Blurry

Spin, spin, spin

Flowing shiny gold dress

and glittery eye shadow

Soak in the glamour, paparazzi

Drink in the bright lights and camera clicks

Revel in the glory of the night

Duck into the silver BMW

Soft purr of the engine, vroom says

the accelerator

Zig-zag down Lombard Street at night

A river of golden water

Smoother faster champagne black sleek phone

rings, rings laughter faster faster

Brake! slam harder no stop

I can't stop

Slam crash blood death

Tears red on gold

Black dress

Looking Up and Down

I was discussing with my dad how I wanted to start an intellectual club this summer: we would meet at cute little coffee shops, read some Billy Collins, discuss an article from Patrick Henry Reardon or another great Christian thinker of the day, maybe debate current political issues. I thought he'd be thrilled. But instead he asked, "So what are you guys going to do for others?"

The question struck me as absurd. Who cares? We were in our profound little coffee shop, having profound little conversations about profound little thoughts. What did the rest of society matter? I thought he was being overly pragmatic, failing to recognize the beauty of argumentation and intellect.

Did Jesus tell his followers to form an intellectual group and discuss the importance of loving neighbors? No; he simply told them to do it. Did he tell them to think about the aesthetic value of going and telling peoples of the world the Good News? No; he just told them to do it.

I'm an idealist and philosophizer: I try to create profundity out of virtually anything, and I often find myself disillusioned with the postmodern world. Yet at times I get so wrapped up in my profundity that I became selfish. I like my deep thoughts; I don't like exiting my deep world of contemplation to look out for others. Ironic as it seems, idealism and contemplation can cause a person to reach a point of sole self-interest.

A man cannot spend his whole life looking up at the heavens; neither can he merely look down at the ground. A wise man strikes a balance between admiring the greatness the mind can imagine as well as applying that knowledge to practical situations.

Pedestal

He spoke. He was young; he was pure; he was knowledgeable; he was witty; he was decisive. She thirsted for his wisdom like a lamb longing to suckle its mother's milk. There was no question he didn't have an answer for. He explained why the earth revolved around the sun; why the Framers did not create a democracy; why tragedies were cathartic; why injustice exists. In him was truth, beauty, understanding, goodness. He was the solution to global hunger, the Grail that knights perished for, the Alpha and the Omega. He was a man.

She stared into his eyes, captivated like teenage Miranda gazing upon the male body for the first time. Oh Heaven, that has showered me with such blessed beauty! Oh Justice, that has delivered me from these shackles of confusion to the freedom of knowing! Called out of weakness, succumbing to the glory of this man's marvelous might! Oh God!

But when tempests talked, he replied; when temptation said hello, he conversed; when sin smiled, he laughed. The decadent pleasure of lust he devoured. Oh, discreetly, of course. But his short happy life he could not forever conceal. She heard. She wept the salty tears of revelation and false hope. What hope, without the god she once adored? Oh save her, call her from the cyclical abyss she knows too well.