Category: verse

11 May 2021 — with affection and gratitude to REH

Know O Scholar, that after the Works of Gutenberg,
and before the Rise of the Sons of Kindle,
that there was A Page Undreamed Of, printed and illuminated,
when leather bound and cheap paperbacks
vied for the attentions of avid readers.
Hither came Conan, an Autodidact,
with Gigantic References and Gigantic Card Catalogs,
to shush the Rubes who Chatter without respite and to
Softly Tread Between the Stacks in his Wing-tipped Feet.

Reflections on the Roster of Roberts
Everything I’ve read, or seen or heard or felt, has influenced me as a writer, as an actor, and as a human being.  That’s probably more or less how it works with most of us.  We’re complex, and our mentors are manifold.  It hadn’t occurred to me until recently that probably the strongest influences on me as a novelist all happened to be named Robert.  Other writers influence me, of course, Lethargy Lad has a great deal of Stan Lee in him, and when I’m waxing political I see myself as Mencken or Griggs, but when it comes to narrative fiction, I find the Roberts to be my steadiest guides.  (I flatter myself, of course.)  For tone, or voice, I try to channel Heinlein – suspicious, curmudgeonly, and relentlessly optimistic.  As well as goopily sentimental at times.  For narrative grace, I aim for Howard.  Though his vast catalogue of stories leans heavily on mundane or preposterous tropes, I find him to be among the most vividly lyrical of writers overall, holding his own against such luminaries as Shakespeare, Fielding, Poe, or Lewis.  Finally, for actual story structure, I think Altman is my man.  I try to tell a story mostly from the ground up, using a multitude of perspectives from disparate and distinctive characters, whose arcs ravel together into a broader story that none of them fully knows, and many will never suspect.

17 April 2021

Proper “secular hymns” are few and far between, so sometimes I have to accept small compromises in some of the lyric or music quality.  But if it otherwise meets my criteria, I am eager to embrace it. 

When it comes to “spirituality” I guess you could say that I’m a Dawkinsian.  As an atheist materialist, I am neither depressed by, nor resentful of, my mortality.  I don’t approve of it, either, but I get it; it’s the way entropy works on Earth.  If it weren’t so, I wouldn’t exist in the first place.  Still, like Richard Dawkins, I’m not depressed because I have to die, I’m delighted that I get to die, because that means that I have LIVED.  I was one of the lucky few who manifested a consciousness from this organic soup, and I get to experience a tiny fraction of the wonders of the universe.  Even if our parents are intent on procreating, assuming they ever meet, the odds against us are still billions to one.

For me, a proper secular hymn captures that aspect of our existence.  As we are poised between existence and oblivion, between civilization and savagery, between mud and mind, between matter and spirit – may we experience joyous gratitude for it all.  And while Johnny Cash, as a professed Christian himself, may not fully endorse my interpretation of his work, I have no hesitation in recommending it.

Herewith, selections from the “official”
Secular Hymnal of Matthew 6:6 Ministries,
as selected and fully endorsed by Rector Lawrence,

Flesh and Blood, by Johnny Cash (1970)

Beside a singing mountain stream, where the willow grew,
Where the silver leaf of maple sparkled in the morning dew.
I braided twigs of willow, made a string of buckeye beads.
But flesh and blood needs flesh and blood, and you’re the one I need.

I leaned against a bark of birch and I breathed the honey dew.
I saw north bound flock of geese against a sky of baby blue.
Beside the lily pads I carved a whistle from a reed,
Mother Nature’s quite a lady, but you’re the one I need.

A cardinal sang just for me, and I thanked him for the song,
And the sun went slowly down the west and I had to move along.
These were some of the things on which my mind and spirit feed,
But flesh and blood needs flesh and blood, and you’re the one I need.

So, when the day was ended, I was still not satisfied,
For I knew everything I touched, would wither and would die.
And love is all that will remain and grow from all these seeds,
Mother Nature’s quite a lady, but you’re the one I need.
Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood, and you’re the one I need.

Material Girl, by Peter Brown & Robert Rans (1984)

Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me, I think they’re okay.
If they don’t give me proper credit I just walk away.
They can beg and they can plead but they can’t see the light, that’s right!
Because the boy with the cold hard cash is always Mr Right.
‘Cause we are living in a material world and I am a material girl.

Some boys romance, some boys slow dance, that’s all right with me,
If they can’t raise my interest, then I have to let them be.
Some boys try and some boys lie, but I don’t let them play, no way!
Only boys that save their pennies make my rainy day.
‘Cause we are living in a material world, and I am a material girl.

Boys may come and boys may go and that’s all right you see.
Experience has made me rich and now they’re after me.
‘Cause everybody’s living in a material world and I am a material girl.

Something Tame and Something Wild,
by Mary Chapin Carpenter (2016)

There’s a shoebox full of letters, bound up neatly with some twine.
Each one was like a diamond, now the jewel is lost to time.
My reward is in the knowing that I held it in my hands for a little while.
What else is there but the treasures in your heart,
Something tame and something wild.

For every time that I’d been foolish when I wished that I’d been wise.
The power of regret still gets me right between the eyes.
Sometimes I want to weep with nothing but the tears of a little child.
What else is there but the lessons of your heart,
Something tame and something wild.

There’s a map I’ve memorized of everywhere I’ve ever been,
And the faces of everyone I’ve loved and left to try again,
I couldn’t make out what they were saying,
So instead, I listened hard to what’s inside.
What else is there but the voice inside your heart,
Something tame and something wild?

Some nights I’m woken up by something stirring in my chest,
It’s a feeling I’ve no name for, it’s hard to catch my breath.
I’m staring down the great big lonesome,
As I’m listening for the dwindling of time.
What else is there but the echoes in your heart,
Something tame and something wild.

So the things that matter to me now are different from the past,
I care less about arriving than just being in the path
Of some life carved out of nothing,
The way it feels when the universe has smiled.
What else is there but the beating of your heart,
Something tame and something wild.

There’s a shoebox full of letters, there’s the map I won’t forget,
The voices and the lessons and the signals that connect us
Manifestly to the spirit way deep down where it goes unseen by the eye.
What else is there but the love inside your heart,
To a life, like a fireworks to a spark, over and above you in its arc,
Something tame and something wild.

disclaimers:  These authors quoted above are not being compensated (beyond publicity) for my inclusion of their works here.   (If you like it, buy their stuff!)

more?
The Long Way Home, by Mary Chapin Carpenter
The Greatest Love, by Jane Olivor
Sing!, by Joe Raposo
Oh Very Young, by Cat Stevens (aka Yusef Israel)

16 August 2021

correspondent KW avers that “almost every atheist” she knows has adopted “statism as their religion” whose adherents’ zeal exceeds others’.

Other correspondents confirm her observations, and JH concludes that “when people stopped believing in God they replaced it with the state.”

I thank KW for that “almost.” Broadly defined (including the occasional weaselly “agnostic” or trying-to-impress-chicks “Christian Existentialist” phases I may or may not have gone through) I have been a consistent atheist and anarchist for most of my life. Just never was in me to subordinate my ego to states or gods or teammates. As far as I can tell, theism and statism are both symptoms of the same emotional disorder — wishful thinking. I don’t believe that the magicks of either prayer or voting have any powers beyond the palliative.

30 July 2021
Gotta get me a paddle, and a canoe.
Gonna paddle myself right back to you!
Gonna paddle my ass ’til it’s black and blue,
And then maybe I’ll be worthy of you.

27 April 2018 — “NASA is back!
You know what it is?  It’s great.  It’s science.  Important.”
Donal Ivan Fredovitch Trumpchev

5 February 2021

It is stipulated (generally by theists, miscalling atheists and agnostics) that “Scientism” is “the religious belief that is underpinned by faith in the scientific establishment,” and that it “has its own customs and nomenclature,” and clergy who “are known as ‘scientists.'” A particular proponent of this thesis also avers that “most believers don’t even know their own scripture.” On that latter point I cannot help but agree, probably in the matter of all faiths, let alone alleged “scientism.”

And no, they don’t mean “Scientologists.” The proponents make that clear as well. (I suspect they get credit for being seekers or something.) Their “scientismics” are those of us who buy into the moon landing or thermodynamics or vaccines or electricity or the heliocentric model. Especially the heliocentric model.

Contra their thesis, I would assert that very few (if any) actual scientists could be scientismics. Other than that one point, I’m happy to accept their definition. But it seems to me the real scientismics would be the troofers and the flerfers and the chemtrailers and others who would misuse the trappings of science to “support” fantasies like the flat earth or modern monetary theory.

update 210223: haunting suspicions enquire:
Is “flerfer” as offensive to flat earthers as “troofer” is to “9-11 Truthers?”
Or as funny as “magic bullet” is to the Deep State?

210317 — Vaccine! (meter stolen from Dolly Parton)

Vaccine!  Rapine!  It’s all obscene!
Please don’t shoot me up with RNA.
No unknown sera in my arm, I know you say it does no harm,
But you won’t say what side effects are seen.
Hank Aaron put it to the test, and now he takes his final rest,
But you can’t blame it on our great vaccine.
Ol’ Marvin Hagler took his shot, and with us further he is not,
But it’s because you skeptics are so mean!