It's the ancillary work you don't think about at the outset

This evening, during that crazy Mizzou game (Dear Memphis, had you ever seen a defence before?), I worked this up for the novel I'm working on (yay having a part time job to allow times for to be writing!). It's heavily based on Young's Literal Translation. I changed a couple of words here and there to stronger syonyms, modified most of the punctuation, and omited needless words (Thanks, Messrs Strunk, White!), but I did keep as much of the sweet grammar of the translation as I could. Sections of this piece will serve as chapter notation in the first half of the novel. Thought I'd share it with you, since it'll be months before I can share any of the actual work with anyone, and sharing is really motivating for me, re: artistic endevours. (By-the-by, the whole pre-Noah section of this first book is pretty much my favorite passage in the whole collection. I love the untouchable mystery of stories told through the eyes of ancient peoples about times even more ancient, times that would otherwise outside the realm of history.)



In the Beginning
(Of the Elohim's preparing the heavens, the earth)

The earth had existed waste and void,
darkness on the face of the deep,
the Spirit of the Elohim fluttering on the face of the waters.

And the Elohim says,
'Let light be.'
Light is.
The Elohim sees the light good,
separates between the light, the darkness,
calls to the light, 'Day.'
To the darkness he has called, 'Night.'
There is an evening; there is a morning --
day one.

And the Elohim says,
'Let an expanse be in the midst of the waters,
let it be separating between waters and waters.
The Elohim makes the expanse;
it separates between the waters-under-the-expanse,
the waters the expanse.
It is so:
The Elohim calls to the expanse, 'Heavens.'
There is an evening; there is a morning --
day second.

And the Elohim says,
'Let the waters-under-the-heavens
be collected unto one place.
Let the dry land be seen.'
It is so:
The Elohim calls to the dry land, `Earth.'
To the collection of the waters He has called, `Seas.'
The Elohim sees good.
The Elohim says, `Let the earth yield tender grass,
herb sowing seed,
fruit-tree (seed in itself) making fruit
on the earth.'
It is so:
the earth brings forth tender grass,
herb sowing seed
tree making fruit (seed in itself).
The Elohim sees good.
There is an evening; there is a morning --
day third.

And the Elohim says,
'Let luminaries be in the expanse of the heavens
to make a separation between the day, the night,
for signs, for seasons, for days, for years,
luminaries in the expanse of the heavens
to give light upon the earth.'
It is so:
the Elohim makes the two great luminaries,
the great luminary for the reign of the day,
the small luminary and the stars for the reign of the night.
The Elohim gives them in the expanse of the heavens
to give light upon the earth,
to reign over day, over night,
to make a separation between the light,
the darkness.
The Elohim sees good.
There is an evening; there is a morning --
day fourth.

And the Elohim says,
'Let the waters teem with the teeming-living-creature.
Fowl, let fly on the earth,
on the face of the expanse of the heavens.'
The Elohim prepares the great monsters,
every living-creature-that-is-creeping which the waters have teemed with,
every fowl-with-wing.
The Elohim sees good,
blesses them, saying,
'Be fruitful, multiply,
fill the waters in the seas.
The fowl, let multiply in the earth.'
There is an evening; there is a morning --
day fifth.

And the Elohim says,
'Let the earth bring forth the living creature,
cattle, creeping thing, beast-of-the-earth.'
It is so:
the Elohim makes the beast-of-the-earth,
the cattle, every creeping thing of the ground.
The Elohim sees good.
The Elohim says,
'Let us make human in our image, according to our likeness.
Let them rule over fish of the sea,
over fowl of the heavens, over cattle,
over all the earth,
over every creeping thing creeping on the earth.'
The Elohim prepares the human in his image;
in the image of the Elohim he prepared him,
a male and a female he prepared them.
The Elohim blesses them,
says to them, 'Be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth. Subdue it.
Rule over fish of the sea,
over fowl of the heavens,
over every living thing creeping upon the earth.'
The Elohim says, `Look around, I have given to you
every herb sowing seed upon the face of all the earth,
every tree, the fruit of a tree sowing seed.
To you it is for food.
And to every beast of the earth,
to every fowl of the heavens,
to every creeping thing on the earth in which breath of life,
every green herb for food:'
It is so.
The Elohim sees all that he has done very good.
There is an evening; there is a morning --
day the sixth.

The heavens, the earth are completed, all their host.
The Elohim completes by the seventh day.
His work which he has made ceases by the seventh day,
all his work which he has made.
The Elohim blesses the seventh day,
sanctifies it, for in it, he has ceased from all his work
which the Elohim had prepared for making.

Never easy.

I've taken down two wall hangings this week. One of them is a huge orangey-red Celtic knot, faded from washing after it got all dirty and wet when the ceiling caved in. It happened a couple of years ago, and was a direct result of water pouring through the ceiling of our old place, as upstairs pipes burst during a 50 degree warm snap. At this apartment, it hung above the antique mirror from my Omi that we set above our bed like a headboard. Now the wall is white and there is a gray crack running up from the floor that someone patched once upon a time.

The other hanging I took down is the vintage British flag that hung above the computer. Next time you see one, look to see how the stripes are uneven. The red against white is shifted to the counter-clockwise side. Having one in the house, you notice things like that .Jones's parents brought it back from England in the 70s, and she gave it to us when she moved in with Eric, what with being married and all. As I took it down, I wondered why we hang it. I was careful to have Jill sew on some loops to the upper corners so we didn't have to punch holes in it. Something about respect. I wonder if we should do something to make it an art piece, rather than just a massive hanging reminder of the existence of another country; I mean, we are no great anglophiles. Maybe we should paint "Jesus is bigger" on it, and get an American flag, and do the same. Hang them on opposite walls. I doubt that will happen, true as it may be. BUt it's fun to think about it.

The wall is empty where the flag used to be, too, and you can see the boarded up door that leads to the stairs to the neighbor's place above us. There are holes in the wall, where we miscalculated the height of nails. Apparently, we've covered a lot of imperfections with decorations.

The bookshelves that cover the window in the computer room so Jill wasn't as cold when she was studying French this winter are also empty, except for a couple of straggling knick-knacks and our copy of the board game Dominion.

See, we are moving.

On Sunday afternoons, before church, our friends stop in to drop off food for after, or sit on our couch and talk. They park in our driveway, and if you've been to Jacob's Well, directions are easy. You can see the building from our kitchen window. One of the biggest reasons we moved here was to be close to that building -- brick, with Scopes-era crenelations. Sometimes, late at night, Shayne is sneaking in for late night pastor stuff, and I am taking out the trash, and when I call out to him, maybe he thinks it's God saying hello. When I'm hanging out with the youth upstairs Sunday mornings, and there is a book I want to loan one of them, or we are done early, and I want to grab a game to play, it's a quick walk back, hardly knew I was gone. We jokingly named our wi-fi network The Rectory. After church, I invite someone over. "It's right there," I say. "Come have tacos. Play a game or have a good talk." And they do.

All of this is a matter of convenience, I realize. But it has been a beneficial convenience. I've seen life spring up here and there like the surprise lilies are just now pushing up in the back yard. Lots of friendships deepened over "Come on over." I am going to miss the convenience of living "right there."

But it's more than just an amazing location. This is where we had Jill's balloon party, when the balloons came down the next day, and wandered around the house like they had minds of their own. The doorway to our bedroom is where I last saw some friends of mine happy in their relationship before it went sour, talking about the election with another couple, two players on a debate team. This is the home of "The Noodle Game." This is the house I thought we'd only get pushed out of by our first kid. This is the bathroom I get allergic to in the spring, and the closet you get your clothes out of pre-shower in the winter, believe me. This is the basement we cleaned two trash bags of dust out of. This is the front porch we played late-summer-night Settlers on. I hid under one set of stairs and on another set in a game of sardines over Christmas. This is the house I came home to when I got laid off, and the house I couldn't get to sleep in when I didn't get that youth job I wanted so much. This is the house I've felt more at home in than any other.

Yeah, I am excited about the new place, new opportunities, new location, new layout, new roommates, 9/14ths rent, where the hangings will go up, etc, etc, amen. Really, really, I am. But I'll you all about that some other time.

For now, I'm going to miss this place. Really, really, I am.

Bigger than a The Beatles reunion, tour, I kid you not.

I watched the first, say, 30 episodes of Rosie O'Donnell's daytime TV show. Weird, I know. But it was funny and fresh back in the day, and she shot koosh balls at the audience, and koosh balls rule. I thought to myself at the time, "If I'm ever famous, when I'm doing the talk show circuit, I will go on Rosie's show, and be like, I saw all the first episodes of your show. I am not a poser, or whatever. Also, can I have a Koosh?"

Around the same time, watching a lot of talk shows, I noticed that people with a thing to plug had a very clear path ahead of them. Laid out by publicists and their ilk. You had to go on all these shows, and some had good interviewers (Letterman (we didher show like Jonathon Ross; it'll be HUGE)) and some had terrible interviewers (Has any guest ever gotten a full interesting sentence out in the presense of Regis Philbin?). You'd see someone on a popular morning show on Monday, and by Friday they'd pop up after midnight. I remember thinking to myself, "If I'm ever famous, I will go on the best shows first, rather than save them for last. So, for example, Leno and Letterman and especially the Today Show could wait, Imo goin' on Conan day one."

All that to say, omygosh you guys, Andy Richter's gonna be on the Tonight Show with Conan. Squee!

Rhetorical question, short hand for same rheotrical question, rhetorical answer, tell a friend.

First posts back from long blog hiatuses are supposed to be about the events of the interim, supposed to apologize for it being so long since the last post, tell you stories about how the author thought a lot about writing, but life got in the way at first, and then the habit fell away, and you, dear readers, should be grateful that the blog has continued at all.

Whatever.

Besides one justifiable dalliance on my birthday, this blog has, I admit, lain dormant since the day I got waylaid on the way out of the cubicle row with lunch on my mind and sent to a meeting where we were told by a man with a creepily thick neck whose position in the power-structure of my brain is still "company stooge whose unintentional Simon Pegg movie quotations asked me to shill our now terminal Previa out for the company" that everyone in the room was getting laid off. Among these fine people were the company party planning committee (one woman), the only man I've ever seen actually enjoying long conversations with real estate agents mid-tech-support-call, and the guy who took more calls on average than any other tech, and who once spent 20 minutes chewing out an AOL technician who refused to allow a user the basic email functionality to receive emails that they themselves were sending from another email account because it "might be spam" (SIR, this woman is sending the email, please do your job as an email provider and allow her to get emails that she herself is sending! She is telling you that she wants to get a particular email, there is no more basic function of your job than to let her do this!), among plenty of other fine people. So, the creepy neck guy who had just waltzed in to say his little speech about the importance doing his dead wife proud by winning Village of the Year again, or whatever it was, I wasn't really paying attention, waltzed right back out to go lean over a desk in a glass-doored office next door and look important with the new execs. That morning they'd also just laid off the entire executive team, which was a nice gesture to the rest of us, I'll admit, but I'm not sure what good it actually did. Then again, I don't really care how the company does anymore. Surpisring, I know.

And that day set in motion an over-3-month ordeal of trying to collect unemployment benefits while emptying what paltry savings we had, and relying quite heavily on the kindness of strangers and friends (Thanks, friends and anonymous donors . . . theinds and thanonymous donors.) to be able to do basic things like eat food and not get kicked out of our apartment for failure to pay the rent.

This morning, we drove to the credit union and used our fancy new state-mandated-financial-institution-I-don't-really-trust-issued debit card to deposit the daily maximum in our checking account, the rest to follow via electronic transfer in "up to three business days".

So, although it was not intentional, ala my eight-month, post-teaching job search sabbatical from Halo 2, the day of bloody finally depositing the first money from the unemployment office I've been paying into for, say, 13 years, seems like a good day to get back to this blogging business. I can't promise it'll be as frequent, as I used to blog almost exclusively during the work day (while still resolving more calls on average than any other technician, I might add) but it's back.

Oh, and now I TOTALLY wish I had taken that license plate cover for the Previa. The back bumper is falling off, the front right blinker cover is shattered, and the rear end screams like a dying animal with a really high pitched, whining, moaning scream whenever you drive more than 30 MPH. Its going to just die on us someday soon unless we shell out a couple grand. Nothing signifies my confidence and belief in the fidelity of that real estate software company I used to work for than that mini-van.

Birthday Party Preparations LIVEBLOG

5:30. I am setting up the computer in the new location so the photo booth thing will work. Also downloaded a bunch of speed runs to show on the other monitor. Then to pick up around the house a tad and then jump full into playing with bread dough.

4:07. To-do list:

• Make Middle-Eastern-style hearty lentil soup for the veggies and anti-glutenites. Should be done around 7. So, with prep time, 40 minutes to cook until soft, and then a good 20 minutes after that, start around 5:45.
• Stuff and cook runzas. Also should be done cooking around 7. So, to cook 25 minutes, rise 15 minutes before cooking, and be able to be stuffed, start around 6.
• Fry wontons. To be ready at 7, and fry all of them, should take a good half hour to 45 minutes. Start at 6:15.
• Remember to get 2 extra selves.
• Open bags of chips for cheese dip stuff.
• Remember to tell everyone who can't make it to go to my new flickr feed starting at 7 to be able to see live picture updates every 30 seconds.
  
• Bring in noise and funk.
  

3:16. Has beef kind and doesn't has beef kind are go.





















2:52. Actually, it's time to get the cheese dip ready. Respite is off the table for now. (The saurkraut is long gone and in the runza mix, no need to freak out, cabbage-haters)















2:40. Other batch done. Eddie Izzard on the monitor. Dishes in the wash. Might have a bit of respite before I prep the lentil soup, and run the home stretch on the runzas dough.

2:05. Wonton! That's the word I was looking for. I'm making fried rice wontons. So, refrigerating the rice didn't work as well as I'd hoped; it's more mushy than I wanted, but I think it'll work out just fine as a filling. The chicken kind is wrapped and egg whited in the fridge, and the kind without any chicken awaits. Back to it, friends.









1:18. A quick peek at the two refrigerators. The first one is the downstairs. That's Jones Soda Cane Cola in the bottom left. Comes in cans now, apparently, and I know some people love cane sugar over corn syrup (and the non-fattening chemicals that sweeten, whatever those are: yikes, and wow I'm not as fat as I could be) to a degree that five years ago I could not fathom in a sweetener choice, so there those are. The Boulevard Wheat is from a few weeks ago, when a good friend of mine got good and fired for something not so much his fault, and we didn't drink any when he came over and we spent the day like eight-year-old versions of ourselves we played Mike Tyson's Punch-Out for 4 hours, but a few have trickled out over the weeks.






You may have to click on the second one to see all the pre-prepared dish ingredients sitting around in there, waiting expectantly for me to fish them out and toss them on the counter, ready to be mixed or kneaded, or cut, or drizzled, or stuffed, or sampled.





















12:47. Two batches mixed and set to chill for a couple hours. (my mixing bowl didn't seem to want to hold 12-13 cups of flour). Now on to the wraps (or, I suppose, egg rolls with fried rice instead of veggies, depending on your point of view): chicken kind, and there isn't any chicken kind.























































12:00.

























































Oh, my, yes. Food processors RULE.



11:48. So, it's cold today, and heating bills and leaky windows being what they are, the thermostat is set to 62 during the day, which is up from 58 last week, when we realized even with the both of us sitting in front of space heaters all day, it wasn't enough. But with the cooking, and the space heater at the edge of the kitchen, it's been just fine today.













11:46. Ugh, that was, like 4 hand washes. So gross looking, so delicious! The mixtures are saran wrapped (ok, off-brand plastic wrapped, which never, I mean NEVER, wants to come off the roll in a clean break) and away in the fridge. The chicken breast is cooked and ready to be shredded, which means my forearms are going to hurt tonight. WAIT! We have a wee food processor down here. Imona try that.











11:11. This batch of hamburger is done, and I've separated the three pounds into two bowls: one for the regular runzas, one for the pizza runzas. After looking at it, the bread recipie I'm making from scratch will require more fine fine timing than I thought to get the runzas out hot and on time, so I really want the stuff going inside to be standing at the ready. Stupid real life food preparation. How did The Ancients (also, most of the world alive today) do it?! Now to get all that set up and ready as the chicken for the wraps finishes cooking.

The dishwasher has been emptied, the dishes next to the sink stowed. Thanks be to Jill for getting all of that done last night while I was out carousing and living it up, er, I mean . . . at prayer group.




10:48. If you are one of the "privileged" few who have had opportunity to visit me in my job-search dungeon, you'll be familiar with the computer set up I've arranged on the kitchen counter. The orange-tinged book is the aforementioned cookbook. But, what, you may ask, is the second monitor for, recipes that require such complex machinations that you much see two pages of text simultaneously, and such? No, no, nothing so urbane. Throughout the day, I'm going to be watching various videos, DVDs, and internet phenomenon such as Look Around You: Maths.









10:25. The rice is done and off to the fridge to cool so the fried result is less gooey. The beef for the runzas (or bierrocks, as they're known in some circles) is cooking in the pan now. Although I'll be making the bread for that from scratch this afternoon, I want as much to be ready beforehand as possible.











10:12. The rice for the chicken, and not-chicken rice wraps is in the pot and boiling as dictated by our excellent Mennonite cookbook More-With-Less, an excellent gift for those of you either still tied into the consumerist Christmas lifestyle, or with relatives for whom not providing such a still-culturally-appropriate gesture of economic goodwill would cause your relationship to be otherwise strained. I will chill be pre-wrapping the rice, this morning in order to make the just-before-the-party- preparations less hectic.

9:58. I'd been thinking for a while about having a birthday party. In these latter days, with the military-birthday complex in such full stride, and the pressure on every front to celebrate in the most elaborate fashions with the most and modern methods, who doesn't wish for a most excellent celebration of his or her anniversary of emergence? And so, in the spirit of such a broad cultural phenomenon (but, may I say, not the particulars) I prepare. And all day, you, most careful RSS feed reader, and Facebook status minder, shall be kept abreast.

I know, I know, I know.

It's been a while since I've been here. Looking for work and writing fiction, mostly, should you wonder what I've been up to. And I'm not sure how long it'll be until I get back. The other things are more important right now. If I can find a way to do all three, then I'll be here a lot. I like it, and I miss it.

But I'm back just for a moment to tell you about something just read over on a blog I read sometimes. My mouth hung open for a good ten seconds thinking about it, and then I covered it with both hands like you do when you open the wrong door in the wrong kind of movie. And while it's an interesting point the author is making, this one thing stood out above and beyond, so far above, that I can't believe the entire article wasn't just two lines:

The federal bailout we gave the other day to people who got filthy rich by giving bad mortgages to people who couldn't afford them, and then selling the mortgages to people who would never get their money back: $700 billion (850, really)
The total amount of aid the world has sent to Africa since 1960: $600 billion.

As you might expect.

I had planned on spending the afternoon working on a blog about how the modern American capitalist system/corporate culture is really a voluntary opt-in feudalism, using specific examples from the company I work for. Instead, they laid me off. So, I'll have to get to that entry later. Such is the life of an artiste.

You know everybody sees it. Except you; you don't believe it.

I don't think I need much commentary on this. It speaks for itself. I mean, even The Onion sees it.

http://www.theonion.com/content/opinion/im_not_one_of_those_love_thy?utm_source=onion_rss_daily