A Nugget

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. 2 This is what the ancients were commended for... And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. -- Hebrews 11: 1,2,6
The New International Version, (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Publishing House) 1984.

I found this nugget the other day. I've read Hebrews before and it was one of those watershed moments in my faith development. Hebrews is one of those books that I shy away from. Its got almost too much for my little human brain to process. I don't often write down a verse to keep with me, but I did write down this one. Its in my wallet.

Gotta have that faith in my faith. A constant work and struggle.

Indianapolis Thoughts

Gary Varvel Indianapolis Star


Gary Varvel, again.

Its weird being in the middle of the sports world's collective eye. Well, I'm not in the middle of anything, but the spotlight of the world seems to have fallen squarely on my little neck of the world. And its probably going to get a little brighter tomorrow when the Colts beat up on the Detroit Lions in Detroit, purely in a football way, not in a fisticuffs-donnybrook kind of way as the NBA was wont to do last week. I wonder what kind of interesting signs we'll see in the stands. I wonder how many times we'll be subjected to replay of Ron Artest throwing haymakers at fans. Its been fun to watch Peyton Manning play. I decided today that it feels good to be a Colts fan, granted I didn't follow the Colts until I moved here, but I can already feel myself being a Fan and I don't mean a "fairweather" fan, either. Its kind of like my being a Pittsburgh Steelers fan (which I've been since I was a very little loof). I've ridden the waves of success and failure. So, too, with the Colts. So far the success has been great and I'm pretty sure they Colts (I almost said "We") will do very well in the post season.

I don't live in Indianapolis, I live about 12 miles south in what is effectionately called a "donut county." Basically that means that I live in a suburb of Indianapolis. Indy is a pretty nice city. It's nicer then Houston, not quite so busy and people don't seem to aim for you with their cars. Its more urbane then Austin was, but its in Chicago's shadow. Indianapolis has the Colts, the Pacers, and a Triple-A baseball team called Indians(a real original name, huh?) The NCAA has their headquarters here and, of course the world famous Indy 500 runs at the raceway on the westside of town. For a small midwestern city Indianapolis has a lot going for it.

Right now, though, the weather does leave a little to be desired. We seem to have gotten some of the rain that was plaguing Texas recently. Except its cold right now, so the rain is that much more unpleasant. So it must be wintertime, or getting darn close. That's cool with me, I'm ready for it.

This entry seems to have gone off somewhere and I can't bring it back. So be it.

Happy Thanksgiving all. God's Blessings.

Drought of Sorts

I spent six long years in Texas. I lived in Houston, which I really didn't like. It was too hot, too many people and well it was Houston. Actually, I lived in the Houston city limits, but I was 35 miles north of the center of Houston proper. I went to school in Austin-- a nice little school I like to call Con-You. It was a great school and I met a lot of cool people, one of which was Jason Mah-RONE-eye whose blog I found by accident a few weeks ago. Con-you is the place I discovered God. And the place I discovered the nectar of the Gods-- beer, this beer in particular: Shiner Bock

I drank alot of beer while I was at Con-you. Too much probably, but if you lived in the dorm I lived in what I just said was enough to get you ex-communicated: there was never too much beer, just never enough. Sadly, though, I can't get the beer I drank there here in Indy. I'd have to go to Kentucky to get it and I don't feel like driving down there. I discovered this beer and can't get it in Indy either. And that's too bad.

So I make due. About once a week and if I have some extra cash I'll go get some wings and a beer or three. Now my beer of choice is either Killians Red or Amber Boch, whichever is on special. Lately, though I have been jonesin for a Lone Star Tallboy right out of the ice cooler and plate filled with brisquet, sausage, ribs, a big fat roll, and a couple sides of cole slaw and tater salad. That hankerin might make it enough for me to scrounge some kiz-ash and find a way to get down to Texas. Maybe

This is one of those What the F**k kind of things.

I woke up this morning and opened the paper to see the big headline announcing that the Indiana Pacers and The Detroit Pistons resulted to fisticuffs and had a donnybrook in the last 45 seconds of a game in which the Pacers were winning by a rather respectable margin. I watched footage of the brawl this morning on television. It was, to say the least, scary. Since when has basketball turned into a WWE main event. Basketball players should stay on the basketball court and not go into the stands and beat up on a fan who, in the heat of the moment, threw a full cup of beer at his chest. Not only is that dangerous, but stupid, if for no other reason than there are way more fans in the stands then basketball players. Suddenly, the phrase Me Against the World comes to mind.

Here's what happened: Ron Artest (who has been a bit of a problem this year for the Pacers) put a hard foul on a Piston player who let his displeasure be known. Both benches cleared and broke them up. The Pistons guy continued to go after Artest who was actually stretched out on the scorers table having taken himself out of it, at least for awhile. Suddenly, from the stands a full cup of beer or soda was hurled and landed square in the middle of Artest's chest. Now here is where it got stupid. Artest jumped into the stands and went looking for the nimnod that threw the cup. He started swinging at anybody that moved. Fans started swinging back. Another player from the Pacers went into the stands to ostensibly help Artest or to get him out of the stands, but he ended up throwing puches, too. It didn't stop there. The whole place erupted. Chairs started to fly and more bottles and cups. It looked like a good old fashioned riot. The players had to be pulled off the floor for their own security. Speaking of which... where was the SECURITY to begin with? That's something for the NBA to deal with.

Oh, here's the best part. The next time the Pacers and Pistons meet? Dec 25th at The Consenco Fieldhouse. It should be interesting to see what happens there.

Eh?

So, I decided to be smart and try and copy Penny's Diary, I kinda dig the little mood guys she has on her blog. I thought it'd be fun to put them on mine, too, but alas I'm not sure how or where to place the code I got from unkymoods. So I kind of cheated a bit and just posted the pic I chose using the little "pic insertion" (that sounds awfully raunchy doesn't it? I'm sure somewhere its even illegal or the moral equivalent to snail scum, that pic insertion is) help that was so kindly included on my screen (that was a horrible sentence, by the by).

This Answers a Question I Had

Gary Varvel, from The Indianapolis Star

The above cartoon was in the Indy Star this morning. I work for a large chain bookstore and the irony about the cartoon is that this afternoon I was walking around the store and I was happy to see that there weren't any Politicalbooks prominently displayed. They have all gone away. We have stacks of Michael Moore's book I don't think we've sold a copy of his book, that's an exageration, but not too far from the truth (something that Mssr Moore has a problem with).

I saw this earlier today. I just had to roll my eyes. It ranks right up with something I heard about on Craig's List it seems that some guy put an ad up looking to fight a Bush supporter. Crikey. Sheesh.

My dad and I were watching the news last night. The newscaster was busy saying how congress was going to try and work together and to heal the nation and then had a soundbite of a polisci prof say that congress was going to have to come together and find common ground. My father said "Yeah, what that means is the Right is going to have to move the Left and the Left will stay where it is." I thought that was awfully cynical, but truthful.

a poem not a poem

(for R.M. because she is more a writer than me)

i don’t think your writing is finished. i've hit a dry spell myself, but i've
been reading a lot more lately so i expect the muse to hit anytime now. it
better get going soon,

because i'm feeling stagnant... you'd better keep writing K. or i'll
kick your ass.
-- part of an email sent to me from a friend named ‘Bek

part i

writing a poem
now

is useless—

the only images i
have in

my head are of
clean/sterile

shiny hospital
linoleum floors

i hear the soft murmured beeping
heart monitors(this does
give some comfort,
though)& i watch

the green
line bounce from
valley to peak

doctors speak
in quick jargon

filled medical
phrases while

i look from knowing
face to knowing face

begging

for an englisH i
can understand
my nerves fire
my stomach clenches

my head has a dull throb (over
the left eye, where it hurts the
most)i’ll pop
before long—

part ii

these images
(backing up like
ironic rush hour

traffic)are not images
one should put in

a poem