Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Guitar Hero Xmas

Guitar Hero

This Christmas was, as it always is, an endeavor. Two xmas eves, two xmas days, xmas on Saturday. Joy.

But I did receive, from my parents, Guitar Hero World Tour with a dual guitar setup: 2 Les Paul wireless guitars for my 360.

Tasty. Love it.

Questionable news is that because I'm functionally tied to the computer trying to build my business, Little Shambles has seriously become a rock star. She's unlocked like 20 songs on career mode on medium.

And I still can't hit 100% on easy on any song I've tried.

I guess I'll get good next week when I still don't have enough work to keep rolling and need some distraction other than worrying about the mortgage.

For those of you who haven't heard: I'm running a professional web development and web marketing company. And I'm awesome. Contact me. Reasonable pricing includes search engine friendly design. Best practices.

Yay xmas!

Monday, December 29, 2008

Miller's Gospel

And the Angels heralded me. And they herded me. And one named Camael came forward from the masses and ushered me through the door of the Kingdom, held the door open and slammed it shut behind me.

I looked back, then forward. The hall was dark and dank and smelled of frankincense, like Catholic church as a boy. At the end of the close hall, I followed a set of musty, stone stairs. Downward.

At the end of the stairs, a small daemon pushed me forward towards another door. I pushed it open. I walked through. Candles lit the enormous chamber. As I turned around, the door behind me was slammed shut.

The chamber was wide. Open. I knew inherently that it was God's home. At the back of the chamber was a throne. It was empty. I wept.

"Why is God, my only hope of salvation, gone?" I cried.
The throne was empty.
"Oh, I'm here."
"Huh? But where -"
"Why do you -"
"Why can't I see you?!" I shouted
"Why do you need to think I would sit in a throne?"
"I didn't. I was brought here."
"Listen to yourself," said the voice. "This is your place, not mine. Your idea, not mine. Your throne, not mine.
"Which is why I am not in it."

I wandered the room, wondered about the spectacle that was not a spectacle. Pillars of stone surrounded the throne and I wondered, for the first time, where reality was sitting as the throne itself disappeared, the pillars turning to dust.
The room disappeared.
I wept.

Again, the voice, in the darkness:
"There is no church. There is no steeple. There is no room. There is no God."
I paused at the last.
"What do you mean, 'There is no God?' I'm here. You're here. I'm speaking to you, I'm..."
"There are no words for me. God. Allah. El. Jehovah.
"All naming the nameless."

"But I have no reference," I shouted to the nothing.
"But you do," it said.
"You love.
"So you know.
"You don't need a throne and you don't need domination and you - and the world - don't need anything more than it desires or wants or can make due with.
"You already have everything.
"Make it good."

"But that isn't an answer," I shouted to the nothing.
"Then what is?"
And silence.

And it was done. And I realized it myself, sitting in front of a computer, typing words, and I hoped it was enough for me and prayed it was something for someone else.

Stream of What?

I just spent 4 hours driving from Cleveland to Cincinnati and as soon as I got back it was unload, unload, unload, and when we got that done it was unpack, unpack, unpack, and the cats seemed okay despite 5 days alone, so that was good, changed their box, but Mrs. Shambles is sick and I can't do anything directly to help her except perhaps some reiki but that's about energy not viruses and some pills and that's what I just gave her and I'm on the computer looking up unemployment benefits instead of sitting with her and watching tee vee, she's sniffling, and sneezing, and coughing but I keep on with the computer thinking that if I just keep going, keep moving, keep looking up information on the internets, then perhaps, just perhaps, everything will be clear, clear as the glass of our front window.

But the glass of our front window is smeared with dog slobber. And even with crystal clarity, all you see is "outside." And that is reality. And that can be scary. And maybe, just tonight, we'll pretend it's just blackness outside, turn on the tree, and make ourselves comfortable. Just comfortable. And then, maybe, we'll finally be back home.