Religious WHAT?

desire
Originally uploaded by lapeet1.

I had a conversation with a customer today that left me speechless for a few moments. You're probably surprised. You'll understand in a moment.

We were talking, catching up as it were, doing the thing where I act interested in his family and so forth. I asked him about his daughter (she's HAWT, by the way) who's currently enrolled at a super-selective private university.

"Yeah, she's doing great. She started out studying public policy, but now she's really into religious sex."

Huh? I didn't say anything for several moments. Usually there is a lively banter between the customer and me. The silence stretched on... and on.

I gathered my wits, "So, John, how 'bout that expansion module you guys had talked about? Still hiring some more folks this fall? You'll need the capacity."

Yeah. He shocked me. Until I realized that he had said "SECTS" not "SEX".

I called him back after about an hour to clarify. We had a good laugh and then he explained. She's studying modern religious ideologies, I think, or something. Much less interesting than... well, you know.

Technorati Tags:religious sex, religious sects, sects, homonyms

"Adult" book stores

nashvilleX3
Originally uploaded by ihaveabuginmyeye.

I confess, I've been in an adult book store. I was disappointed. They not one copy of War and Peace, The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, Pride and Prejudice, Silas Marner, or even Gone with the Wind. They did have some interesting titles though.

Seriously. "Adult Book Store" is a bad name for what these places are, I think. "Adult Books" conjures in my mind an image of a slightly cluttered, dusty bookshop full of heavy tomes with weighty titles. I don't know what a better euphemism would be, though. It still should be something innocuous sounding -- maybe something like "Porn Store" or "Filthy Book Palace". Would those be clear enough?

Tori and Jeff and I were at the lake one weekend and had passed the book place a few times on our way back and forth. Tori suggested that we might stop -- that it might be interesting. Now, I hate to pass judgement on an entire industry based on one experience, but this place was CREEPY. Perhaps "stores" in Memphis would be more up-scale and less trashy, but this place, outside of Paris, was plain skank. The decor wasn't all that horrible -- it had a crummy-video-store kind of feel which doesn't bother me since I'm from a small town with no chain video stores (all our video stores are crummy), but the clientèle just FREAKED me... Granted, we didn't look like the a million bucks (we'd been on the lake part of the day and had showered, but not "fixed ourselves up" to go out), but some of the folks hanging out in this establishment looked as if they'd climbed from under a rock somewhere.

Anyway, we wandered in, were warmly greeted by the proprietress, and proceeded to look around. I was particularly fascinated by the "Toy" section. Tori kept telling me not to touch anything -- but I couldn't help myself. There, sitting on a shelf available to the whole world (or at least the part of the world willing to stop at such a distinctive establishment), was the molded silicon replica of some woman's (a famous "star" of the adult film industry, no doubt) nether regions. I picked a safe place to poke my finger -- a thigh, I think -- and was amazed at the texture. Didn't feel like any woman I'd ever poked. I guess, if you're buying silicon woman parts, authenticity isn't that big of a thing -- after all, if you NEED silicon woman parts, you likely don't have a real woman with which to compare it.

We didn't buy anything. If they'd had a T-Shirt, I might have bought one... I was gonna ask about souvenir t-shirts of key-chains, but Tori wouldn't let me.

We smiled politely, thanked the lady for letting us look around, and leaped into the car leaving a cloud of dust and thrown gravel hoping that no one from home (especially the preacher) recognized our car.

Technorati Tags:Adult Book Store, Porn, Stories, Travel, Interesting

Schoolhouse Rockin' Aunt Rete

Aunt Rete is a regular guest at our house for Sunday lunch. We have a fairly traditional lunch almost every Sunday -- Dad cooks, we sit around the table for an hour or so, and then progress into the den for more conversation.

Somehow, today, we got off on the subject of old cartoon. We talked about the Gummi Bears, Garfield, Fraggle Rock, and others. Samuel, trying to add something to the conversation, asked about Schoolhouse Rock -- he'd learned a few songs for something he did at school (a skit or some-such). He started demonstrating while sitting next to Aunt Rete. She didn't seem amused.



Don't tell Sam this is up here -- he'd be embarrassed.

Technorati Tags:Fraggle Rock, Schoolhouse Rock, Video, Sunday Dinner

Saying "I Love You"

"Death is a challenge. It tells us not to waste time... It tells us to tell each other right now that we love each other."
-Leo F. Buscaglia

I love. I love earnestly, deeply, tenderly, and without any expectations of reward. I love easily. The way that I love has caused me some heartache and heartbreak over the years, but on the whole, I think I'm happier.

Those of you who know me, my friends, know that I often (more often than not) end a conversation saying, "I love you." For some of you this has been off-putting at times. I have a certain "macho" friend who literally freaked the first time I told him that I loved him. I backed off a bit and didn't try it again for a while. Several months later he said to me, "Nathan, do you love me?" "Of course," I told him. "I love you too," he said. He almost always tells me that he loves me now -- he'll beat me to the punch on the phone.

I love. And I want you to know that I love you. To live in this world, today, in a time that is uncertain in so many ways (and I'm not even talking about eschatologically uncertain times), it is important to let people know that we love them. Yes, I love all people generally -- that's why it's so easy for me to rationalize bad behavior in others, to let personal slights and insults go, to accept people as they are, but I also love people specifically. Like family.

I have friends that I call "brother" or "sister". If I could pick my family, these people would be it. You know the kind of relationship I'm talking about. These are the people I wouldn't want or choose to live without; these are the people who keep me sane and keep me grounded. It's a short list, but I think I have more of these kinds of relationships than most. I talk to some people about their closest friends and I have discovered that many people don't have the kind of relationships I describe with ANYONE. I pity them. Who can read their minds and their souls? Who can hear their voice and immediately detect joy or heartache even when they're trying to hide it?

We need close friendships. We need love in our lives -- and not the EROS, bum-chica-wow-wow kind. Sure, there's a place for that -- a big place -- but that kind of love does not sustain us, that kind of love doesn't last (it comes in waves, even in committed relationships). For many people, married or committed people, their closest friend is their spouse or partner. That's not inappropriate -- in fact, it makes live a joy. To love, on multiple levels, the person you're spending your life with is a gift.

If a man should importune me to give a reason why I loved him, I find it could no otherwise be expressed, than by making answer: because it was he, because it was I.
- Michel de Montaigne

I try to love, we should try to love, without any expectations. That's a hard thing to grasp for some people. So many relationships (what some people might call "friendships" but I'll prefer to call "acquaintance") are based on mutual benefit. You give, I give, we both get something. That's fine, but it puts an invisible burden on a relationship. We should love purely, without expectation of reward or benefit. This is hard, yes, but in the end, if you're disappointed in a friend, you can say to yourself, "I love this person; I shouldn't expect anything of them but love in return."

More generally, we should love EVERYONE without expectation. The man on the street, the asshole who cuts you off in traffic, the dipsh*t that won't shut up in the elevator (and he's there every day)... When we decide to love people, all people, we let anger slough off of our souls like a second skin and I promise that we're happier. Some of you have heard me say, "I'm not angry, I'm disappointed." That sounds like something a parent would say, but it's the truth in my case (most of the time). I am more often disappointed than I am angry -- and disappointment is not a sin in any religion that I can find. Anger is an emotion; disappointment is a learning experience.

I love tenderly. I'm a soft-hearted kind of guy. When those I love hurt, I hurt. When they are disappointed in life, I find myself disappointed. Sympathy? Empathy? I dunno, but, that's what love SHOULD be. When we love, our hearts resonate with the songs in the hearts of others. I'm supposedly easy to read. A friend told me recently (on several occasions) that she can "read my face like a book". I don't know about that -- she didn't do so well if you ask me -- but it's true that those who know me well (perhaps those who love me?) *can* hear in my voice, see in my face, observe in my behavior my TRUE mood (and not the one I'm projecting to the general public). Tender love is gentle and caring, not pushy and abrasive. Tender love caresses our hurts and cheers our joys.

I love easily and readily. More than two years ago, I was reintroduced to a young woman who I'd met several months before. She went with me and some friends to eat and then to hang out. When we dropped her off at her apartment, I got out to walk her to the walk (I didn't go to the door). She thanked me for the invitation and I hugged her -- I stepped back, looked into her eyes, kissed her forehead and said, "I love you." She looked at me strangely, with a slight grin on her face, and blushed. I meant it -- right then. I'd spent several hours with her, only several hours, and I realized in that time that *this* was one of the most important people I'd ever meet in my life. This was not a false revelation. She has become a true friend, one of the people I'm closest to in the world.

We should be ready to love. We should be open to love. If I had sent out applications for "best friends", I doubt I would have picked the young woman above. If I had not been ready to love, easily and readily, I might not have recognized her value and worth. As it was, I was ready, our hearts were open, and most amazingly, they resonate now, almost two years later on the same frequency, they sing different parts of the same song.

So... I say, "I love you." I mean it. I say it often, but it doesn't mean less -- it means more. I am not afraid to love; I am not afraid to admit I love. I fear a future without love; I fear a future without my friends.

Receive love with an open heart. Tell people you love them. Love without expectation, deeply, tenderly, earnestly, purely, simply.

Technorati Tags:love, friendship, relationships, sappy

Come on, ring that bell

The only people who ever ring my doorbell are the police, evangelists, and people selling stuff (I guess evangelists are sort of selling stuff). I don't like it. I don't like company. I don't like people "dropping by" or any of that mess. I'm single and male. My house is a wreck. It's not a bio-hazard; I trash food scraps, etc, but there's mail everywhere, books piled up waist high, no room on my couch, etc.

When the bell rings early Saturday morning, I assume it's the police delivering a "package". I get a packet from City Hall every two weeks with reports, agendas, and so forth. I don't normally bother dressing for the police: I just scamper down the hall and throw open the door. The officer gets the pleasure of seeing me in all my unclothed glory. If I'm wearing skimpy underclothes and I'm feeling charitable, I might throw on a pair of "sleeping shorts".

I've found that answering the door nearly naked discourages evangelists from returning. I'm guessing they have a list somewhere and I'm on it: Single/Male, answers door naked, crazed expression

My hair is generally nuts in the morning. To the left is an illustrative picture of how I look when I'm first woken up. It was taken in 2004, but except for no beard and less hair on my head, it's pretty much dead-on. I look like a nearly naked drug-crazed maniac. To enhance the effect, I generally smile broadly when I see new people and giggle to myself softly the whole time they're plying their Jesus.

The no-clothes-maniac routine works so well, I've started stripping when people ring my bell even in the middle of the day, afternoon, or evening. I quickly wet my hands, muss up my hair, and shuffle to the door. I know I've accomplished my goal when whomever is calling jumps back in horror when I fling open the door and start grinning like a nut. If I could only smell worse...

Several months ago, I went bowling on a Friday night. Had a great time. That Saturday morning I woke up early (heaven knows why), and was milling around the house, dressed in the clothes I'd worn the night before. I SMELLED like I'd spent the night in a strip-joint. Not hard to imagine, really: The bowling alley was filled with smoke and I had perspired in my clothes that night. I heard some folks shuffling around outside and opened the door just as an elderly gentleman with a light-bulb was about to ring the bell.

Evangelists. They must not have gotten the memo. He looked shocked at my appearance (even though I was fully clothed, I probably had food stains and I know my hair was a wreck). He and hist little band of proselytizers stepped back when the smell hit them. "Uh, good morning, sir, I'm sorry to have woken you, but I'd like to invite you to our special services this week." Giggling, I replied, "No, you didn't wake me hahahahahah I've been up for HOURS!" He handed me the light-bulb, simultaneously backing away, "Jesus is the light of the world. We'll pray for you." They left rather quickly. I put the bulb in a burned out fixture in my den.

Technorati Tags:evangelists, waking up, scary, morning

Saying "I'm Sorry"

Never ruin an apology with an excuse. ~Kimberly Johnson

The other week I had a long conversation with a friend of mine who had made a mistake. I don't recall the mistake, but she was heartbroken. She had hurt a friend and didn't know how to fix it. She explained to me the circumstances and kept providing reasons for her actions. I remember stopping her and saying, "Dear, there should be no 'BUT' after 'I'm Sorry'." I could tell she was already rehearsing her apology with me.

Before someone accuses me of twisting facts or thinly veiling my thoughts: I honestly don't remember who she was -- I remember it being a girl. I also don't remember what the mistake was.

I'm really good at apologizing. I've had to be; I make so many mistakes that I get plenty of practice. Often, when someone walks up to me, I begin apologizing immediately. It's safer that way. I'm almost always sure I've done something wrong.

I've learned that the shortest apology is the best: "I'm sorry." Especially with women. Trying to explain one's actions is a sure fire way to make a woman madder.

It's okay to define what you're apologizing for, but be careful. If you say, "I'm sorry for backing over your flowers with my bulldozer," and the person isn't mad about that, but rather, is mad because their pet hamster was in the flowers at the time, you may come off as insensitive. If someone is angry and you're hoping an apology will make it better, be sure why they're angry before you start.

I'll state the obvious: Don't apologize unless you're sincere. Nothing is worse than an insincere apology. If you regret your actions, admit it. If you're not sincere, don't bother opening your mouth, please. Notice, I didn't write, "If you regret the consequences of your actions," above. Apologizing to get what YOU want or to make YOU feel better is a lame-ass reason to apologize. You should apologize simply because you were wrong or because you hurt someone.

Back to the "but" of this story: Seriously, we often take the meat out of an apology by saying "but" after "I'm sorry". Trying to place the blame elsewhere invalidates an apology. To apologize means to admit that YOU have made a mistake -- it's no one's fault but your own. Allow the person you're apologizing to provide an excuse; often times they will when they figure out you're not trying to weasel out of it with a "but" statement. If they don't provide an excuse, don't fret. You've done your part -- you've admitted your mistake and taken responsibility for it. The proper response to an offered apology is to accept it. The proper response to an apology is to forgive.

Technorati Tags:I'm sorry, apology, relationships

None for me, thank you, I'm sucking toads

Damien Rice - 2879
Originally uploaded by mjecker.

I had a chance to see Damien Rice in concert tonight. I could have seen him from seats in the first few rows, center, at the Orpheum Theater in Memphis.

I knew he was coming to Memphis several months ago and I mentioned to a friend of mine, a concert promoter, that I'd like some good seats. My hope was that she could finagle me some orchestra seats, fairly close, at a good price. She called last week and left me a voicemail: "Hey, I've got you some tickets. Dead center somewhere in the first 10 rows. Call me back." I didn't call her. I knew already that I would be in Conway this week.

I suppose I could have driven from Conway to Memphis tonight, but it would have been irresponsible and a fairly arduous journey. I also knew that I probably couldn't find anyone willing to put up with the hassle of meeting me there under such strange circumstances. Adrienne might have met me, but...

So, Damien is singing in Memphis and I'm in stuck in the home of the Toad Suck Daze Festival. "No, no tickets for me, please, I'm sucking toads in Arkansas." I thought about calling Andrea (my friend with tickets back) with that reply. I thought again and it occurred to me I might need tickets to something else and I shouldn't make a joke of refusing the tickets. Thank you for the offer, Andrea, perhaps next time.

You know when you've found it,
There's something I've learned
'Cause you feel it when they take it away
- "Amie" by Damien Rice

Technorati Tags:Damien Rice, Memphis, Concert, Music