alexandra, our little Havapoo (Havanese-poodle mix...don't ask me..I'm a Jack Russel man...it's her dog), around our neighborhood every single night. She's a crazy little mutt, but we love her and I'm glad to have her around most of the time. Hazlenut is far from the only dog in our neighborhood though. She is though, one of the smallest. For some reason (actually, I probably know it more than I'll go into here), the majority of the dogs in our neighborhood are pitbulls. That might sound scary. I'll be honest, it kind of is. To see a dog that weighs as much as I do pulling its owner along on a very thick chain, trying to get to Hazlenut, presumably to devour our little fluff ball, is less than pleasant. Pitbulls are the most illogical dog to own. They cost more in insurance if you can even get insurance with them at your house. They might be profitable, but I don't think most of them in our neighborhood are used for fighting. In addition to the pitbulls, there aren't, percentage-wise, and average number of single family homes in our neighborhood, and I would venture to guess most of the single family houses aren't owned by the tenants.
I can't speak for many individual stories. I don't know many people by name in our neighborhood right now. The picture I'm trying to paint though, is of powerful, quite frankly, dangerous dogs kept in homes that aren't owned by those who live there. Beyond being something of an insurance nightmare, there's something deeper going on, or at least there's a metaphor within it. A pitbull may be an irrational thing to own, but what if you can train it? What if you're the only person it listens to? It's like a weapon at that point, whether you train it to attack or not. It's going to strike fear in others, whether they know it's vicious or not. It's a symbol of power in, quite frankly, the hands of those without much social currency. It's a piece of protection in a world preyed upon by slumlords and prejudiced utilities officers.
I think, oftentimes, we allow ourselves to craft our conception of God and theology along the same lines as the pitbulls in my neighborhood. If God's plan is to get glory for himself then we're still written into the script as a major actor. We're (humanity) still the ones who have to give God glory, so it's incomplete without us. God needs us and we're doing God's will when we're helping others glorify God too. That's why big churches, expensive worship equipment, and varied songbooks are so necessary. That's why the 10/40 window is more important than the Madison Avenue neighborhood of Cleveland. It's world domination or nothing. God wants glory and he wants to use us, and guess what? He's on our side! I'm meaning to sound a bit harsh on people with whom I generally associate on purpose: we've got to be positive we're doing what we're doing because it's right...not because we're giving into our personal will to power. If God is all about God's glory, he still needs us because in his omnipotence, he still can't glorify himself. We can, apparently, effectively outdo God because we can do the one thing he can't, which happens to be the one thing he wants most. If God though, as I believe, is all about showering his beloved creation with blessing, then a syngery exists when people are actively working to love each other and God's world well. Those aren't dichotomized opposites by any stretch. I'm saying though, that God isn't motivated by selfish glory hounding as much as he's motivated by his quite literally infinite love for his creation. The question comes back though: did God let Adam and Eve eat the fruit because he loved them? Finally, I do believe, that I can say yes to that: he allowed them free will. They chose poorly.
But I won't get too far ahead of myself. We need better language for what exactly Adam and Eve did. It's true, by Biblical translation they "allowed sin into the world." But culture and power-dynamics have greatly distorted what sin is or ever was. I'm not a greek or hebrew scholar, but I know sin, in concept, is the idea of missing the mark according to the traditional definition. That though, is an approximation for a concept found through the Bible. It's not a translation of the word used in Hebrew and Greek. If we examine what Adam and Eve actually did, it's obvious: they didn't choose to disobey God for disobedience sake. They chose to allow their interests to come before those of God. I'm a proponent of semantic hairsplitting as you may know, but it makes all the difference. Adam and Eve chose to do what was best, in their minds, for themselves; not for the world. Of course, even in that, they were incorrect. But God had to give them a choice to keep his desires first, or else they could never love. They would simply be his subservient creation with no will to love or, perhaps worse, be loved. Love is a dynamic choice in which the beloved and lover are constantly interacting and choosing to take part. It wasn't though, that the tree of knowledge was a "don't love God" choice. It was a choice to trust their own selves more than they trusted God. We were created to love God. We were created to trust God. The world was, initially, created to be stewarded by people who took God at his word because they knew his power, understood his love, and loved and trusted him back. But that's not what we've got on our hands now. That's sin: not being who God made us to be, not loving him and others as we ought; saying to him that we'd rather take our or the deciever's word for it. So often we mistake sin as breaking a commandment. We assume a law and call sin anything that breaks it. I don't discuss it much, but I don't believe in natural law theory, I'll just say that, and my reasoning is because it isn't Biblical. What is Biblical is a right way and a wrong way to live. The commandments, the law we assume that defines sin, was a covenant, akin to a vow. It has little to no bearing on what is or isn't sin...certainly, breaking it is (or was, for the OT jews), perpetuating the wrong way, but it's the same thing: deciding to live in a way that isn't trusting God first. God said, basically, through the covenant: "do all this stuff, and you'll be greatly blessed." To do otherwise is to inherently say that, either A. you believe God but want to suffer, or B. you don't take God's word on it and do what you believe will please you most.
Other than an (not as big of a deal as we want it to be because we want the power feeling objectively right affords us) opening for subjective morality, that probably isn't too Earth shattering. But read between the lines a bit: there's a right way, and a wrong way. There's not an alright way that's at least not wrong. It's one or the other, across every conceivable board. The rub, the deepest, darkest, most rash-leaving rub, comes from the fact that it isn't a lack of sin that Jesus most talks about: it's a lack of action. What condemns the pharisees? Not "sinning" and not taking care of the poor. We praise the widow because we don't read the Bible well. The widow, though valiant in her giving, isn't an object lesson in giving everything you have to Christ. It's an indictment of a system that builds huge temples and leaves the widow having so little. Read mark 12...it's true. We're so bound up in salvation not requiring works that we ignore James' stern remark that true religion is giving to the poor and marginalized...and not just giving, but actually caring for them. Part of me is very much a utilitarian universalist because I'm tired of arguing about how to get to heaven. God's powerful enough to let everyone in, so let's just shut up and start doing what he tells us to do. This is ultimately where I get worn out in reading the otherwise light-reading "Radical." It's a constant "don't worry, we're sharing the gospel while we're feeding the poor." Jesus said to love. He didn't say to do it with an agenda. He said they'll know we're his followers because of our love. That's the starting point. I can't help it but think it's incredibly unloving to only serve someone because you hope you get to share the gospel with them someday, so they can come to your church and worship God with you. It is loving to share the gospel, I'm not trying to say it isn't. But we've got to learn to love in ways that seem loving to the loved, and sometimes, no, all the time, that means laying aside any and every pretense. There's a balance, a limin to be stood within, wherein we've got to take risks in sharing the gospel, but we've also got to realize culture, context, and audience. I don't have the answer for every situation, but I know an honest, real love motivated by the love of Christ renders the question of when and how eventually moot.
There's nothing wrong with worship. I'm not trying to say there is. There's absolutely nothing wrong with sharing the Gospel...and no, I'm not really a universalist. I do think though, that we focus so much on getting to heaven that we ignore the hell people are already in. We go to church and worship because we're free from our misconstrued concept of sin and hell and we dangle that freedom on a string with no answer for the hell that is in the here and now, on the streets where the pitbulls are the only thing between you and an oppressive landlord. Maybe we focus on the gospel as getting to go to heaven so much because we have no idea how to live out the part of it that calls us to make heaven a reality here. Maybe we constructed our theologies about God getting glory through us for himself because we can't come to terms with him actually wanting us to do something about what is in the here and now, we can't come to terms with God calling us to love because he is love and wants to love through us. Make no mistake, if we were to see God's love transform the impoverished parts of our world (and my city), he would get plenty of glory, or ought to. But what's the motivation? Yes, I am basically saying that doing something for God's glory is either incorrect or at least incomplete. We are "to do all things to the glory of God," but we act like that's a pass to do whatever we want and claim some mystical ability to do it to God's glory. We are to do all things to God's glory, but what it is that we actually do matters too. God is love and God loves us, and he wants to love the world through us, for our own benefit and for the benefit of the world. If we do that to God's glory, then, my friends, we will see something real happen....not something artificial and hoped for in the worst possible ways. We've got to relinquish our theologies that favor us and those who look and act like us We've got to start loving, for real, no matter the cost...because that's what Jesus did.
To bring this full circle, I will close in saying that David Platt delivers a message the church needs to hear. But he does so in terms that still favor the American brand of evangelicalism that got us where we are. Maybe it's a step many need to take to get to a place of true radicalism that can change the world, but until we break out of self-favoring ideologies, we'll never actually renew the church...we'll just keep climbing and sliding down the same hill. The trick, dear readers, is to step to the side and get off the hill altogether.
-Zack
"Say hip-hop only destroy, tell 'em look at me boy"
-Lupe Fiasco
I don't know how many times I can read about how big his church is and how many millions of dollars the building is worth and believe that I'm supposed to take his word on how to be a 100% disciple. He talks much about blindspots, one major being American Christianity's overlooking of poverty. To that, I say "here here good sir," but I must have missed the part of what Jesus said that includes it being okay to spend millions on a church building in the first place. I also missed the part that said church buildings are an inherent part of ministry...but I digress.
David Platt mostly, isn't the enemy. Really, Christians, generally speaking, shouldn't be considered "the enemy". There is only one enemy, and he doesn't have a body. My real grievances with the book are two-fold: it doesn't go far enough and it's constantly putting on the brakes when it comes to the words everything and everyone, and a wholesale purchase of the exigetical tragedy that is the belief that all of everything that ever happened is due to God wanting more glory. I understand that the man was born blind for God's glory to be shown...by Jesus, healing him. I won't believe that Hitler rose to power for God's glory though, no matter what "good" has come of it. I won't believe that evil takes place for God's glory. Because it doesn't. God didn't allow Adam and Eve to sin because he'd be more glorified for it. Okay, that's a bold statement with which many won't take my side. It's just too clean, too easy, too blindly-overlooking-the-rest-of-the-Bible to take a few statements here and there and craft not just a sterile theology but a lifestyle, even one to mostly good ends. It's God's will that none should perish, but, if you're to believe Platt and those like him, it apparently maximizes his glory if not just some but most do indeed perish, so what must be done must be done. That, of course, begs the questions: why then? Why do bad things happen if not so God can be glorified through them? Because God loves us enough to let us decide and, in doing so, we decide to hurt each other. He also loves us enough that he's provided a way for the evil we perpetuate to be forgiven and for us to be with anyway.
It's not that I don't want to ascribe glory to God. But I think we overlook what that really means. Let's jump into Foucalt for a little bit and hopefully you'll know what I mean. Actually, let's not. Let's jump to my neighborhood, the corner of West 85th and Willlard, Cleveland, Ohio. I walk, by myself or with Alexandra, our little Havapoo (Havanese-poodle mix...don't ask me..I'm a Jack Russel man...it's her dog), around our neighborhood every single night. She's a crazy little mutt, but we love her and I'm glad to have her around most of the time. Hazlenut is far from the only dog in our neighborhood though. She is though, one of the smallest. For some reason (actually, I probably know it more than I'll go into here), the majority of the dogs in our neighborhood are pitbulls. That might sound scary. I'll be honest, it kind of is. To see a dog that weighs as much as I do pulling its owner along on a very thick chain, trying to get to Hazlenut, presumably to devour our little fluff ball, is less than pleasant. Pitbulls are the most illogical dog to own. They cost more in insurance if you can even get insurance with them at your house. They might be profitable, but I don't think most of them in our neighborhood are used for fighting. In addition to the pitbulls, there aren't, percentage-wise, and average number of single family homes in our neighborhood, and I would venture to guess most of the single family houses aren't owned by the tenants.
I can't speak for many individual stories. I don't know many people by name in our neighborhood right now. The picture I'm trying to paint though, is of powerful, quite frankly, dangerous dogs kept in homes that aren't owned by those who live there. Beyond being something of an insurance nightmare, there's something deeper going on, or at least there's a metaphor within it. A pitbull may be an irrational thing to own, but what if you can train it? What if you're the only person it listens to? It's like a weapon at that point, whether you train it to attack or not. It's going to strike fear in others, whether they know it's vicious or not. It's a symbol of power in, quite frankly, the hands of those without much social currency. It's a piece of protection in a world preyed upon by slumlords and prejudiced utilities officers.
I think, oftentimes, we allow ourselves to craft our conception of God and theology along the same lines as the pitbulls in my neighborhood. If God's plan is to get glory for himself then we're still written into the script as a major actor. We're (humanity) still the ones who have to give God glory, so it's incomplete without us. God needs us and we're doing God's will when we're helping others glorify God too. That's why big churches, expensive worship equipment, and varied songbooks are so necessary. That's why the 10/40 window is more important than the Madison Avenue neighborhood of Cleveland. It's world domination or nothing. God wants glory and he wants to use us, and guess what? He's on our side! I'm meaning to sound a bit harsh on people with whom I generally associate on purpose: we've got to be positive we're doing what we're doing because it's right...not because we're giving into our personal will to power. If God is all about God's glory, he still needs us because in his omnipotence, he still can't glorify himself. We can, apparently, effectively outdo God because we can do the one thing he can't, which happens to be the one thing he wants most. If God though, as I believe, is all about showering his beloved creation with blessing, then a syngery exists when people are actively working to love each other and God's world well. Those aren't dichotomized opposites by any stretch. I'm saying though, that God isn't motivated by selfish glory hounding as much as he's motivated by his quite literally infinite love for his creation. The question comes back though: did God let Adam and Eve eat the fruit because he loved them? Finally, I do believe, that I can say yes to that: he allowed them free will. They chose poorly.
But I won't get too far ahead of myself. We need better language for what exactly Adam and Eve did. It's true, by Biblical translation they "allowed sin into the world." But culture and power-dynamics have greatly distorted what sin is or ever was. I'm not a greek or hebrew scholar, but I know sin, in concept, is the idea of missing the mark according to the traditional definition. That though, is an approximation for a concept found through the Bible. It's not a translation of the word used in Hebrew and Greek. If we examine what Adam and Eve actually did, it's obvious: they didn't choose to disobey God for disobedience sake. They chose to allow their interests to come before those of God. I'm a proponent of semantic hairsplitting as you may know, but it makes all the difference. Adam and Eve chose to do what was best, in their minds, for themselves; not for the world. Of course, even in that, they were incorrect. But God had to give them a choice to keep his desires first, or else they could never love. They would simply be his subservient creation with no will to love or, perhaps worse, be loved. Love is a dynamic choice in which the beloved and lover are constantly interacting and choosing to take part. It wasn't though, that the tree of knowledge was a "don't love God" choice. It was a choice to trust their own selves more than they trusted God. We were created to love God. We were created to trust God. The world was, initially, created to be stewarded by people who took God at his word because they knew his power, understood his love, and loved and trusted him back. But that's not what we've got on our hands now. That's sin: not being who God made us to be, not loving him and others as we ought; saying to him that we'd rather take our or the deciever's word for it. So often we mistake sin as breaking a commandment. We assume a law and call sin anything that breaks it. I don't discuss it much, but I don't believe in natural law theory, I'll just say that, and my reasoning is because it isn't Biblical. What is Biblical is a right way and a wrong way to live. The commandments, the law we assume that defines sin, was a covenant, akin to a vow. It has little to no bearing on what is or isn't sin...certainly, breaking it is (or was, for the OT jews), perpetuating the wrong way, but it's the same thing: deciding to live in a way that isn't trusting God first. God said, basically, through the covenant: "do all this stuff, and you'll be greatly blessed." To do otherwise is to inherently say that, either A. you believe God but want to suffer, or B. you don't take God's word on it and do what you believe will please you most.
Other than an (not as big of a deal as we want it to be because we want the power feeling objectively right affords us) opening for subjective morality, that probably isn't too Earth shattering. But read between the lines a bit: there's a right way, and a wrong way. There's not an alright way that's at least not wrong. It's one or the other, across every conceivable board. The rub, the deepest, darkest, most rash-leaving rub, comes from the fact that it isn't a lack of sin that Jesus most talks about: it's a lack of action. What condemns the pharisees? Not "sinning" and not taking care of the poor. We praise the widow because we don't read the Bible well. The widow, though valiant in her giving, isn't an object lesson in giving everything you have to Christ. It's an indictment of a system that builds huge temples and leaves the widow having so little. Read mark 12...it's true. We're so bound up in salvation not requiring works that we ignore James' stern remark that true religion is giving to the poor and marginalized...and not just giving, but actually caring for them. Part of me is very much a utilitarian universalist because I'm tired of arguing about how to get to heaven. God's powerful enough to let everyone in, so let's just shut up and start doing what he tells us to do. This is ultimately where I get worn out in reading the otherwise light-reading "Radical." It's a constant "don't worry, we're sharing the gospel while we're feeding the poor." Jesus said to love. He didn't say to do it with an agenda. He said they'll know we're his followers because of our love. That's the starting point. I can't help it but think it's incredibly unloving to only serve someone because you hope you get to share the gospel with them someday, so they can come to your church and worship God with you. It is loving to share the gospel, I'm not trying to say it isn't. But we've got to learn to love in ways that seem loving to the loved, and sometimes, no, all the time, that means laying aside any and every pretense. There's a balance, a limin to be stood within, wherein we've got to take risks in sharing the gospel, but we've also got to realize culture, context, and audience. I don't have the answer for every situation, but I know an honest, real love motivated by the love of Christ renders the question of when and how eventually moot.
There's nothing wrong with worship. I'm not trying to say there is. There's absolutely nothing wrong with sharing the Gospel...and no, I'm not really a universalist. I do think though, that we focus so much on getting to heaven that we ignore the hell people are already in. We go to church and worship because we're free from our misconstrued concept of sin and hell and we dangle that freedom on a string with no answer for the hell that is in the here and now, on the streets where the pitbulls are the only thing between you and an oppressive landlord. Maybe we focus on the gospel as getting to go to heaven so much because we have no idea how to live out the part of it that calls us to make heaven a reality here. Maybe we constructed our theologies about God getting glory through us for himself because we can't come to terms with him actually wanting us to do something about what is in the here and now, we can't come to terms with God calling us to love because he is love and wants to love through us. Make no mistake, if we were to see God's love transform the impoverished parts of our world (and my city), he would get plenty of glory, or ought to. But what's the motivation? Yes, I am basically saying that doing something for God's glory is either incorrect or at least incomplete. We are "to do all things to the glory of God," but we act like that's a pass to do whatever we want and claim some mystical ability to do it to God's glory. We are to do all things to God's glory, but what it is that we actually do matters too. God is love and God loves us, and he wants to love the world through us, for our own benefit and for the benefit of the world. If we do that to God's glory, then, my friends, we will see something real happen....not something artificial and hoped for in the worst possible ways. We've got to relinquish our theologies that favor us and those who look and act like us We've got to start loving, for real, no matter the cost...because that's what Jesus did.
To bring this full circle, I will close in saying that David Platt delivers a message the church needs to hear. But he does so in terms that still favor the American brand of evangelicalism that got us where we are. Maybe it's a step many need to take to get to a place of true radicalism that can change the world, but until we break out of self-favoring ideologies, we'll never actually renew the church...we'll just keep climbing and sliding down the same hill. The trick, dear readers, is to step to the side and get off the hill altogether.
-Zack
"Say hip-hop only destroy, tell 'em look at me boy"
-Lupe Fiasco
Friday, August 12, 2011
Erasing Black Lines
I should probably provide a little bit of clarification before I get into the heart of this. I know, a week or two ago, I said I was going to try to post everyday. That's still true. But in all honesty, it's never going to be daily. I probably won't post on most if not all of Alexandra's days off. I'll almost never post when I'm away for a conference. This week was the Great Lakes East InterVarsity Regional Staff Conference. It was a wonderful three days exploring prayer toward authoritative vision, but it wasn't possible to write a post for this, and really, that's ultimately a good thing. It is, ultimately, a line from yesterday, as we were nearly finished, that is spurring at least the beginning of this post. As we talked about a few passages in Hebrews throughout the week that highlighted "Entering God's Rest," our Regional Director made the point that, too often in life, we live as if the dichotomy between "rest" and "activity" is real. In actuality, he said, we can be active in our work (professionally, domestically, whatever) from a posture of rest by living in the reality that God will and does give us the strength to do the things he has for us in life. We don't have to strive to achieve of our own strength and thus, a prayerful, God-ful life is one in which we can experience a form of constant rest even in our "doing." That has got me to thinking, for this blogpost, that we simply don't talk about the presentness of the Kingdom. We use salvation as our selling point. We talk about praying a prayer that apparently saves us from hell, then we talk about living a life in a "right" way so that we can please the God who saved us. At every turn though, it just feels like the Bible calls us to something larger than a heavenbound wish for Eternal life. Eternal life is promised. Don't just believe it; embrace it as a truth and move on to life here and now, where God has a plan for your life much larger than a simple assent that Jesus died and rose for your sins.
I'm coming to terms with the fact that the Bible doesn't tell us how to live a certain way because it pleases him. It does, most certainly. But God wants to give everyone on the Earth the best possible life right now. Right now is flawed and that doesn't happen, not by a far cry, but its obvious that he's given us the charge to make that possible. He's created one huge family from formerly irreconcilable groups of people, and the great mystery, as it says in Ephesians, is that we can be a true, authentic community no matter where we've been or who we were.
I don't know your personal experience of honest, real community, but I believe it to be a gift of God. I believe God's love is best loved through others toward one another. There's nothing better in the world. It's popular, at weddings, to claim that Marriage is great because it's an Earthly image of God's love for the church. I don't like that take because it denigrates marriage as nothing but a symbol. I don't like it either, because it's unbiblical. God's given us one another to experience his love and grace in the here and now...not as a symbol, but really, as the real love of God through one another. I believe marriage is at its best when it too is marked by God's love lived and shown to each spouse through the other. That's power. That's life-altering.
It's popular to say that Jesus didn't say make converts, make disciples. We act like that means don't have people "get saved" and leave them...help them know how to live a Godly life too! But really, a disciple is more than that. It's a person who does as his or her teacher showed them. Jesus created a small community of people and showed them a love that transcended where they'd been and what they'd done. As he traveled around, he invited people into that: to be the loved and the loving.
As I get ready to embark on another semester of ministry, I'm reimagining evangelism in my own way. The hole in our gospel is much larger than its incompleteness: it's its wrong intent. I'm not going to invite anyone to heaven this semester. I can't get them to heaven. Their faith can't get them to heaven. Only God can do that, after a death I hope to be much farther away than my annual review's due date. But I can invite them into a community of love and, I hope, show them how to get enough outside themselves to become full members of the community who can show others love as we add to our number.
-Zack
"Until the lion learns to speak, the tales of hunting will always favor the hunter"
-K'Naan
I'm coming to terms with the fact that the Bible doesn't tell us how to live a certain way because it pleases him. It does, most certainly. But God wants to give everyone on the Earth the best possible life right now. Right now is flawed and that doesn't happen, not by a far cry, but its obvious that he's given us the charge to make that possible. He's created one huge family from formerly irreconcilable groups of people, and the great mystery, as it says in Ephesians, is that we can be a true, authentic community no matter where we've been or who we were.
I don't know your personal experience of honest, real community, but I believe it to be a gift of God. I believe God's love is best loved through others toward one another. There's nothing better in the world. It's popular, at weddings, to claim that Marriage is great because it's an Earthly image of God's love for the church. I don't like that take because it denigrates marriage as nothing but a symbol. I don't like it either, because it's unbiblical. God's given us one another to experience his love and grace in the here and now...not as a symbol, but really, as the real love of God through one another. I believe marriage is at its best when it too is marked by God's love lived and shown to each spouse through the other. That's power. That's life-altering.
It's popular to say that Jesus didn't say make converts, make disciples. We act like that means don't have people "get saved" and leave them...help them know how to live a Godly life too! But really, a disciple is more than that. It's a person who does as his or her teacher showed them. Jesus created a small community of people and showed them a love that transcended where they'd been and what they'd done. As he traveled around, he invited people into that: to be the loved and the loving.
As I get ready to embark on another semester of ministry, I'm reimagining evangelism in my own way. The hole in our gospel is much larger than its incompleteness: it's its wrong intent. I'm not going to invite anyone to heaven this semester. I can't get them to heaven. Their faith can't get them to heaven. Only God can do that, after a death I hope to be much farther away than my annual review's due date. But I can invite them into a community of love and, I hope, show them how to get enough outside themselves to become full members of the community who can show others love as we add to our number.
-Zack
"Until the lion learns to speak, the tales of hunting will always favor the hunter"
-K'Naan
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Eating Cleveland #2: La Strada
About two weeks ago, prior to attending a rained out Indians game and just moments after deciding an hour wait at the Great Lakes Brewing restaurant would make us late for said game that never happened, my dad and I ended up at a quirky Italian/Moroccan restaurant on E. 4th street called "La Strada."
For those of you unaware, E. 4th is a short stretch of what used to be a normal street just a few blocks from the center of Cleveland (hence the low number), now populated with some of the finest dining in the city. It's also taken on a bit of an identity as the part of town to hang out in after and before games at the Q and Progressive field, which makes for a strange mix. It's nice though, and I've never disliked anything I've ate in that food court meets back alley. The coffee shop there, the Lake Erie Coffee Company, is probably my favorite coffee shop in Cleveland, at least so far. It's far too inconvenient to frequent from the semi-near west side, but the coffee and decor are outstanding.
This though, is primarily about our meal at La Strada. To anyone who knows Italian neo-surrealist film, that name means something, and I wasn't disappointed to find out that the connection was intentional If you go here: http://zacharybelchers4.xanga.com/ you'll have enough hints to understand the scope of what that means to me. To say nothing (yet), of the food, consider this: a faux renaissance opera house melding the grotesque (a large ceramic blue and white eyeball) with the regal (plush crimson curtains and expensive-looking bronze sconces) with a Charlie Chaplin film reel played on a section of wall above the main dining area, to a soundtrack of Pink Floyd's full Dark Side of the Moon album. To varying degrees, whomever it was that designed the visual stylings of La Strada successfully transports the patrons to a different place when they walk into the restaurant. It was fun, but from a purely Felliniesque standpoint, the mark is missed wildly. Fellini was and is successful because he allows the viewer to believe, even for a second, that what's on screen is real. At La Strada, the artifice oozes at each turn. It's quite the opposite effect of Fellini's impressionistic style. That's probably a split hair to a degree because I do appreciate that it wasn't just taking a name from one of the most important films of all time and not trying to be as unique as Fellini was and is, but the tie-in is more contrived than holistically experienced.
The food though, was outstanding. I would have hoped for more seasoning in the bread dipping mixture (simply a few drops of balsamic vinegar in a lighter-than-expected olive oil), but that is my only mark against the cuisine. The bread itself was excellent; warm, nicely crusted on the outside with delectably fluffy and moist inner body. My entree, a stuffed chicken atop risotto, was delicious. I prefer my risotto a bit cheesier and it had a strong lemon flavor I could have done without, but that would have made for a different meal. Taking it for what it was, it was excellent. The chicken itself (fully off the bone, tenderized, and wrapped around the filling) was delicious; stuffed with prosciutto, gorgonzola, and generous amounts of fresh basil, each bite, especially taken with the risotto, was, in its own way, wholly unique and delicious.
So. The food was good, the atmosphere strange, and the concept somewhat missed. Would I go back? Well, not anytime soon. It's a bit expensive and there are so many more places to go that are either cheaper or in the same cost-bracket. Maybe, when my culinary adventures around this city are through, then I will return to my favorite places. Maybe then, La Strada will come back around. I can't say I was disappointed, but, for as good as the food was, the experience itself, all told, puts a customer more on edge than it provides a comfortable space. I understand dining as an experience, but I don't understand melding the Phantom of the Opera, Pink Floyd, and Chaplin, then calling it Fellini. Antonioni, perhaps....
-Zack
For those of you unaware, E. 4th is a short stretch of what used to be a normal street just a few blocks from the center of Cleveland (hence the low number), now populated with some of the finest dining in the city. It's also taken on a bit of an identity as the part of town to hang out in after and before games at the Q and Progressive field, which makes for a strange mix. It's nice though, and I've never disliked anything I've ate in that food court meets back alley. The coffee shop there, the Lake Erie Coffee Company, is probably my favorite coffee shop in Cleveland, at least so far. It's far too inconvenient to frequent from the semi-near west side, but the coffee and decor are outstanding.
This though, is primarily about our meal at La Strada. To anyone who knows Italian neo-surrealist film, that name means something, and I wasn't disappointed to find out that the connection was intentional If you go here: http://zacharybelchers4.xanga.com/ you'll have enough hints to understand the scope of what that means to me. To say nothing (yet), of the food, consider this: a faux renaissance opera house melding the grotesque (a large ceramic blue and white eyeball) with the regal (plush crimson curtains and expensive-looking bronze sconces) with a Charlie Chaplin film reel played on a section of wall above the main dining area, to a soundtrack of Pink Floyd's full Dark Side of the Moon album. To varying degrees, whomever it was that designed the visual stylings of La Strada successfully transports the patrons to a different place when they walk into the restaurant. It was fun, but from a purely Felliniesque standpoint, the mark is missed wildly. Fellini was and is successful because he allows the viewer to believe, even for a second, that what's on screen is real. At La Strada, the artifice oozes at each turn. It's quite the opposite effect of Fellini's impressionistic style. That's probably a split hair to a degree because I do appreciate that it wasn't just taking a name from one of the most important films of all time and not trying to be as unique as Fellini was and is, but the tie-in is more contrived than holistically experienced.
The food though, was outstanding. I would have hoped for more seasoning in the bread dipping mixture (simply a few drops of balsamic vinegar in a lighter-than-expected olive oil), but that is my only mark against the cuisine. The bread itself was excellent; warm, nicely crusted on the outside with delectably fluffy and moist inner body. My entree, a stuffed chicken atop risotto, was delicious. I prefer my risotto a bit cheesier and it had a strong lemon flavor I could have done without, but that would have made for a different meal. Taking it for what it was, it was excellent. The chicken itself (fully off the bone, tenderized, and wrapped around the filling) was delicious; stuffed with prosciutto, gorgonzola, and generous amounts of fresh basil, each bite, especially taken with the risotto, was, in its own way, wholly unique and delicious.
So. The food was good, the atmosphere strange, and the concept somewhat missed. Would I go back? Well, not anytime soon. It's a bit expensive and there are so many more places to go that are either cheaper or in the same cost-bracket. Maybe, when my culinary adventures around this city are through, then I will return to my favorite places. Maybe then, La Strada will come back around. I can't say I was disappointed, but, for as good as the food was, the experience itself, all told, puts a customer more on edge than it provides a comfortable space. I understand dining as an experience, but I don't understand melding the Phantom of the Opera, Pink Floyd, and Chaplin, then calling it Fellini. Antonioni, perhaps....
-Zack
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Atop the Margins: Daniel Deronda
Last week, I finished my first George Eliot novel: Daniel Deronda. It wasn't by design that I read her last work first. It was simply the best looking book I could find in my room when I was looking for a new book to throw into the rotation last December.
I feel like I ought to do some sort of penance for waiting so long to read any Eliot. Though Daniel Deronda seems to generally be regarded as her best overall work (not her most famous or significant though; that will always be Middlemarch), it's obvious at all points throughout the novel that Eliot is a master of the English language and deserves as much credit as we can give her.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of DD is its insistence on giving agency to British Jews. For as genuinely forward thinking I believe my favorite 19th century British authors to be, even Emily Bronte has her ethnic taboos to work through as a post-modern, 21st century reader. Eliot, as a white, provincial author, actually wants to give credence to the Jewish race and religion. What's more, she does so without turning her 800 pages into a treatise in favor of better conditions for Jewish people in England. She weaves her commentary into a real plot, with real characters; a move ultimately more affective than any vitriolic political piece would actually be. That is not, however, to put it alongside Huck Finn or Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. Both of those emphasize the existence of the Other and try to convince the reader that "they" really aren't so bad after all. But Eliot, more skilled as a writer and at crafting a plot, does what she can with 19th century British sensibilities to blur the lines creating the other. The main character enters as both. He is always already the other and the privileged set. I haven't read Silas Marner or Middlemarch (though I know I must, very soon), but Eliot is ahead of her time by, literally, a couple of centuries.
As an English major with a particular penchant for Dickens, the Brontes, and Austen, I won't lie to myself or to any of you and claim that I can speak to the novels broad appeal to the average 2011 reader. I loved it, but it was probably more "boring" than Wuthering Heights, so be warned.
But if you do decide to pick up this veritable masterpiece, I urge you to finish it (as I always do). It is worth every second. Every word finds its place alongside others in ways you've never before experienced. Wrap your mind around Daniel Deronda and you'll be a better reader. Do so with an open heart, and you just might be a better person too.
-Zack
I feel like I ought to do some sort of penance for waiting so long to read any Eliot. Though Daniel Deronda seems to generally be regarded as her best overall work (not her most famous or significant though; that will always be Middlemarch), it's obvious at all points throughout the novel that Eliot is a master of the English language and deserves as much credit as we can give her.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of DD is its insistence on giving agency to British Jews. For as genuinely forward thinking I believe my favorite 19th century British authors to be, even Emily Bronte has her ethnic taboos to work through as a post-modern, 21st century reader. Eliot, as a white, provincial author, actually wants to give credence to the Jewish race and religion. What's more, she does so without turning her 800 pages into a treatise in favor of better conditions for Jewish people in England. She weaves her commentary into a real plot, with real characters; a move ultimately more affective than any vitriolic political piece would actually be. That is not, however, to put it alongside Huck Finn or Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. Both of those emphasize the existence of the Other and try to convince the reader that "they" really aren't so bad after all. But Eliot, more skilled as a writer and at crafting a plot, does what she can with 19th century British sensibilities to blur the lines creating the other. The main character enters as both. He is always already the other and the privileged set. I haven't read Silas Marner or Middlemarch (though I know I must, very soon), but Eliot is ahead of her time by, literally, a couple of centuries.
As an English major with a particular penchant for Dickens, the Brontes, and Austen, I won't lie to myself or to any of you and claim that I can speak to the novels broad appeal to the average 2011 reader. I loved it, but it was probably more "boring" than Wuthering Heights, so be warned.
But if you do decide to pick up this veritable masterpiece, I urge you to finish it (as I always do). It is worth every second. Every word finds its place alongside others in ways you've never before experienced. Wrap your mind around Daniel Deronda and you'll be a better reader. Do so with an open heart, and you just might be a better person too.
-Zack
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Thoughts on the debt
I've tried to keep my generally uninformed opinion on the deficit crisis this country has been through, but I think I've got enough of a grasp and enough of an idea to chime in finally, even if cursorily.
As we all probably know, the deficit is at an all time high and without raising the "debt ceiling" we, as a nation, would default on our loans and the world would implode, or something like that.
As a died-in-the-wool liberal teetering on communist tendencies, I never wanted to see any social programs cut. I don't want anything that helps the disadvantaged to meet any sort of chopping block, and I proactively support increased spending to fight poverty and hunger here and abroad. This crisis, of course, isn't the best backdrop to trumpet increased spending on anything, and I'll even leave my disgust at spending even 1/3rd of what we do on defense out of this for the time being.
I don't though, as someone who has some money, has had money, and will deal with money for the rest of my life, understand how a deficit defeated by cut spending alone, without increased income, is a form of "balance." You've probably dealt with money before too. There are, of course, two ways to increase the number in your bank account: spend less and/or bring in more. The irrational, power-hungry, racist, classist, heartless tea party set is convinced we take in more than enough in taxes to fund multiple unjust, expensive, imperial wars and to pay down the deficit. The answer, of course, is selling our future as a nation short by defunding education for those who can't afford private schools and killing off the lower classes by literally making it impossible for lower-income people to pay for healthcare and food. Taxes, apparently, are a greater enemy than preventable disease and unjust suffering by millions around the globe.
It appears to me that they've basically won by dragging their feet. I'm going to vote for Obama and every democrat on the ballot next year, but I'm disappointed in all of them for giving in to the tyrants. The tea party runs on a platform of standing up for the commoner and fighting the special interest, and yet, the only constiuents that gain anything from their ideology are those with the most money. That's reprehensible and I'm ashamed to live in a country that watches out for the richest people first and hopes for trickle down. Trickle down doesn't work and it never will, because, if nothing else, we can always count on greed and human nature to take advantage of the powerless.
-Zack
"Let me tell you what little I know and if it's worth something, spread it indeed"
-K'naan
As we all probably know, the deficit is at an all time high and without raising the "debt ceiling" we, as a nation, would default on our loans and the world would implode, or something like that.
As a died-in-the-wool liberal teetering on communist tendencies, I never wanted to see any social programs cut. I don't want anything that helps the disadvantaged to meet any sort of chopping block, and I proactively support increased spending to fight poverty and hunger here and abroad. This crisis, of course, isn't the best backdrop to trumpet increased spending on anything, and I'll even leave my disgust at spending even 1/3rd of what we do on defense out of this for the time being.
I don't though, as someone who has some money, has had money, and will deal with money for the rest of my life, understand how a deficit defeated by cut spending alone, without increased income, is a form of "balance." You've probably dealt with money before too. There are, of course, two ways to increase the number in your bank account: spend less and/or bring in more. The irrational, power-hungry, racist, classist, heartless tea party set is convinced we take in more than enough in taxes to fund multiple unjust, expensive, imperial wars and to pay down the deficit. The answer, of course, is selling our future as a nation short by defunding education for those who can't afford private schools and killing off the lower classes by literally making it impossible for lower-income people to pay for healthcare and food. Taxes, apparently, are a greater enemy than preventable disease and unjust suffering by millions around the globe.
It appears to me that they've basically won by dragging their feet. I'm going to vote for Obama and every democrat on the ballot next year, but I'm disappointed in all of them for giving in to the tyrants. The tea party runs on a platform of standing up for the commoner and fighting the special interest, and yet, the only constiuents that gain anything from their ideology are those with the most money. That's reprehensible and I'm ashamed to live in a country that watches out for the richest people first and hopes for trickle down. Trickle down doesn't work and it never will, because, if nothing else, we can always count on greed and human nature to take advantage of the powerless.
-Zack
"Let me tell you what little I know and if it's worth something, spread it indeed"
-K'naan
Monday, August 1, 2011
That Same Power...
Paul said that the same power which raised Jesus from the dead is actively at work in the world today. I don't disbelieve that intellectually, but it's a truth I'm engaged in a constant struggle to actually embrace.
I want to be confident in that fact; I want to take heart in the promise that there's something larger than the power of life and death backing me up. But a lot of the time, I run from the fact. I run from the thought that it's at all something apart from me supplying the power; that it's not me. Because so often, so badly, I want it to be me. I can honestly say that I wish I was doing something, or that it was me unleashing all of the power. But it's not, and I'm just being real by saying that I wish it wasn't the case.
There's a little bit of Voldemort in all of us, or at least I know there is in me. Someday I'll write, at length, about Voldemort. But not right now.
I wish I could try harder and feel more prepared for CSU. I wish I could try harder and love CSU and the people in my life more than I do right now. I wish I could just try harder and be exactly what I need to be, when I need to be it.
But I can't. I'm only human, and I'm not foolish enough to have much confidence in much of anything I do or can do or will do. But God is. God Will. God is what we need him to be, when we need him to be it. He's even bigger than that though. He's everything, all at once, to the point that we can't humanly comprehend at all what that means. He's big enough, that with or without us, his purposes in the world are going to go forth and his present and coming Kingdom will continue to be and do just that til completion. It makes me, as a human, feel positively useless sometimes, if I let it. But God let's us be a part of it. His purpose is, for a reason that, too, is beyond me, to use humans. He's created us all for a purpose in that effort. Thankfully, that will be what happens no matter how much we screw up too. I apologize for tipping right and left on the free-will issue. The best way I can understand it is an incomprehensible coin with two sides that are both fully true.
God doesn't need me at CSU.
And yet, by His will, I pray he uses me in earth-shaking ways every single day. Someday I'll know what it means, that both have always already been true since this whole thing started.
For now, I'll just march on and do my best to let him be in control and use his power exactly how he wishes and in absolutely no other way.
-Zack
"Just listenin to 'Pac, ain't gon' make it stop"
-Lupe Fiasco
I want to be confident in that fact; I want to take heart in the promise that there's something larger than the power of life and death backing me up. But a lot of the time, I run from the fact. I run from the thought that it's at all something apart from me supplying the power; that it's not me. Because so often, so badly, I want it to be me. I can honestly say that I wish I was doing something, or that it was me unleashing all of the power. But it's not, and I'm just being real by saying that I wish it wasn't the case.
There's a little bit of Voldemort in all of us, or at least I know there is in me. Someday I'll write, at length, about Voldemort. But not right now.
I wish I could try harder and feel more prepared for CSU. I wish I could try harder and love CSU and the people in my life more than I do right now. I wish I could just try harder and be exactly what I need to be, when I need to be it.
But I can't. I'm only human, and I'm not foolish enough to have much confidence in much of anything I do or can do or will do. But God is. God Will. God is what we need him to be, when we need him to be it. He's even bigger than that though. He's everything, all at once, to the point that we can't humanly comprehend at all what that means. He's big enough, that with or without us, his purposes in the world are going to go forth and his present and coming Kingdom will continue to be and do just that til completion. It makes me, as a human, feel positively useless sometimes, if I let it. But God let's us be a part of it. His purpose is, for a reason that, too, is beyond me, to use humans. He's created us all for a purpose in that effort. Thankfully, that will be what happens no matter how much we screw up too. I apologize for tipping right and left on the free-will issue. The best way I can understand it is an incomprehensible coin with two sides that are both fully true.
God doesn't need me at CSU.
And yet, by His will, I pray he uses me in earth-shaking ways every single day. Someday I'll know what it means, that both have always already been true since this whole thing started.
For now, I'll just march on and do my best to let him be in control and use his power exactly how he wishes and in absolutely no other way.
-Zack
"Just listenin to 'Pac, ain't gon' make it stop"
-Lupe Fiasco
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Across Grey Seas: The Lord of the Rings
I finished my 1.5 year adventure in reading the Lord of the Rings once more this morning. It's something I'd not done in its entirety since the films came out, and I do find that I had trouble picturing anything but the actors as each of the characters. Thankfully, they were cast well enough and that wasn't too much of a problem. I'm always struck by how well Tolkien handles language. What he could do with a narrative, characters, and a cosmic-personal interplay is essentially unparalleled. The reader doesn't, by any means, fall in love with the characters the same way one generally does with Hermione, Harry, and Ron. Nor does the total experience transport the reader to a different intellectual plain like Joyce. But even so, he's somewhere in between, and much like my praise for Rowling, he created a world with sheer creativity most can only hope to approach.
The last two chapters, "The Scouring of the Shire" and "The Grey Havens" are among my favorite in all of literature. At it's best, The Lord of the Rings makes the reader long for a home somewhere dearer, grander, more real than anywhere of this world. In some ways, it's a strength of the series that Middle Earth could be our own world in a different age, but in a different sense, it's at its best when the ideals can become so real and otherworldly. Even as the shire is under the influence of evil when the protagonists return, the overwhelming power of good over evil wins out, and Frodo, having been transformed, even urges his friends "not to kill anyone if you can help it." My own ideological issues with the Lord of the Rings generally derive from how Christians use it to further our misguided support of real wars and use battle metaphors in a spiritual sense. But I was reminded these past few days as I finished the book that Tolkien was arguing against that in his own subtle way. The "War of the Ring" is a defensive battle as Mordor is assailing Gondor, as is Helm's Deep. Ultimately, the only offensive action taken by characters in the book is the attack on Isengard by the Ents, and their goal is to destroy the machinery destroying their homes, whilst allowing Saruman and Grima to survive. It is the destruction of the ring, the casting of the source of Evil to it's doom, that wins the war, and nothing else. There is violence involved, but Tolkien never really suggests that any amount of bloodshed is justified unless purely out of self defense. Even Frodo's decision to spare Gollum is redeemed. This speaks to both Tolkien's control of his narrative, but also betrays his deepest feelings about war and violence. With that in view, it compels me to keep up my own ideological fight against Christian millitantism. I didn't expect that when I embarked on this classic saga last March. I am glad to have found it, in the end. To think that Hillsdale holds these books that speak strongly against their interpretation of their own world view, in so high a regard, it is humorous. There is an enemy among their camp, from a most unexpected source.
Though they are dense and I didn't think it would take so long to get through all four, I am glad, as I have always been, to have experienced Middle Earth all over again. I will assuredly wait to go through them again, maybe ten years once more. But I will return, of that I am sure.
-Zack
The last two chapters, "The Scouring of the Shire" and "The Grey Havens" are among my favorite in all of literature. At it's best, The Lord of the Rings makes the reader long for a home somewhere dearer, grander, more real than anywhere of this world. In some ways, it's a strength of the series that Middle Earth could be our own world in a different age, but in a different sense, it's at its best when the ideals can become so real and otherworldly. Even as the shire is under the influence of evil when the protagonists return, the overwhelming power of good over evil wins out, and Frodo, having been transformed, even urges his friends "not to kill anyone if you can help it." My own ideological issues with the Lord of the Rings generally derive from how Christians use it to further our misguided support of real wars and use battle metaphors in a spiritual sense. But I was reminded these past few days as I finished the book that Tolkien was arguing against that in his own subtle way. The "War of the Ring" is a defensive battle as Mordor is assailing Gondor, as is Helm's Deep. Ultimately, the only offensive action taken by characters in the book is the attack on Isengard by the Ents, and their goal is to destroy the machinery destroying their homes, whilst allowing Saruman and Grima to survive. It is the destruction of the ring, the casting of the source of Evil to it's doom, that wins the war, and nothing else. There is violence involved, but Tolkien never really suggests that any amount of bloodshed is justified unless purely out of self defense. Even Frodo's decision to spare Gollum is redeemed. This speaks to both Tolkien's control of his narrative, but also betrays his deepest feelings about war and violence. With that in view, it compels me to keep up my own ideological fight against Christian millitantism. I didn't expect that when I embarked on this classic saga last March. I am glad to have found it, in the end. To think that Hillsdale holds these books that speak strongly against their interpretation of their own world view, in so high a regard, it is humorous. There is an enemy among their camp, from a most unexpected source.
Though they are dense and I didn't think it would take so long to get through all four, I am glad, as I have always been, to have experienced Middle Earth all over again. I will assuredly wait to go through them again, maybe ten years once more. But I will return, of that I am sure.
-Zack
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Eating Cleveland #1: Taste of Tremont
About three weeks ago, Alexandra and I experienced two firsts together: the RTA rapid and a Cleveland neighborhood festival.
I will ignore, for a moment, how somewhat annoyed I am at how Tremont sets itself up as a sort of inner-suburb, to mention that it is, by all means, what I would have loved the small towns I've lived in most of my life to resemble: small shops, good food, beautiful scenery, and a minute or two from three major sports stadiums.
The Taste of Tremont is what it sounds like. When I was younger, what is now known as "Fun Fest" in Ottawa was called "the Taste of Putnam." We basically ignored that most towns in our county had their own, better, town festivals and claimed them all because we were the country seat. That was basically some inflatable rides on mainstreet and a beer garden with horrific cover bands we could hear from my house. As far a I know, it's the same thing. Tremont, however, does something quite outstanding in comparison.
Along the main street in the neighborhood, virtually every restaurant and shop has set out a sampling of their goods and fare for purchase. It is, by all counts, a great place to go and spend a fairly reasonable sum on delicious food through a sort of progressive meal. I imagine thousands show up throughout the single day, and I doubt many leave hungry or disappointed. It was a hot day, but every drop of sweat walking from the Ohio City RTA station to Tremont and back after walking around the festival was completely worth it. In addition to the delicious food we got to experience the feeling as part of a larger community (which hasn't been easy in Cleveland; knowing few people and being detached from the places we grew up). Taking a few hours on a Sunday afternoon to do anything else will almost never be as enjoyable. We even bought a Jade Plant now named "Herbert," who lives on our windowsill. Even if we struck out and only bought bad food, I'd probably still have great things to say. I'm not sure though, that that would actually be possible....
All in all, We ate 5 things:
1. Pork spring rolls from Bac Asian American Bistro- fairly standard, but cooked to perfection and anytime a restaurant offers Sriracha as a dipping sauce, you know it's worth at least trying.
2. Baklava from the Istanbul Grill- suffered from the heat, but the filling was tasty
3. A pork platter (with corn on the cob and cole slaw) from the Ohio Farmers association stand- the "spicy" barbecue sauce was mild and the cole slaw far too acidic, but the corn was delicious and the pork itself absolutely succulent
4. Ice Cream sandwiches (chocolate peanut butter and raspberry cheesecake) from Scoops- I love that they have homemade, vastly varied ice cream sandwiches between decently sized chocolate chip cookies. I wish though, that a flavor like "raspberry cheesecake" wasn't made with a cookie involving chocolate. The chips overpowered the flavor (which was actually a swirl in vanilla ice cream). I can't complain about the texture though. All in all it was a great way to cool down in the heat, albeit a bit heavy to walk around after having ate it..
5. Mac and Cheese with Mint Lemonade from Lolita- This was no ordinary macaroni and cheese. It was a white sauce, probably a combination of 3 or four italian cheeses, heavy on marjoram and rosemary. There's always a chance mass-produced, chafing dish macaroni and cheese will be ruined by the conditions no matter how well it's made. This was certainly not the case with this though. The noodles were perfect and the heat didn't seem to negatively influence the dish at all. As for the lemonade, it was the most perfectly refreshing sugar-based beverage I've ever had, and I think that's because of the delightful mint-essence throughout. It was light and lemony, with a crisp mint finish. Very near perfect.
None of the food was anything but delicious. My favorite was definitely the mac and cheese from Lolita, but I'm biased by my affinity for the Food Network. I think my least favorite was the Baklava because it was too warm out and it fell apart while being too mushy. None of these were significant samplings to judge the overall dining experience at any of these restaurants, but each was good enough to draw me back at some point in the future.
It's interesting to me that Bac fashions itself as an "Asian American" Bistro. I don't know what that means; I suspect it means Asian fusion with some American items on the menu, but, perhaps, it is actually a claim on an ethnic food styling for people specifically Asian American in ethnicity? That would be interesting, to at least get their take on that, if it is indeed the goal.
Lolita is probably the place I'd most like to revisit because it's rare you get to eat food from a literally world renowned chef in your own backyard. It's also probably the most expensive so I might just have to settle on the establishment's offerings at next year's taste of Tremont.
In any event, I'm glad we went and I'll definitely be going back as many years as I can. If you're in Cleveland around the middle of July next year, I highly recommend the experience.
-Zack
I will ignore, for a moment, how somewhat annoyed I am at how Tremont sets itself up as a sort of inner-suburb, to mention that it is, by all means, what I would have loved the small towns I've lived in most of my life to resemble: small shops, good food, beautiful scenery, and a minute or two from three major sports stadiums.
The Taste of Tremont is what it sounds like. When I was younger, what is now known as "Fun Fest" in Ottawa was called "the Taste of Putnam." We basically ignored that most towns in our county had their own, better, town festivals and claimed them all because we were the country seat. That was basically some inflatable rides on mainstreet and a beer garden with horrific cover bands we could hear from my house. As far a I know, it's the same thing. Tremont, however, does something quite outstanding in comparison.
Along the main street in the neighborhood, virtually every restaurant and shop has set out a sampling of their goods and fare for purchase. It is, by all counts, a great place to go and spend a fairly reasonable sum on delicious food through a sort of progressive meal. I imagine thousands show up throughout the single day, and I doubt many leave hungry or disappointed. It was a hot day, but every drop of sweat walking from the Ohio City RTA station to Tremont and back after walking around the festival was completely worth it. In addition to the delicious food we got to experience the feeling as part of a larger community (which hasn't been easy in Cleveland; knowing few people and being detached from the places we grew up). Taking a few hours on a Sunday afternoon to do anything else will almost never be as enjoyable. We even bought a Jade Plant now named "Herbert," who lives on our windowsill. Even if we struck out and only bought bad food, I'd probably still have great things to say. I'm not sure though, that that would actually be possible....
All in all, We ate 5 things:
1. Pork spring rolls from Bac Asian American Bistro- fairly standard, but cooked to perfection and anytime a restaurant offers Sriracha as a dipping sauce, you know it's worth at least trying.
2. Baklava from the Istanbul Grill- suffered from the heat, but the filling was tasty
3. A pork platter (with corn on the cob and cole slaw) from the Ohio Farmers association stand- the "spicy" barbecue sauce was mild and the cole slaw far too acidic, but the corn was delicious and the pork itself absolutely succulent
4. Ice Cream sandwiches (chocolate peanut butter and raspberry cheesecake) from Scoops- I love that they have homemade, vastly varied ice cream sandwiches between decently sized chocolate chip cookies. I wish though, that a flavor like "raspberry cheesecake" wasn't made with a cookie involving chocolate. The chips overpowered the flavor (which was actually a swirl in vanilla ice cream). I can't complain about the texture though. All in all it was a great way to cool down in the heat, albeit a bit heavy to walk around after having ate it..
5. Mac and Cheese with Mint Lemonade from Lolita- This was no ordinary macaroni and cheese. It was a white sauce, probably a combination of 3 or four italian cheeses, heavy on marjoram and rosemary. There's always a chance mass-produced, chafing dish macaroni and cheese will be ruined by the conditions no matter how well it's made. This was certainly not the case with this though. The noodles were perfect and the heat didn't seem to negatively influence the dish at all. As for the lemonade, it was the most perfectly refreshing sugar-based beverage I've ever had, and I think that's because of the delightful mint-essence throughout. It was light and lemony, with a crisp mint finish. Very near perfect.
None of the food was anything but delicious. My favorite was definitely the mac and cheese from Lolita, but I'm biased by my affinity for the Food Network. I think my least favorite was the Baklava because it was too warm out and it fell apart while being too mushy. None of these were significant samplings to judge the overall dining experience at any of these restaurants, but each was good enough to draw me back at some point in the future.
It's interesting to me that Bac fashions itself as an "Asian American" Bistro. I don't know what that means; I suspect it means Asian fusion with some American items on the menu, but, perhaps, it is actually a claim on an ethnic food styling for people specifically Asian American in ethnicity? That would be interesting, to at least get their take on that, if it is indeed the goal.
Lolita is probably the place I'd most like to revisit because it's rare you get to eat food from a literally world renowned chef in your own backyard. It's also probably the most expensive so I might just have to settle on the establishment's offerings at next year's taste of Tremont.
In any event, I'm glad we went and I'll definitely be going back as many years as I can. If you're in Cleveland around the middle of July next year, I highly recommend the experience.
-Zack
Able
Starting today, right now, I plan to post daily. The emphasis in the preceding sentence is on the predicate; "plan." I probably won't succeed in this, so I've actually set a goal to post 3 times per week. Generally speaking, it's not the best idea to start with failure in mind, but I'm being realistic. I'm getting married this fall, planting a chapter, and embracing a new city and all that goes with that. I won't have tons of time. Perhaps you're wondering why I'd even try. It's precisely because of all of those thing that I've got to try.
So, to get to this goal and to generally open my mind to the lot of you 15 or less readers in new and exciting ways, I'm introducing a few new "features" here...Starting roughly this month, I'll be writing about:
1. the places I eat in Cleveland. I've never lived in a city with more than 4 or 5 locally owned restaurants (and if you take out ice cream stands, that number is considerably smaller). There are so many amazing places to eat in Cleveland, and I thought I'd do my part in making that known.
2. the movies I watch. This is something that's been close to my heart since college and I never realized how much I love it til I haven't done it these past 2 years and change.
3. the books I read. I probably won't write extensively on most of them, but I read a lot and exploring where my mind is because of what I read is probably a healthy exercise.
All of this will, of course, come in the course of my usual ponderings on any and everything that comes to mind as I live out this adventure called life. Nothing is really changing, aside from the frequency and the variety. I hope, on the other side of all of this, you have a more enjoyable reading experience when you come here to read whatever it is I write.
-Zack
"It's kinda hard sayin this to your face, so I do it over snares and bass"
-Lil Wayne
So, to get to this goal and to generally open my mind to the lot of you 15 or less readers in new and exciting ways, I'm introducing a few new "features" here...Starting roughly this month, I'll be writing about:
1. the places I eat in Cleveland. I've never lived in a city with more than 4 or 5 locally owned restaurants (and if you take out ice cream stands, that number is considerably smaller). There are so many amazing places to eat in Cleveland, and I thought I'd do my part in making that known.
2. the movies I watch. This is something that's been close to my heart since college and I never realized how much I love it til I haven't done it these past 2 years and change.
3. the books I read. I probably won't write extensively on most of them, but I read a lot and exploring where my mind is because of what I read is probably a healthy exercise.
All of this will, of course, come in the course of my usual ponderings on any and everything that comes to mind as I live out this adventure called life. Nothing is really changing, aside from the frequency and the variety. I hope, on the other side of all of this, you have a more enjoyable reading experience when you come here to read whatever it is I write.
-Zack
"It's kinda hard sayin this to your face, so I do it over snares and bass"
-Lil Wayne
Friday, July 22, 2011
Always
I was, I will admit, fairly disappointed in the final Harry Potter film. The first of the two part adaptation to book 7 was, in many ways, the best film in the series, and I had high hopes for the second. If you read this: http://dulacian.blogspot.com/2009/08/art-coma.html you'll probably realize that I was bound to be disappointed.
One shouldn't ever have too high of expectations for a Harry Potter movie though. As movies go, only three of them even stand up as enjoyable on their own.
But there's a sort of magic to seeing the world of Harry Potter come alive that makes the unconscionable pacing, the terrible acting, and the saddeningly poor camera work null. The characters, the world, the wonder, are just too good to defeat, even with drastically sub-par filmmaking technique. Seeing a Harry Potter movie is experiencing a Harry Potter book in a new way for the first time. Reading any Harry Potter book for the first time was the most enjoyable reading experience I've ever had and the emotions those 7 books can conjure in me is indescribable and incomparable. Even getting to grasp at that for a bit over an hour or so while staring at a screen is worth every penny. No film, I think, could actually capture the Harry Potter experience, so I can't fault any of them too strongly. But I would have loved a better attempt, to be sure.
Even so, I will never stop reading, watching, altogether consuming everything Harry Potter, because there is a wonder there that isn't anywhere else, and it's more true than any fact, more beautiful than any sight, because it happens on the inside, from the inside out, as Harry Potter reveals something in us that has always been there. It's a beautiful mirror, if nothing else. It's a beautiful mirror we can't get anywhere else. Or at least it is for me. Intellectually, there are more stimulating experiences in film and literature. Technically, most people are better writers than J.K. Rowling, I sometimes believe. But spiritually, emotionally, psychologically, philosophically, and metaphysically, nothing else comes close.
As of now, there isn't anything left. No more movies. No more books. I do think they'll remake at least some of the movies, somewhere down the road in 20 years. But it will never be the same.
And yet, I would rather live with the failed attempts to rekindle and the memories, than to never have had them at all. I joined the bandwagon late, but I think that was good. More than anything else, Harry Potter showed me who I am, who I was, who I will become. If I were but 8 when I read the first book, I don't think it would have meant nearly as much. But perhaps I just want to rationalize my failure to grow up with Harry Potter, as so many of my peers did.
But we cannot change the past. I can't go back and tell 8 year old me to read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone right after it came out. The question though, really, is if I would.....
The other day, Alexandra mentioned that she's looking forward to having kids at least in part because we get to relive the wonder of our childhood with them; things like catching lightning bugs and keeping them in jars; tea parties and action figures, believing in Santa. I wonder, in light of all this, if I will introduce Harry Potter early for my kids or not. That is a decision along way off. But in any event, perhaps then, Harry Potter will be a bit of wonder to relive with my kids, and grandkids, and, Lord willing, great-grandkids.
I will never stop reading, and I hope, someday, that means I will never stop introducing Harry, Ron, and Hermione to my own descendants, somewhere down the road.
It was, indeed, a disappointing film. But it was nothing if not a fulfilling experience.
I don't know how. I don't know why. It's just magic.
-Zack
"I'd rather be a comma than a full stop"
-Coldplay
One shouldn't ever have too high of expectations for a Harry Potter movie though. As movies go, only three of them even stand up as enjoyable on their own.
But there's a sort of magic to seeing the world of Harry Potter come alive that makes the unconscionable pacing, the terrible acting, and the saddeningly poor camera work null. The characters, the world, the wonder, are just too good to defeat, even with drastically sub-par filmmaking technique. Seeing a Harry Potter movie is experiencing a Harry Potter book in a new way for the first time. Reading any Harry Potter book for the first time was the most enjoyable reading experience I've ever had and the emotions those 7 books can conjure in me is indescribable and incomparable. Even getting to grasp at that for a bit over an hour or so while staring at a screen is worth every penny. No film, I think, could actually capture the Harry Potter experience, so I can't fault any of them too strongly. But I would have loved a better attempt, to be sure.
Even so, I will never stop reading, watching, altogether consuming everything Harry Potter, because there is a wonder there that isn't anywhere else, and it's more true than any fact, more beautiful than any sight, because it happens on the inside, from the inside out, as Harry Potter reveals something in us that has always been there. It's a beautiful mirror, if nothing else. It's a beautiful mirror we can't get anywhere else. Or at least it is for me. Intellectually, there are more stimulating experiences in film and literature. Technically, most people are better writers than J.K. Rowling, I sometimes believe. But spiritually, emotionally, psychologically, philosophically, and metaphysically, nothing else comes close.
As of now, there isn't anything left. No more movies. No more books. I do think they'll remake at least some of the movies, somewhere down the road in 20 years. But it will never be the same.
And yet, I would rather live with the failed attempts to rekindle and the memories, than to never have had them at all. I joined the bandwagon late, but I think that was good. More than anything else, Harry Potter showed me who I am, who I was, who I will become. If I were but 8 when I read the first book, I don't think it would have meant nearly as much. But perhaps I just want to rationalize my failure to grow up with Harry Potter, as so many of my peers did.
But we cannot change the past. I can't go back and tell 8 year old me to read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone right after it came out. The question though, really, is if I would.....
The other day, Alexandra mentioned that she's looking forward to having kids at least in part because we get to relive the wonder of our childhood with them; things like catching lightning bugs and keeping them in jars; tea parties and action figures, believing in Santa. I wonder, in light of all this, if I will introduce Harry Potter early for my kids or not. That is a decision along way off. But in any event, perhaps then, Harry Potter will be a bit of wonder to relive with my kids, and grandkids, and, Lord willing, great-grandkids.
I will never stop reading, and I hope, someday, that means I will never stop introducing Harry, Ron, and Hermione to my own descendants, somewhere down the road.
It was, indeed, a disappointing film. But it was nothing if not a fulfilling experience.
I don't know how. I don't know why. It's just magic.
-Zack
"I'd rather be a comma than a full stop"
-Coldplay
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