#especially since i recently read a biography on the man so i recognized the other names on the spine

[horror-aesthete]

Rosemary's Baby, 1968, dir. Roman Polanski

[parkpavilion]

Intimate Lives

Philosophers have been posing the big question for as long as anyone can remember: What Makes Life Worth Living? But the more pertinent question for booksellers is of relatively recent vintage: What Makes Life Worth Reading? I don’t know who first asked that one, but I know who gave the first good answer.  John Aubrey was born in Wiltshire, England in 1626, and from an early age took an interest in the world around him, especially those portions of it that even then were ancient and disappearing. No detail was too petty to escape his attention. He listened to old wives’ tales, sketched ruined abbeys, and made systematic studies of, among other monuments, Stonehenge and the still larger stone circle at Avebury. He was one of the first moderns to recognize that these weren’t built by Romans or Danes, but by ancestral British peoples; today some call him the first English archaeologist.  He also had an avid interest in the newest developments in natural philosophy, becoming one of the first to experiment with the transfusion of blood and befriending such scientific luminaries as Robert Hooke and Robert Boyle. Political theorist Thomas Hobbes, author of Leviathan, was another notable in Aubrey’s circle, as were Isaac Newton, John Locke, Christopher Wren, and many others. In comparison to these, Aubrey had little significance in his time, serving a supportive, peripheral role in the lives of better-known men. He said of himself, “I perform the function of a whetstone, which can make the iron sharp though is itself unable to cut.” Few of the projects he undertook on his own behalf were ever finished.  Partly, this was because his interests were so varied and his attention so divided. No matter what intellectual edifice he was constructing, a shiny, unrelated pebble would appear in the corner of his eye, one that had to be collected before it was lost. He spent a great deal of time gathering baskets full of building material, but not much in stacking it up. He also spared a fair amount of time to spend in society; he once lamented, “How much work I would get done if I did not sit up with Mr. Wylde until one or two in the morning, or if there was someone to get me up in the mornings with a good scourge!” Still more detrimental to his productivity were the frequent financial and occasional romantic reversals he experienced. He was born on an idyllic estate that was lost to creditors, eventually relying on generous friends to provide him hospitality, and he remained a bachelor all his life, suffering unrequited love and at least one acrimonious broken engagement. Throughout all of this he beavered on, storing up arcane knowledge and trivia in the hope that posterity would care more about it than his contemporaries did. Since I am writing at such length about a man dead more than three hundred years, you are correct to assume that Aubrey’s trust was not misplaced. By the end of his full life (he died in 1697) he’d assembled and organized a sizable collection of notes on the contemporaries he knew and on the immediate predecessors they’d known. His Brief Lives were filled with details both incidental (poet John Suckling invented cribbage between verses) and, in his time, shocking. Describing one knight of the realm, Aubrey wrote, ”Drunkenness he much exclaimed against, but wenching he allowed.” His manuscripts may have been titillating at the time, but they were never scurrilous. Their author conducted interviews, checked the records, and told the truth as best he found it—all of it. His methods defied the then-prevailing hagiographic trend, but his Lives outlasted his era, circulating ever more widely and providing us with much of what we know about the men and women of the 16th and 17th century. A major accomplishment, to be sure, but his real legacy is as the inventor of a literary art form—the biography. He provided the model for all the work that’s done today to give us full, true, affecting portraits of actual human beings, not plaster saints. A full, true, affecting portrait is exactly what Ruth Scurr has painted in John Aubrey, My Own Life. Few biographies do the excellent job this one does of capturing daily life in a bygone age, and even fewer leave their readers with such a strong sense of knowing their subjects. By the time the last page is turned, Aubrey has come to seem a friend rather than a historical curiosity. Who could help wanting to spend time with a man with this much perspicacity and good humor?:

I think it is strange that magnifying glasses were so long unknown about in this world. Any good fellow at a tavern cannot escape noticing how much the threads of linen cloth are magnified by a glass (of sack or white wine) that has a stem and a hemispherical or conical bottom to it. At least, so it seems to me, when I stare into the bottom of my glass in a tavern and think about what I can see.

Scurr achieves her effect of intimacy through an approach to biography nearly as innovative as Aubrey’s. She takes his words from scattered letters, notebooks, and documents and weaves them into a coherent, chronological diary in his own voice. In so doing, she satisfies all the requirements of scholarship and adds a storyteller’s flair. I can’t imagine a Life better written or more worth reading.

[youcanteatmysins]

It's starting to get cold outside.

.

The air is crisp and the sky is grey. The plant life, for the most part, have started turning to more lighter and paler colors. The lightest of greens and yellows brushing the very edges of trees and grass alike. This isn't too much different than most days on Coruscant, given the lack of natural life left in the area, but it is noticeable. There usually isn't much time these days for basking in the weather, but one sometimes has to stop and enjoy these little changes. It's nice, Obi-Wan thinks. He's been here, doing all sorts of duty related missions for the Jedi Council, for most of his life. It is easy to let the days, months, and seasons pass without as much as a thought, especially when you're having to fight an ongoing, never-ending, intergalactic war.

.

Sometimes though, even as insignificant as it may seem, it's nice to stop and remember all the small things that happen around you that go unnoticed. One of those small things, is the scent of blended spices and legumes in the air. Sometimes the scent is more sweet with floral notes behind them, drawing the attention of many of the youth and elderly alike. Other times, it changes to a more bold scent, often there are notes of peppermint when the planet is at its coldest, or fruits such as shuura or meiloorun when the outside temperature is warmer. On occasions like these though, when the outside is barely starting to chill, is when the scent changes to his favorite blend spices; cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves.

Obi-Wan finds time, be it on more scarce occasion, to stop by the local caf shop in the morning. He isn't too picky, anything with enough caffeine to jolt his systems is usually enough. But this scent? This lovely aroma of blended spices enchanting him with its charm? He can't pass this up for a regular espresso.

.

The shop isn't packed in this particular hour of the morning. About one and half hours after the caf shop opens and people are headed to their respective duties, it gets quiet. This is usually when Obi-Wan likes to show up.

.

Upon entering, there is a small bucket and a sign reading "please donate to your local shelter!" What kind of shelter? Obi-Wan thinks as he walks fully into the shop. The inside of the caf shop is layered with different shades of mute purples and browns, small 2-4 person tables are dotted to the left side of the entrance and two sofas line the wall. The relaxing atmosphere and caf filled aroma already makes Obi-Wan feel more ready for the day he is preparing to take on.

.

"Hello there" Obi-Wan greets the mikkian on the other side of the counter. The barista, who is tending to the pastries displayed on the counter beside the register, looks up to greet the man in front of them.

.

"Hi! What can I get for you this morning?"

.

"Can I have a pumpkin spice latte?"

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"Of coarse! Anything else I could get for you?"

.

As Obi-Wan goes over in his mind if he is forgetting anything, he remembers Anakin complaining this morning about going to class, as well as the fact that Anakin would be upset with him if he found out he had gotten this sweet caf without him.

.

.

"Yes, can I make that two please? And that will be all"

.

"Sure thing! Will be ready in just a moment"

.

.

.

As Obi-Wan waited for his order, he began to reminisce on how his day was going, and what needed to be done for the rest of it.

.

Today wasn't terribly busy, actually far from it. It was one of the few days Obi-Wan had a few extra hours to spare for himself before picking Anakin back up from his classes. He wasn't really used to it these days, having to spend hours alone. Ever since his master had given him the responsibility of teaching Anakin, he was used to either having him around to keep the mood light or having other Jedi masters around to discuss their duties. He had recently picked up teaching Anakin how to play Sabacc; since the boy was already 16, he'd figured he would need the knowledge incase one of their missions required they gamble their way through it. He seemed to look forward to coming out of his classes to play the game, and Obi-Wan took comfort in that fact. There must be a lot of stress on that boy, with the war and his training, but at least he could enjoy these few things. Plus he got to talk with Anakin when they played. Sometimes he could even get Anakin to share some of his stresses with him, which made Obi-Wan feel better about his role as his master and guardian. Before they could sit down and play sabacc though, duties came first.

.

Anakin went to his classes from early on to the evening, and while Obi-Wan was usually busy during this time, he found he had a 3 hour gap in his schedule today. He decided to spend the first hour at the local library, remembering that he'd been needing to find a new book to read. Yes, the temple had a library of its own that Jedi can borrow and read books from, but there's only so much history and biographies one can handle; he wanted something new. It wasn’t too far, just about a 10 minute ride from the temple on a speeder. After spending an hour weighing his options of books and chatting with the librarian (who has a fine taste in literature), he decided on getting something warm to sip on and going to the local park.

.

Obi-Wan was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard "Here you go sir, your order is ready." He realized he had been standing by the counter and was starring off at the wall opposite of himself. His felt a slight bit of heat form on his cheeks.

.

"Thank you so much" Obi-Wan said as he turned to grab his coffees. He placed 10 credits in the barista's hand before asking "Oh and what kind of shelter is the sign for?" The barista looked confused for a moment before turning to the sign at the front entrance. "Oh! Yes that is for the local animal shelter. Since there isn't much plant life on Coruscant anymore, the shelter has taken in any animals that have been found wandering the streets, since of coarse they don't have the means necessary anymore for survival here."

.

An animal shelter? Obi-Wan is surprised. He hasn't ever heard of an animal shelter on Coruscant before.

.

"Sounds lovely. I'm glad someone has taken care of what's left of natural life on this planet. Such a shame that they even had to leave." Obi-Wan, coffee's in hand, dropped a few credits into the bucket.

.

"Thank you! Have a wonderful day" And with that, Obi-Wan was headed to the park.

.

.

.

Obi-Wan arrived at the park and, out of habit, went straight for his favorite reading spot. It was on the outskirts of the park, a place particularly picked out for the fact that hardly anyone ever bothered to venture off there. He sat under one of the large trees, making sure the sunlight would reach his book, and started reading.

.

About 20 minutes in, his mind started wandering. The parks were lively and chirping with people. Tourists coming to see Coruscant and locals just spending the day out with their families filled the sidewalks and fields. It was something that Obi-Wan found warmth and pride in. He was never really given a choice to join the order, and although he curses himself for it, he sometimes wonders where he would be if he was. What kind of life would he be living, or would he be living at all? Would he still have gone to the order, or would he be elsewhere? The toll it had taken out of him, from the loss of his master to the toll on his mind and heart from the war, was he really meant for this? He ached everyday he couldn’t tell himself he was. That this was something good and he was doing the right thing by being a part of it. Looking around at these people, seeing children running and laughing, people enjoying something as simple as an ice cream as they walk freely about the city, Obi-Wan was able to make it possible. He was fighting a war for this. For these people. He liked to think that anyway. The idea gave him comfort and some sort of ground as he went off to help fight an impossibly long wa-

.

Something was off.

.

He felt something watching him, or someone.

.

Obi-Wan lowered his book only to jump about an inch off the ground in surprise, as there was someone he foolishly almost didn't recognize standing but 3 feet in front of him.

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"And the fates speak again" The figure said. He knew that voice.

.

.

Oh

.

What a good time for his mind to remind him of how the man in front of him looked. The man, in which fate had decided, who he had crossed paths with far too many times to count by now. His red and black skin so smooth and intricate with design, sometimes too difficult to break away from its alluring pattern. His hard-to-hide-under-a-hood horns that somehow add to his charming figure. Those eyes, oh those eyes of his that haunt his dreams and daily trains of thought. How they take hold of Obi-Wan and keep him captive. Eyes so deep with stories and scars, watching him as they burn holes into him.

.

"Maul" Obi-Wan had muttered out, surprised to see the zabrak here in the busy Coruscanti park. "Aren't you a delightful surprise" Obi-Wan said sarcastically, although he feels he somewhat means it.

.

Maul was the last person he'd expected to see here. The last time Obi-Wan saw him was on his last mission about 2 weeks ago, which took place on a cargo ship hiding slaves going to some spice mines. Apparently Maul was there on his own mission to steal some of the supplies off the ship, and hadn't known about the slaves. Not like Maul cared much about the slaves though.

.

Obi-Wan placed a bookmarker on the page he left off at and fully closed the book. Maul was staring at him calmly, not showing any signs of being hostile, but not entirely friendly either. He was always unreadable though, so even if he was plotting Obi-Wans demise, he wouldn't be able to tell just by looks. Come to think of it, Maul and him hadn't been hostile towards each other for a long time now. Ever since Maul had uncharacteristically declared he had only wanted to spar with him and had no interest in killing him anymore (about 4 years after Naboo), they'd been slowly growing on each other. Or at least Maul has been growing on him, even in this current situation.

.

"I can say the same to you" Maul said as he smirked.

.

Obi-Wan knew he felt flustered, but that didn't mean he wanted to look it. He met the other man's eyes and focused on keeping his exterior calm and collected, no matter how he felt. Why was Maul here in the first place? Actually, bigger question, why was he standing front of him? He looked around for his caf and gabbed the extra one; he'd remember to buy another one for Anakin later.

.

"Do you like coffee?" Obi-Wan said, offering the cup of still hot but not unbearably so caf. Maul looked at the cup and back at Obi-Wan, probably searching for malice in his expression as proof of it being poisoned, before taking the cup into his hands. Obi-Wan patted the ground next to him.

.

"Would you stay to chat for a bit?" Obi-Wan said. Maul eyed the spot where he had patted. "If you're not busy that is." After a thorough inspection of the area he was invited into, he finally sat down next to him. "So what brings you here?" Obi-Wan asked, both out of genuine curiosity and suspicion that he's up to no good. Before Maul answered, he lifted his caf to his lips, sniffed, and took a sip. Obi-Wan watched him with interest, wondering if the man would even be used to the spices. Maul held a blank expression, starring into the cup he just sipped from.

.

"…" Maul took another sip from the drink and rested his elbows on his knees, avoiding Obi-Wans gaze and instead settling for looking to his right, the shapes of people in the distance squirming in his vision. "It's… adequate. I still don't understand why you people indulge in these sorts of things. But to answer your question, I'm here on a small smuggling mission."

.

Since the zabrak was sitting so close to him, Maul's words hummed in the air between them, that strangely beautiful voice reaching his chest and warming him from the inside out. Obi-Wan felt himself relax at the sound. Fuck him for having such a damned soothing voice. Wait. What did Maul say?

.

Obi-Wan, being distracted by the sound of the other mans voice, didn't hear a thing that was said to him. Luckily it didn't look as though Maul minded much.

.

"How much was this caf?" Maul asked, still not looking at him. "I think about 5 republic credits each, but if you're counting the amount to the local animal shelter, then 30."

.

At this Maul did turn to look at him. Obi-Wan looked back at him to notice his lips curled slightly in a smug expression. "Thank you for you're contribution" Maul said in a just as smug voice. Obi-Wan was confused. "Do you own an animal shelter?" He said incredulously. Since when did Maul of all people care about animals? The other took a moment to think before answering. "Partially. I don't own the front, but I own the business in the back. I told you I was here for a smuggling run." At that Obi-Wan chuckled. "I knew you were up to no good. Why would you tell me that? I could tell the authorities and you wouldn't know"

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Maul starred at him, studying him almost. They stayed like that for a while. "You wouldn't." He said this confidently. It was Obi-Wans turn to stare off into the distance. "I guess you're right."

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He heard Maul chuckle. "Oh, what the Jedi would think of you."

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"What they would think indeed."

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_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

.

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They sat and chatted for a little while before Obi-Wan stood up.

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"I have to go pick up Anakin soon, I better get going." He looked at Maul, who was still sitting in the same spot as when he first arrived, drink now empty. "Will I be seeing you around?"

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Maul looked thoughful for a moment. "I don't leave for anothed week from now"

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Obi-Wan took that as a yes, and in turn, for a reason he couldn't pinpoint, made him hopeful. "Well, if you have any free time this week, send me a message and I can show you some more kinds of caf I think you'd enjoy." As Obi-Wan said this, he handed Maul a slip of paper with his comm number on it. Then he blushed, if only just slightly, while saying "It's to my personal comm link, so nobody can see the messages but me." Maul took the slip of paper and held it up, reading the contents of what Obi-Wan claimed to be his number.

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"I'll see you around, Maul." And with that, Obi-Wan left the park and never looked back, too embarrassed to see what Mauls reaction was.

I know it's not anywhere near october, but I thought this was a nice prompt and I really wanted to do it so here you go, hope you enjoy

[softbiker]

A Familiar Place - Part 1

A recovery story - this series follows some events in the first year of Bucky’s life back stateside, and his small adventures while learning to come home to himself. This is not an “x Reader” or romance story.

Warnings: some language, probably sloppy editing

A/N: I’m posting the first part of this story to celebrate hitting 100 followers this weekend! Thank you so much everyone! I’m having a blast with this writing blog. This story probably won’t be updated as fast as Born to Run since I don’t have it all written out yet, but I still wanted to post it. Tagging @bitsandbobsandstuff since she answered my question about Steve’s coffee order :) As always, let me know what you think and if you like it!

There’s a stack of books next to his bed that need to go back to the library. Probably overdue, he thinks, and he hasn’t read a single page. He feels a little guilty for it as he stares at their spines, blinking slow and sleepy.

A knock at the door.

“Hey man, you ready?” Sam pokes his head in, eyebrows up and expectant.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky nods. Finishes lacing his sneakers. Grabs a baseball cap from the doorknob on his way.

Steve is waiting by the front door, rolling his shoulders underneath a (frankly ridiculous) tight blue shirt. The corner of his mouth quirks up when he turns.

“Mornin’, Buck.”

“Morning.”

“He’s so damn chipper in the mornings,” Sam grins, slapping Bucky’s shoulder. “I feel perky just standing next to you, Tin Man.”

Bucky narrows his eyes but says nothing, just watches Steve shake his head like a fond mother. He knew by now that their animosity was mostly a pretense.

“Ready to go?” the Captain asks, rubbing his hands together, eager and alert despite the bags under his own eyes. Bucky suspects that Steve stays up to see if he needs him, listening for the sounds of his nightmares. He feels a little guilty for that, too.

They do a quick warm up outside, some leg swings and lunges and jumping jacks to get the blood flowing. It’s mostly for Sam - Bucky doesn’t know if it’s possible for him or Steve to pull a muscle, but it definitely won’t be on their morning runs. But they do the routine together anyways, the three of them, their breaths puffing in the spring morning air.

It’s only a couple of miles from their place to Prospect Park, and Bucky and Steve jog at a reasonable pace for Sam’s sake. The conversation is easy between them now - Sam’s date last week with the nurse from the medical wing, Steve’s painting class, Bucky’s therapy sessions. He’s noncommittal on any specifics, but he admits that he thinks they help. And that’s enough - Sam and Steve don’t press him, happy to have him out and moving and living under a sunrise. They take a few laps through the curving paths of the park, nodding to other early morning runners.

About 6 miles in, Bucky yawns.

“Are we gonna actually run today, Rogers, or are we letting the flightless bird set the pace?”

Steve cocks an eyebrow and glances to his left at Sam, the only member of their trio with a collection of sweat on his chest and under his arms and little beads of it running down his face.

“If you think you can keep up, jerk.”

Sam is left behind somewhere around the lake, yelling something about not being afraid to “beat senior citizen ass.”

Here’s the thing about being a super soldier: it doesn’t feel that crazy most of the time. Bucky knows he’s not straining when he moves an entire rack of weights in the gym, or lifts the back end of a car to help put a jack under it. Tony rented out batting cages for the team one time, and he broke the bat on the first swing, simultaneously popping the stitches on the ball. He plays this little game sometimes where he tries to balance as much weight as he can on his index finger - he’s managed 40 pounds so far on his human hand.

But none of that feels special when he does it. Being strong is just a fact about him. It doesn’t make him feel superhuman. “Enhanced”.

Running, though.

When he and Steve go for runs, legs stretching forward and pavement barely felt as it flows beneath their feet, the world feels different. Slower. They dart around the joggers and strollers in their path, and Bucky watches them slip behind him in slow motion. They propel their bodies like bullets, their cadence the rapidfire staccato of a machine gun. The trees ebb and grow in cresting waves of green as the soldiers fly past.

Flying, Bucky thinks. That’s how he feels now.

Steve is a half beat ahead of him, and his head turns in profile, eyes cutting to find Bucky’s. The corner of his lip twitches.

“Tired yet?”

“Not on your life, punk.”

Steve laughs as he nearly doubles their pace, legs a blur to the eyes of everyone they pass. Bucky follows, gripping the bill of his cap as it threatens to fly up at their speed. He shifts it around backwards, the way he sees Sam wear his sometimes. They turn up the periphery of the park to the northeast, chasing the half-risen sun, now above the buildings and trees around them. Bucky can see the shape of the public library as they pass by, the bronze gate gleaming in the morning light. Some of his old gear, Army stuff and boxing gloves and pictures of him and Steve sitting on the hood of a jeep in France, had been on display with their historical collection when he got here - got home - a few months ago. Sam showed him when they went there; Bucky had leaned close, tried to recognize that kid under the glass.

The supersoldiers put in about 20 miles before they decide to find Sam, now that they’ve finally broken a sweat. Cutting across the grass, they slow their pace to human level and look for their friend. Sam is still by the lake, stretching in the grass while laughing with a girl with a long braided ponytail and crazy tight workout clothes. Bucky and Steve share a look as they jog across the lawn, but act polite when the starstruck girl realizes who Sam’s running buddies are.

After taking a couple selfies with them, the girl jogs off to get ready for work, ponytail swinging behind her. Steve raises an eyebrow in Sam’s direction.

“So, what about that nurse?”

Sam gives him the finger.

***************************************************************************************

“Look man, all I’m saying is, you could give it a shot,” Sam shrugs, sipping from his to-go cappuccino. “I mean, who knows, there’s probably plenty of ladies out there who are into this whole thing.” He waves the coffee cup to gesture to Bucky’s entire body.

Bucky frowns. “I have a thing?”

“Sure, you know the brooding, emotionally tortured, dark past kinda thing.” Sam slaps his shoulder. “Lean into it, chicks dig that.”

Bucky nearly chokes on his own drink as he glares at Sam. Steve hides his smile behind his complete monstrosity of a drink. A limited edition something, the clear cup holds 20 ounces of frozen tie-dye, swirling in red, blue, and yellow, and topped with a mountain of whipped cream. Steve Rogers, ever the little shit, had ordered this drink with a straight face, and now slurps loudly on his straw, while taking breaks to run his finger through the whipped cream. Bucky can see the name “Cap” scrawled in neat sharpie on the side of the cup, with a star drawn next to it.

“I’m not interested, okay,” Bucky shrugs, dodging a piece of gum on the sidewalk. They had gotten coffee on their walk back to the brownstone, and were discussing a topic that now made Bucky’s skin crawl with discomfort - women.

“Hey, you don’t have to be looking for a wife,” Sam goes on. “But it wouldn’t hurt you to download an app or two. Tinder. Bumble. Something.”

“Aw, lay off him, Sam,” Steve finally speaks up, shaking his head. “Bucky’s not ready. Maybe he’ll feel like it when he’s back to his old lady killer self.”

Bucky cringes at the phrase, at the half-formed memories it conjures. A swaggering Brooklyn kid who spent far too much time combing his hair and winking at pretty girls. He remembers tucking flowers into the lapel of his suit jacket, spending hours shining his shoes, just to spend a night dancing with some pretty girl he’d never see again. He could barely bring himself to talk to strangers anymore, let alone ask one on a date.

“Shut up, Rogers,” he mumbles into his coffee. “That Bucky is dead and buried.”

He doesn’t have to look to know that Steve’s face has that stricken grimace he pulls whenever Bucky says something dark and self-deprecating. He wishes he could say those things without making Steve feel guilty, cause now he feels guilty…

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Buck…”

“I know, I know,” Bucky waves him off. “Just quit tryin’ to set me up, both of you. Let an old man rest, will you? Jeez…”

His little joke is enough to put Steve and Sam at ease again, and the conversation turns to Steve’s equally lackluster love life until they reach their place and shuffle up the front steps. Ivy creeps and climbs up the walls for this entire block of buildings, and Bucky wonders if someone planted it there. He likes the lush green of it, especially in the morning.

The 3 of them part ways to hit the showers. In his room again, Bucky’s eye is drawn back to his sad little pile of books.

Sam is smart. An asshole, yes, but smart. Which is why his book choices tend to include biographies, history, political topics - the stack on the nightstand includes only one novel, a recent bestseller about a retired veteran adopting a dog. Bucky remembers reading, being a reader - he remembers bringing home books from school or trading them at the bookstore or receiving them as gifts from Steve. But not those kinds of books. Nothing boring. Nothing to remind him of the uncertain, hard world he lived in.

He stares at the spines of Sam’s books for a few more moments, then hurries through the shower, his mind made up.

***************************************************************************************

“Um, excuse me,” he clears his throat at the front desk. “I need to return these, but, uh. I think - well, they’re overdue.”

Bucky tries a smile at the clerk, a middle-aged woman with a short-cropped haircut, but he can feel how unnatural it looks on his face. The clerk raises an eyebrow at him - he realizes he should have waited a bit before coming here; the tips of his hair are still wet, tiny wet spots coloring the shoulders on his hoodie.

“Well, let’s scan them and see,” she sighs, pulling his books across the desk. Bucky shifts, his hands curling and uncurling in his front pockets. The old Bucky could probably charm his way out of the fine, but this one? Not a chance in hell, Barnes. The librarian grabs the first book and scans the barcode taped to the plastic jacket.

His books are 13 days overdue - costing him a grand total of $5.20. He thinks of Steve’s now expensive coffee habit as he hands over the bill and change. There goes one of his frozen sugar nightmares.

With his fine taken care of, Bucky wanders his way through the fiction section, his eyes passing over names and titles without catching on anything. Sam’s books weren’t his taste. But he doesn’t even remember his own taste. Gloved fingers drift over the shelves, tapping on the wood.

“Can I help you find something?”

Bucky is embarrassed to be so startled - his head jerks around to see the old man standing there, a warm smile on his face. His shoulders are stooped a little, hands clasped behind his back as he tilts his head up to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“No...well, I don’t know,” Bucky huffs. “I don’t really know what I’m looking for.”

“Oh, I see,” the man nods. The crooked name tag on his striped shirt reads ‘Marvin’. “Would you like some recommendations, then?”

Bucky hesitates, quirking the corner of his mouth down.

“I guess so,” he nods. “I like...fiction. But I haven’t really read anything in a long time.”

Marvin nods quietly, pursing his lips. His eyes pass over the shelves behind his coke bottle glasses, tapping a finger to his chin.

“Follow me,” he shuffles down the aisle, waving a hand behind him. Bucky obeys, turning the corner onto the next set of author’s names. Marvin’s mouth moves silently as he walks along, searching and searching.

“Aha! Here we go.” He reaches up to a shelf at eye level, taking a book and showing Bucky the front cover. “This has been a classic since it was published, really. And the author wrote a trilogy that followed. It’s fantasy, maybe that’s your thing?”

“I...I’m trying new things,” Bucky decides, clearing his throat as he takes the book, admiring the pastoral scene on the cover. “Um, you said he wrote other books?”

Marvin smiles and turns back to the shelf, reaching for the adjacent books.

******************************************************************************************

Bucky’s backpack makes a ‘thunk’ sound as he drops it next to his bed, closing the door with his foot. He had loaned all four books that Marvin suggested, eager as he read their inside covers. Maybe he and Steve and Sam could watch the movie adaptations sometime, on one of their pizza nights. He had always opted out of choosing a movie, so overwhelmed by the options and apathetic to Sam’s DVD library. But maybe he would suggest it to Steve next time. Steve would like that.

He toes off his sneakers, shuffling back and messing up the comforter on his perfectly made bed. When he first moved in, he thought the room was furnished with way too many pillows - who needs more than one pillow? Now he fluffs the three behind his back and props himself up against the headboard, leaning over to slip the first book out of his backpack. He settles back on his bed, folds back the cover to the first chapter.

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.”

Tags

@vacant-writings

[caseysbell]

Whodunit

If you’re a reader who finds joy in the “whodunit” books then Daniella Bernett is the author for you. A member of the Mystery Writers of America NY Chapter, Daniella by day is a research manager for an engineering, architectural and construction management firm, and by night is a murder mystery, crime solving writer. If you are a Sherlock Holmes or a Matlock at heart than get your hands on her books. Daniella has a string of mystery series that will attend to your reading addiction. I had the chance to talk with her and ask a few questions about her and her series. 1. When did you know you wanted to be a writer? I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was nine years old. The spark that launched me into the writing world was my fourth grade teacher. Once a week, she had Creative Writing hour and gave us different assignments. I absolutely loved it. However, I think it all started with a love of reading and an appreciation of language and the written word. I am, and always have been, a voracious reader. Mysteries, spy thrillers, the classics, history, biographies, anything except science fiction and horror. (I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I read those types of books). 2. What inspires you to write? Inspiration is derived from all sorts of places. It could be a newspaper article; a snippet of overheard conversation; a real-life crime; or a dream. I get a lot of ideas from the sights and sounds of a city or an area that has made a strong impression on me. You’re either going to laugh or you’re going to run very quickly in the opposite direction, but oftentimes I come across a place and think, “Wouldn’t this be the perfect setting to find a dead body?” Location plays an important role in my books. I’ve been an Anglophile since I was a little kid, so naturally, my characters had to be British, and London and the UK had to figure prominently in my books. I also adore Venice. That enchanted city’s history of intrigues was simply begging to be featured in Lead Me Into Danger, Book 1 in Emmeline Kirby-Gregory Longdon mystery series. In terms of Deadly Legacy, Book 2, what set the story in motion in my mind was the 2003 heist at the Antwerp Diamond Centre. A group of Italian thieves stole $100 million in diamonds, gold, and other jewelry. Only one man was caught. The diamonds were never found. This captivated my imagination. From Beyond The Grave, Book 3, focuses on Emmeline and Gregory’s rekindled relationship. His recent resurfacing has thrown her safe world into turmoil. Therefore, I wanted to take them outside of London, where they wouldn’t be distracted by daily routines. I selected Torquay along the English Riviera in Devon because I love the sea. Gently lapping tides, a rugged coastline, romantic sunsets, and murder. 3. What was your first published book? Lead Me Into Danger, Book 1 in my series, which features journalist Emmeline Kirby and jewel thief Gregory Longdon, was my first mystery published. My first book published was Timeless Allure, a poetry collection. 4. What is a brief synopsis of your mystery novel? In Lead Me Into Danger, Emmeline and Gregory haven’t seen each other in two years, but she literally runs into him in Venice after witnessing two men try to murder her colleague. Then, Emmeline and Gregory become ensnared in a hunt for a Russian spy in the British Foreign Office. 5. What was your first response to receiving your book and holding it? My heart stopped for the briefest instant, my breath caught in my throat, and my fingertips tingled. The feeling never changes. 6. What is your latest published book and the synopsis? A Checkered Past, Book 4, is the latest installment in my series. Here’s the back cover copy to whet your appetite: A looted Nazi painting…A former IRA commander…The tie that binds is murder Emmeline Kirby is back in London determined to make a success of her new job as editorial director of investigative features at The Clarion. Three months have passed since her trip to Torquay and the devastating revelations that surfaced about her fiancé Gregory Longdon. The whole interlude has left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she is keeping him at arm’s length. But a suave and dashing jewel thief like Gregory is not easily daunted. After all, faint heart never won fair lady. It doesn’t hurt that Emmeline’s grandmother and her best friend, Maggie, are on his side. Only his shadowy past could ruin his chances. All of these relationships are threatened as Emmeline stubbornly pursues a story about looted Nazi art and an IRA collaborator. When a stolen Constable painting belonging to Maggie’s family turns up in the collection of Max Sanborn, the chairman of the company that owns the Clarion, her personal crusade brings danger close to home. To find the truth, Emmeline and Gregory must untangle a web of deception, betrayal, and dark deeds. But will they learn too late that justice can be cold comfort if you’re dead? 7. What inspired you to write this book? I am passionate about the issue of looted Nazi art, as everyone should be about injustice. Sadly, as 2018 comes to a close and we enter 2019, we routinely read these stories in the papers. Each one another ugly stigma of shame that the Holocaust was allowed to take place. That’s why it infuriates me when people continue to deny that it ever happened and that its victims are “greedy” for attempting to have THEIR property returned. I simply attempted to keep the issue alive and to show how it reverberates today. In addition, the resurgence of such sentiments terrifies me. The war is never over for those who suffered, and continue to suffer, because of the injustices perpetrated against them. If we forget, humanity’s soul will be condemned in perpetuity. 8. What advice would you give people who are thinking about writing a book, but have not taken the steps yet? I believe all writers are readers at heart. Therefore, I would tell an aspiring writer to READ. Read everything you can get your hands on to get a feel for the pacing, moods evoked, subjects written about and the language. Read different authors to see how each handles the narrative and plot twists. In the end though, let these other books merely be your guides. The most important thing is to write the story that you want to write and not what others tell you or what the current market trends are. To write a great story, you have to breathe it, live with it, and nurture it in your dreams and waking hours. 9. Are you working on any new book(s)? Book 5 will be released in September 2019. I just finished Book 6. I usually take a couple of months off in between books to allow the next one to percolate in mind. Then, Emmeline and Gregory drag me off on another adventure. 10. Anything else you would like to say that was not asked? Many people ask me why I chose a journalist and a jewel thief as protagonists. A journalist is inherently curious about many subjects. His or her job is to ask questions to uncover the truth and ensure transparency. Naturally, a journalist would be intrigued by crime, especially murder. The determination to find answers and see that justice is served are all important. Meanwhile, a jewel thief’s modus operandi are lying and evasion of the law. Isn’t this in stark contrast to a journalist’s reverence for the truth and justice? Most definitely. That’s exactly the point. A portrait in contrasts. Who better than someone on the wrong side of the law to discern the twisted workings of a fellow criminal’s mind? A thief immediately recognizes things that the honest person would never even contemplate. In Gregory’s case, he has a certain code of honor. Murder is an offensive transgression. A line that should never be crossed. Thus, I have two diametrically opposed sleuths who are of one mind when it comes to the taking of a human life: the culprit must pay for the crime, otherwise chaos would reign in the world. 11. How can one contact you? Email, website, social media, etc? My website is http://www.daniellabernett.com/ I’d love to hear from readers. If they’d like to drop me a little note, there is an e-mail address on my website. Readers also can follow me on Facebook and Goodreads. http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4450173.Daniella_Bernett https://www.facebook.com/people/Daniella-Bernett/100008802318282

[likohno]

Hi old friend! I was clearing up my bookmarks and came across your profile.. Old memories haha. Anyways, one thing I'm trying to work on more are habits regarding faith. I was wondering if they're any habits you do in regards to faith that have been helpful? I've been trying to read more of scripture, but sometimes i view it too much as a checklist than a transformation of my heart

Oh hi there! Aw I would love to know who you are if you’re an old friend (or even new friend too) :-) But for sure! I’m so encouraged you’re even considering these things and thought to reach out to me. Thank you for entrusting me to help you; I have a huge passion for God, His Word, and His people so this question is such an honor to even try to answer to come alongside a fellow brother/sister <3 

For one, I really appreciate that you’re already asking about what habits to pursue, since you recognize that there ought to be some consistency in your endeavors. I was just talking with another friend the other day about how growing in our relationship with Christ takes hard work and real discipline; like a fish swimming upstream against the current rather than relaxing and being swept downstream. Sanctification is definitely not a one-and-done change in behavior or act, but a consistent lifestyle that stems from the heart and should permeate not just all we do, but all we are. 

To answer your question specifically, one habit I just recently started doing daily and has been a tremendous blessing in my spiritual life is making it a habit to wake up one hour early to just spend time with God. Just like you would set a date with anyone else you’re eager to see and get to know, those who claim to love Christ as his followers ought to be marked by setting aside this time for and ultimately with Him. Not because we “have” to or “should” as a “good Christian,” but because we love him and want to know him more. And I’m sure it’ll look different for each person when’s the best time for these quiet times, but I personally like the idea of truly giving the firstfruits of my day and time to God, to be anchored in His Word, and to have him direct my thoughts and heart the rest of the day unto him. I found this really cute and helpful journal at Marshall’s a few years ago that starts with a Psalm and then encourages one page of reflection on a Scripture. So every morning I usually start with prayer and meditating on the Psalm, and then read one mini chapter from the Bible (currently I’m going through the Gospels again so am reading through Matthew slowly, but surely). I use my study bible to write down some notes if I need further clarification and I like to put stars next to questions of application for myself. I’ve found that engaging with the Bible in this way not only helps me remember what I read throughout the day, but it truly makes me feel like I’m having a conversation with God as I close in prayer and ask him to help me apply the truths I just read and meditated on so I’m actually seeking to walk in his will rather than just grow “fat” with spiritual knowledge. 

Some other ideas/habits I like to incorporate and recommend include:

- Listening to hymns and singing them while doing menial tasks/household chores (washing the dishes, folding laundry, cleaning the bathroom, showering, etc). 

- Memorizing Scripture. Focusing on quality over sheer quantity, you can even have one verse that you treasure and want to know by heart on your bathroom mirror to recite every time you brush your teeth for a month and that is a good use of that little pocket of time that can prepare you for future spiritual battles. 

- During this shelter-in-place season, I’ve loved going on productive walks around the neighborhood and multi-task by either listening to a sermon, chatting with a friend, or just unplugging and praying for all the people I said I would pray for for at least one hour. It feels great to grow in physical and spiritual health in this way!

- Read, read, read. And not just the Bible, but Christian biographies of former spiritual giants or even children’s books like the Chronicles of Narnia that can spark your awe of God. (I personally read all the books in this series over the past month and feel like it’s been a huge answered prayer to grow in my affection for Christ as all the spiritual allegories made me worship God so much more and even left me in tears longing for heaven). 

- Surround yourself with believers and prioritize fellowship, even by online means. No man is an island and God made us to live in relationship with others as modeled by the Trinity. I find that talking to other friends and especially helping others with their trials and struggles reminds me of the hope I have as well in the gospel and always leave feeling mutually refreshed and rejuvenated in the Lord to seek him more. 

- Seek discipleship. Is there anyone in the faith who you admire how they reflect Christ and hope to be a quarter of the godly woman/man they are now? Learn from them! Ask good questions, sit at their feet, and soak in their wisdom as they direct you closer to the heart of our King. 

Sorry I have to take a call soon so will leave it at this for now, but feel free to ask me anything anytime! Thanks for reaching out to me, stranger/old friend :-)

Love in Christ,

Lisa

[chrisoyakhilomecoolblog4831-blog]

Watch as Pastor Chris Oyakhilome interviews Trump’s appointed US Ambassador to Israel, David Friedman

Pastor Chris Oyakhilome, the lead pastor of Christ Embassy and president of LoveWorld Incorporated, recently sat down with Donald Trump’s appointed Us Ambassador Pastor Chris Oyakhilome Biography to Israel, David Friedman.

In the exclusive interview with the Man of God, Ambassador Friedman discusses American policy towards Israel and the unique relationship between the two countries. Friedman shares with Pastor Chris America’s vision for the region and how Israel plays an important role in successfully achieving that vision.

Watch the exclusive interview above and read the complete interview transcript below.

Pastor Chris Oyakhilome: Hello everybody. I have with me today the American ambassador to Israel, Ambassador David Friedman. You are welcomed, sir.

Ambassador David Friedman: It’s great to be with you, Pastor. Thank you.

Pco (Pastor Chris Oyakhilome): It’s one year now since the United States recognized Jerusalem as capital of Israel. What are your feelings?

Df (Ambassador David Freidman): First of all, I can’t believe how fast the year has gone. It feels like a blur. I’m so happy that we’ve managed to open, to really get into our mission here in Jerusalem. I think it’s been a very successful year and, you know, I thank God that we were able to have that first year in peace, tranquility, success, outreach to people of all faiths and to really, I think, present the President’s mission towards Israel, towards the Jewish world, the Christian world, the Muslim world in the best possible light.

Pco: So far, any backlash?

Df: No. Surprisingly no, from the first day, from the day of the opening ceremony, I don’t think there were more than 10 or 15 people in all of Jerusalem that were protesting. Of course, you know there was violence in Gaza, but that violence had already begun several months earlier. So that was really unavoidable. But in terms of the City of Jerusalem, that was completely tranquil, as it should be.

Pco: Amazing. Now in recent times, we can see that Iran has been ramping up their rhetoric against Israel. Any connection with the relocation of the Embassy.

Df: I think that Iran has hated Israel, has hated the United States for decades and we haven’t seen any increased rhetoric relating to the opening of the embassy. But we have of course seen Iranian activity grow, malign activity grow throughout the Southern and Northern Crescents whether in Yemen or Iraq or in Syria. So, Iran is a serious problem, but I don’t think that problem has been exacerbated by the opening of the embassy.

Pco: If I look at it from another perspective, you know sometimes, some people may not say something, but they may not be very happy. What are the thoughts in Europe?

Df: Well, Europe is no longer monolithic. You know there’s the E3. I think France and Germany have been fairly vocal in their opposition to recognizing Jerusalem as the capital of Israel. Maybe to a lesser extent in the UK. As you head east, we see many countries that I think are really beginning to seriously consider moving their embassies. So, they’re not all of one view. We’d like to see more activity over the next year or two.

Pco: How many have moved their embassies currently, or at least recognized Jerusalem as capital?

Df: So, the one that’s recognized Jerusalem and moved has only been Guatemala, at this point. The Czech Republic has opened up a diplomatic facility here, as have a number of other countries. No one is yet to move an embassy. It’s been actively discussed, as you may know, in Brazil, in Romania, in a number of other countries. So, it’s moving, not at the fast pace we would like, but it’s moving I think in that direction.

Pco: Are you making any efforts to convince them, or are you just waiting for them to decide?

Df: We’ve, I think, indicated to everyone that’s willing to listen that we think their diplomatic missions should be in Jerusalem. We think that’s the correct approach diplomatically, it’s the correct approach historically and it doesn’t in any way denigrate from the desire to see peace in the region or to see the Palestinians live in dignity, with autonomy. So, that’s been our view. We’ve made that point over and over again and privately many countries have agreed. I think there’s in each country a process that maybe takes a couple of years, but I’m still optimistic that we’ll see more movement.

Pco: Amazing. What are your thoughts – you’ve been here for a while now and since the declaration of Jerusalem as capital, you’ve also been here and watched how things have evolved. What are your thoughts about Israel as a whole?

Df: Well, there’s a lot to discuss. Maybe in the simplest terms – Israel is a miraculous country. When you think of the challenges that it faces, the enemies on its border – whether it’s Syria, Lebanon, Gaza – enemies close to its border like Iran. all the instability, all the terrorist groups that threaten it – the fact that it’s able not just to survive, but to maintain its strength, maintain its security, develop a world-class economy – you know one of the best in the world – be a leader in cyber defense and high technology – this is, frankly, miraculous.

I mean, Oyakhilome something that nobody would expect to see, you know, in the absence of some divine help. So, I’m very, very, very impressed with the people of Israel, the land of Israel and it really survives against the odds – but it doesn’t just survive, it really survives and excels in ways that I think few other countries can. I Visit the website like to think that the United States and Israel are so close because we do have these shared values and these shared accomplishments, but, of course, Israel does it with a much greater risk to its security. The United States is surrounded by oceans and Canada and Mexico. Israel doesn’t have that luxury.

Pco: Now talking about security. You recently declared the Golan Heights as part of Israel. What would you say to the world really motivated this – was it in defense of Israel, what was it?

Df: Well, you know of course it supports Israel. We want to support Israel. I’m sure you’ve been there. I’ve been there many times, especially recently. It’s incredibly important territory strategically, it borders with a ruthless, despotic regime that has killed or displaced more than a million people. And there is simply no conceptualization of Israel’s northern border that doesn’t include the Golan Heights, and so, you know, we did it. We think our predecessors, frankly, should have done it.

It was the right decision at the right time and I think it sent the message to those who are still making mischief in Syria that the United States is going to support Israel having a safe and secure border, which is what it’s entitled to, you know, as a matter of law. So, we’re surprised that any country could possibly conceive the circumstance where the Golan Heights would be returned to Bashar Assad. It’s just beyond, beyond imagination that anybody could think that would be a possibility, even fifty years from now. You know, even, you know in the distant future. The Golan Heights needs to be part of Israel forever.

Pco: Interesting. I just want to ask – two more things. I wanted to articulate – can you give us in a nutshell what is America’s vision for this region?

Df: We’d like to see much of the region join the 21st century, develop better practices with regard to human rights, more open, transparent economy, non-aggression from one country to the next. We think Israel is the lynch pin of that vision because Israel is the only democracy in the region. It has by far the best human rights record in the region. So, it is the model that we would like to see others aspire to and, without mentioning other countries, we are seeing progress. Not enough, not at enough of a pace. But our vision of the region are democratic nations living in peace.

Pco: A year ago I was present at the celebration where you made this announcement. So now, you’ve enjoyed it, what do you have to say to the world about Israel? Would you encourage…I want you to cofi.online/ say something about Israel, talking to others about Israel.

DF: The most important message is we can talk about Israel for hours, it’s nothing like being here. Israel is now seeing god help me about 4 million tourists a year. That’s more than double than what they were seeing a couple of years ago. People are coming here, they’re seeing the beauty of it, the miracle of it, the power of walking the lands of the Bible, walking where Moses walked, walking where Jesus walked. I shouldn’t say Moses, Moses never got to Israel, but Joshua walked, where Jesus walked, where Samuel walked. It’s very powerful. There’s nothing like being here. And to see how Israel makes it all works and accommodates all the faiths, all the faith-based tourists in a way that’s so welcoming. I think it’s a transformational experience. I would encourage everybody to come.

Article Source:

https://www.bellanaija.com/2019/06/pastor-chris-oyakhilome-interviews-david-friedman/

[glimpseofbeing-blog]

A Letter to a Friend...

Copied below is a a letter written to a friend in prison on October 10, 2017.  The body, beauty, art, ect., are reflections of the world.  I think this writing is to.  A representation of my processing of recent and ongoing events.  Hopelessly bleak and still somewhat hopeful.  A bit of Steppinwolf I suppose.

Hi Mike,

Been a bit, per usual-apologies for the delay. Honestly, I'm not even sure where the time goes. I make to do lists almost daily with "write Mike" always on there. It's strange: I haven't had a job in a year but I'm always busy, though I'm not sure with what. The little things in life I suppose. Maybe difficult to understand from your position, maybe not.

The world is wild. I'm writing this letter, or at least this portion, on my phone. I'll eventually email it, then print using a tiny memory stick at Kinko’s in town. And I'll pay for the print with my credit card, of course, so I can get a frequent flyer mile. After 12,000 of those I get a free flight. Ridiculous!

But the world is wild in many not so great ways too. I'm sure by now you've heard of the mass shooting in Las Vegas? I'd really love to hear your thoughts on gun violence and what you feel America can do? Only if you're comfortable and willing, of course. No pressure.

I have another sensitive question, only if you're willing as well: do you ever get depressed in there? If so, how have you learned to cope?

I'm newly seeing a therapist for my first time. Pretty excited though it took a minute to get started. The first one I tried was horrible but I've now connected with a woman who is intriguing in having previously worked on the stock market in New York before becoming a counselor. I like that she is into analytical business while holding a high value for emotional communication.

She shared that she knew 50 people who lost their lives in the world trade attacks on 9/11. After losing my friends in the fire this year I find comfort in speaking vulnerably with a person who also knows what grief comes when people disappear unexpectedly due to traumatic events.

My major motivators in seeking therapy are 3 fold. The first is dealing with ongoing grief from the passing of my friends. The second is improving my interpersonal communication approaches. I have patterns in intimate ongoing relationships where I tend to get frustrated and lash out at those closest to me. I've always done this with girlfriends and have lost a few great ones from my lack of self management. Never physical abuse, just saying things in anger that don't really communicate my interests. Likewise, I've struggled in work situations. After cooking in loud kitchens forever, I sometimes am too much for professional colleagues. I care a lot about work and invest a lot of energy in being successful. I try to communicate clearly but the high expectations of my drive to achieve have left some thinking of me as condescending. I can see what they mean though I certainly don't intend this to be. So hopefully I can find some new paths.

Thirdly, I find myself depressed here and there. Even with my job search: some days it's hard to stay positive, especially as political conditions and economic systems appear increasingly dismal. All in all, my life is great and I'm mostly a happy person. But some days things are cloudy.

As part of beginning therapy I have reached out to my sisters and asked them to share any relevant  diagnosis and resulting medication choices. I've known since childhood that mental health was an almost ubiquitous challenge for the whole of my family. And I saw therapists fail with my mother time and again while witnessing both my sisters enter various kinds of treatments with mixed results.

Still, I was shocked to read the depth of medication and diagnosis that my sisters have recently shared with me. My middle sister also helped refresh my memory of my mom’s conditions, medications and family history. I had forgotten that her father, although adopted, had been labeled schizophrenic. Obviously there is no genetic connection but as my sister appropriately noted that being raised in a household with these types of conditions can also affect one's adult development.

So here I am. Reasonably happy but aware that I suffer from situational depression as well as limited anger and frustration. Feeling pretty damn lucky in light of the struggles those most closely related to me have continued to face since our childhood.

I admit it is pretty wild each time I look back. The more I study the legacy of global capitalism and the role of American imperialism, the more I become aware of the privilege I received growing up as an American male of middle class status. For a long time, I wrote off any sadness or feelings of emotional trauma as overly dramatic and unfounded due to my privileged upbringing. But now more than ever, I have creeping memories of family events that I seem to have suppressed in convincing myself that I had no right to feeling emotionally challenged from my childhood.

Please understand that I am far from asserting I was abused in any traditional sense. I hesitate to place myself any where near such a label as I feel that would devalue the significance of experience so many others have had to endure in this truly messed up world.

It's fleet week here. I stepped out to get a coffee and saw the blue angels flying fighter jets in formation over the city. I remember running a food vending station at an air show years ago. My location was right next to the crowd stands and so I got to watch all these amazing jets and planes race by all day long. I've also been on an aircraft carrier once in South Carolina.

These are the creations of man, or better stated in a non-gendered expression, the result of human ingenuity. To say the least, we are impressive creatures posing powerful intellectual potentials. But I'm left wondering what it says about our species when we acknowledge that many of our most monumental feats are focused about death, destruction and oppression.

The world, or at least the human experience of it, appears to be dying and at an increasing rate. I have limited knowledge of how limited your knowledge is as a result of your incarceration. I think the briefest statement is to say things look bleak from most any perspective. The Cold War is in full effect again, poverty and the division between wealthy and poor is widening, and climate-related emergencies are increasing at a rapid rate whether our government chooses to acknowledge it or not.

The catch is that all these considerations are largely the result of human action and interaction, and in my view particularly the outcome of social systems that lack compassion born from respect for equality of being. Yourself and the many others imprisoned in our nation and across the world come to mind as I struggle with these thoughts. Malcom X wrote in his biography that the most cruel thing a society can do to an individual is to place them in a cage.

I recognize from your writings that some good has come from the programs you have engaged in during your sentence. I'm glad for that at least. I do hear some sense of achievement and hope as I read of your accomplishments and ongoing betterment activities. Likewise, I am aware that your crime, regardless of your remorse, which I believe is sincerely genuine, was a heinous act requiring some societal response.

Yet Malcom X's words continue to ring in my head, especially as the house I'm in shakes from the jets flying closely above in demonstration of the destructive power of our nation's political might. Something is very not right here. Maybe you weren't a child at 17, but after all our letters and the time spent as boys I struggle to accept that you as a person are simply an animal so threatening to the world that you should be caged. Or that caging an individual is actually for that person's benefit.

And in the same regard, I struggle to accept the prison system as fair and just while being aware of the disproportionate incarceration of minority groups and people of color. We have a nation that more strictly regulates a woman's reproductive rights than an adult's access to technologies solely focused on the termination of life. That is not just, fair or respectable.

I am glad you've found success in your living condition and that you've embraced the opportunity to both help others and prepare for re-entry. But I'd be lying if I said I believed in the system's expressed intent to rehabilitate and support convicted individuals for success upon release. It's hard enough for the average individual to get a job and I know that a felony record only exasperates this universal struggle.

I am optimistic for you though. I know you to be kind, well mannered and focused on positively supporting those around you. I think that orientation goes a long way in a world where success is significantly impacted by both an individual's sheer will and their connection to gatekeepers who hold access to limited resources such as employment opportunities. And so, I like to imagine that you have impressed many who you've worked with to a point where you'll have the opportunity to pursue your dreams upon their social connections when released.

I suppose this letter is far too heavy and long winded. Best to wrap it up. My apologies for not being more up beat. Please accept my vulnerability in sharing the rather dismal view that currently dominates my outlook. I hope you're well and continuing to find peace in working forward toward the next stages.

Best regards,

[godsizemylife-blog]

Has anyone ever asked you this question?

  Of course I hope my loved ones are happy, and I enjoy being a part of their  happiness, but I suspect we need to examine what happiness we’re talking about. Earthly, temporal “happiness” is temporary. Things wear out, clothing goes out of style, the newest update of electronic gadgets seems to come annually, rendering whatever I have now “obsolete” and therefore no longer useful; “stuff” collects dust and can be broken or stolen or lost; swimming pools need constant sweeping and chemistry added; lovely lawns need to be mowed, watered,fertilized, weeded and protected from insects; a bigger house means bigger  electric bills; even my good memories of wonderful vacations and experiences  in exotic places can be lost to vascular dementia, Alzheimer’s, strokes …. and sadly, people we love move away, get sick, and eventually die.

So what kind of happiness does last? And what kind of happiness should we be hoping for, praying for, and investing in for ourselves and our loved ones? Jesus sure had. and has,  the answer to these questions!

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust[a] destroy and where thieves break in and steal, 20 but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Matthew 6: 19-21 ESV

13 Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.” 14 But he said to him, “Man, who made me a judge or arbitrator over you?” 15 And he said to them, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” 16 And he told them a parable, saying, “The land of a rich man produced plentifully, 17 and he thought to himself, ‘What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?’ 18 And he said, ‘I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods.19 And I will say to my soul, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.”’ 20 But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ 21 So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God.” 22 And he said to his disciples, “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, nor about your body, what you will put on. 23 For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. 24 Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! 25 And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?[a] 26 If then you are not able to do as small a thing as that, why are you anxious about the rest? 27 Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin,[b] yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 28 But if God so clothes the grass, which is alive in the field today, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith! 29 And do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried. 30 For all the nations of the world seek after these things, and your Father knows that you need them. 31 Instead, seek his[c] kingdom, and these things will be added to you. 32 “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Luke 12: 13-32 ESV

You will recognize them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorn bushes, or figs from thistles? 17 So, every healthy tree bears good fruit, but the diseased tree bears bad fruit. 18 A healthy tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a diseased tree bear good fruit. 19 Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 20 Thus you will recognize them by their fruits. 21 “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. 22 On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ 23 And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’ 24 “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. 25 And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. 26 And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand.27 And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.”28 And when Jesus finished these sayings, the crowds were astonished at his teaching, 29 for he was teaching them as one who had authority, and not as their scribes. Matthew 7: 16-29 ESV

The evangelist Oswald Chambers spoke about where we can find true, lasting happiness that enriches our life now and gives us the blessing of happiness eternally with God in His Kingdom.

“In the biographies of eminent saints, you will find many instances recorded in which Jesus has been pleased in a very special manner to speak to their souls and to unfold the wonders of His person; in this way their souls have been steeped in happiness, and they have thought themselves to be in heaven. Although they were not there, they were close to the threshold of it–for when Jesus manifests Himself to His people, it is heaven on earth; it is paradise in embryo; it is bliss begun.

Special manifestations of Christ exercise a holy influence on the believer’s heart. One effect will be humility. If a man says, “I have had such-and-such spiritual communications, I am a great man,” he has never had any communion with Jesus at all; for “the LORD regards the lowly, but the haughty he knows from afar.”1 He does not need to come near the haughty to know them and will never give them any visits of love. Another effect will be happiness; for in God’s presence there are pleasures forevermore. Holiness will be sure to follow. A man who has no holiness has never had this manifestation. Some men profess a great deal; but we must not believe anyone unless we see that his actions agree with what he says. “Do not be deceived: God is not mocked.”2 He will not bestow His favors upon the wicked, for He will neither cast away a perfect man, nor will He respect an evildoer. Thus there will be three effects of nearness to Jesus–humility, happiness, and holiness. May God give them to you,”Christian!”

I can honestly say I HAVE tasted the Presence of Jesus here on Earth. Decades ago after one Easter sunrise service at our church, very simple but from the hearts of everyone who added their creativity and passion to the service, God blessed us, “kissed” us, honored us by the weight of His Presence in our little sanctuary for a full  ten minutes, when none of us could move or speak, so powerful was the sense of the Person and Holiness of God. And ever since, I have never wanted anything more than I want to be in that Presence again and again and forever.

For two years on Monday mornings, for three hours I’ve been blessed to be part of a worship intercession group, a gathering of some 15-20 women from 8-12 churches united there in the passion to see the unsaved saved, our loved ones come to know and receive Jesus as Savior, nations, governmental bodies, terrorist groups come to the Cross of Jesus and find God’s incredible, unmerited, lavish love for them. I truly believe we’re on the same “wavelength” as God’s heart, and for that reason the  Presence of God shows up regularly. Yes, through closed eyelids I’ve “seen” the fluttering wings of angels – and no, I am not drunk or “on” anything other than Jesus, Holy Spirit, and Father God – and others in the room actually saw them at the same time! We feel blessed, loved, empowered, humbled, strengthened,cherished, and yes, we know God’s broken heart, too, to see everyone we care about come to genuinely and fully receive His love. I read recently that sin doesn’t just break God’s laws; it breaks God’s heart, and that matters much more than religious legalism! I never want to break God’s heart because He love me so much and gave so much for me to be his!

Yes, I feel “happy” on Mondays in that group and in God’s Presence, I feel like my true self, created to be an intercessor and worshiper, fulfilling part of my purpose and calling from my Creator, Father, Lord, Savior, Redeemer, King, Friend, the Lover of my soul.

“Don’t you want my happiness?” YES, I WANT EVERY ONE OF YOU READING THIS TO TRULY EXPERIENCE RELATIONSHIP, LOVING RELATIONSHIP WITH ALMIGHTY GOD THROUGH JESUS! I want my family, my friends, my acquaintances, my  neighbors, even my enemies, especially my enemies and the ones who’ve asked me this question, to KNOW and EXPERIENCE this happiness that transcends, overwhelms, surpasses temporal Earthly “good things.”

The whole reason I post this blog, the whole reason I turned parts of it into a devotional prayer journal “Move Your “…BUT…”- A Journey Into God’s Heart”  for you to make your own and speak intimately with God’s Holy Spirit yourself, is this very reason: that you might know the happiness that comes from relationship, as a child of Almighty God who made you for loving relationship with Him. If I could box it and sell it, or better yet, give it away,, I would, not for my gain, but for the pure joy of everyone on Earth knowing the happiness and breathless joy I’ve known and know. Sadly I can’t do that.  Only God can do that for you,  through Jesus, and by the Holy Spirit, but if you DO want happiness that won’t ever go away, ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS ASK FOR IT!

If I could only transplant my heart and what I feel in my spirit into yours … that would be true bliss for me. What I can do is share this with you, in hopes that you’ll tgrust God’s love enough to ask and open your heart to Him. Don’t you want my happiness? 🙂

Take a look at the people singing this song. Do they look unhappy??!!! Fill in the blank with your own words No, they look __________________________________________________

A  “…;BUT…” to pray: Jesus, I admit I want ______________________________________ BUT YOU have the truly lasting happiness that will never leave me, never forsake me, make my life on of meaning, purpose,  and  ultimately, humbled joy when I stand before the Throne of Your Father God, so I’m asking you in faith, come into me and ___________________________

____________________________________________________________ in Jesus’ name, by the Holy Spirit, and I’m waiting and listening and eager and downright hungry!

“Don’t you want my happiness?” Has anyone ever asked you this question? Of course I hope my loved ones are happy, and I enjoy being a part of their  happiness, but I suspect we need to examine what happiness we’re talking about.

[thebookbeard-blog]

January was a weird month. I went through the first few days of 2017 feeling like I was coming down from a hangover of 2016, and I wish I meant that literally (I stayed in on New Year's Eve, partly because my mother spent the day at the hospital, partly because screw the idea of celebrating 2016). And then January just kept on going, and it just got weirder and weirder. You know what I'm talking about.

So I wanted to start out my reading year as gently as possible. I don't think I could have handled anything else. I wanted to pick out books that, to me at least, seemed warm and inviting.

Dr. Seuss & Mr. Geisel by Judith and Neil Morgan seemed like it fit the bill. I had already been inspired by kaptainkristian's superb video essay on Dr. Seuss and his rhyming techniques to finally pick this up (it had been sitting on my shelves for a while). Writer biographies are among my favorite things to read, anyway, so this seemed like a good place to start.

And it was. And it was indeed a gentle book, too -- although this didn’t always work to it’s advantage.

The Morgans were apparently good friends and neighbors of the Geisels, and so had access to a wealth of information and intimacies that would not have been available to many other would-be biographers. And this very much shows through in the book -- it reads very intimate. It’s an admiring and affectionate look at the life and labors of a well-beloved author.

A bit too admiring and affectionate at times, it turns out.

This is a mostly thorough book, covering Geisel's work from a very young age, up to college and adulthood and beyond. This life work is divided into chapters covering whatever big work Geisel was putting out that year (he really was a prolific man). A couple of these deal heavily with Geisel's political cartoons he created during the Second World War. The Morgans are quick to praise their artistry and ingenuity as well as the influence that they held, all the while glossing over the fact that a lot of them happened to also be extremely racist and anti-Japanese. This is a fact of Dr. Seuss that I had known for a while, and so I was on the look-out for discussion about it within the book. Alas. I wanted to make note of this in light of the fact that some of these cartoons have recently regained some prominence, given certain current events.

One other instance of the book being too gentle on its subject has to do with the chapter covering the death by suicide of Helen Palmer -- Geisel's first wife and a children’s author in her own right. It's a sad and somber account, and you feel like the the authors are writing about the death of an actual friend and person, and of a subject, which is commendable. I learned later, though, that one of the major reasons Helen decided to take her own life was the fact that Geisel was apparently having an affair with one of their close friends -- the same woman that later became his second wife. This is, given the Morgans relationship with the Geisels, an understandable enough omission, to be sure, but it is also a very glaring one in retrospect.

And I guess an argument could be made about the ethics and moralities of having such personal things in a book that, to be fair, largely focuses on the creative aspect of its subject. But I'm of the opinion that unpleasant details like this should be acknowledged and discussed. Especially so in biographies of well-known and well-loved. They are the things that show us that the people we admire are every bit as flawed and damaged as the rest of us, but are still capable of making the occasional magic.

Those are just two examples that I thought were interesting to think about. As I said, though, the bulk of the book deals with the creative work of an imminently fascinating and intensely prolific figure, and it does so wonderfully -- the chapters dealing the creation Seuss's "major" books being particularly illuminating. 

Dr. Seuss was and still is an influential and inspiring figure, warts and all. He was an artist -- a proper artist -- who did a tremendous amount of good, not just for children’s literature, but for literature in general. And he was, much like the Cat in the Hat, a trickster figure, larger than life itself. Large enough to cast a deep shadow over an entire industry.

It’s just important to recognize the rest of it all, too.

Seconds by Bryan Lee O'Malley was the second book I read this year -- something that was completely unintentional but still greatly pleases me. Lost at Sea was the third. Both were re-reads.

Seconds is about Katie Clay, head chef of a relatively successful restaurant who dreams of one day opening up her own. After a series of setbacks that keeps delaying this dream she is visited by a house spirit who gives her the ability the change past mistakes by ingesting some mushrooms.

So, you know, hardcore realism.

O'Malley's books seem to come into my life at pivotal moments. Scott Pilgrim was a very formative book for me: I was an insufferable hipster kid with insufferable hipster friends, and was close enough to the age of the characters that I saw my life reflected on its cartoony pages -- which was an interesting and dissecting kind of experience, to say the least. It's a hell of a thing to see a reflection of yourself in the hero of a story only to realize that both the hero and yourself have actually been complete and utter gits all this time ha ha ha let me tell you.

Seconds also came out at an age-appropriate time, and again I saw myself reflected in the main character, Katie, with her dreams and her passions and her fear of failure and mundane complacency. I was in my second year of a projected three-year stint at an office job, but, much like Katie and her bigger and fancier restaurant, I had higher and loftier aspirations.

When I came to re-read it a couple of weeks ago, I was closer to the character not only in terms of age (we were both 29 now), but in situation as well. I was still at my office job (fifth year of the projected three year stint) and while being extremely good and efficient at it, and appreciating the job’s relative safety, I found myself, like Katie, being frustrated by the mundane realities and setbacks of life. Trying to keep up with dreams is a challenge, but I wish it didn't always have to feel that way. It's exhausting.

Seconds is a story about taking control of your narrative at the expense of other people, and the meaning and consequences of it. It's a story about do-overs and what-ifs and what-might-have-beens. The main character finds all this out via the use of magic mushrooms, and while I'm not exactly fitting to go out into the real world in search of some enchanted fungi, I'm not going to say I wouldn't do the same as Katie did were I to come across such a thing.

This was, I believe, my third time reading the book. I've taken away something new after each read, and my love for it keeps growing exponentially. It's definitely O'Malley's most mature work, both in terms of themes and story, as well as art -- combining his hyper-graphic, chibi style of cartooning with the semi-realistic backgrounds and props of Jason Fischer and the gorgeous expressionist coloring of Nathan Fairbairn. 

They all compliment and enhance each other so well. Seconds has become my favorite of Bryan's books.

Lost at Sea is the only O'Malley book I've read at a time when I wasn't anywhere close to the age of the characters, since they are all teenagers. And this is very much a teenager story, all about trying to find yourself and the embarking on road trips in order to do so. It's a story about that deep and lonely aimlessness all moody and sensitive adolescents inevitably feel. 

It’s a feeling that we never really manage to outgrow, the vestiges of which manage to remain etched onto our aging souls, surfacing mostly during terribly long and existential nights. I was very much feeling when I first picked it up last year, and I was still feeling that when I decided to read it again this year. It helped both times. One of those books you read as an adult and wish you could go back in time and make a younger version of you read it as well. Maybe with the help of some mushrooms....

I love Bryan Lee O'Malley's books a lot. I hope he keeps making them for ever.

Between these I was also reading the collection Jillian Tamaki's SuperMutant Magic Academy, her gorgeous and gorgeously weird webcomic. Ostensibly the story of a group of super powered/magical/gifted teenagers at a boarding school, it’s described as a mash-up between Harry Potter and the X-Men, but really it's nothing like these. It is its own strange little thing.

I love that you can tell it began as an excuse for Tamaki to just let loose on the page. Tamaki is known for her crisp and clean line art that she uses for her books, but the art in a lot of SuperMutant strips -- and especially in the early ones -- are rough, almost sloppy, as if they were done quickly and in the moment. It fits the throw-away nature of the humor. The art style starts to get tighter as the strip goes on, and the light gags begin give way to darker jokes and meditations. Tamaki never chooses to permanently stay in one form or the other, though, neither in terms of art or story -- they never stop fluctuating. This gives the comic a kind of fluidity that make the strips range from the relatively straightforward

to the surreal

to the somber

more or less on a strip-to-strip basis.

(My favorites of these are the ones featuring Everlasting Boy, her immortal, silent character, whose strips consist of what I can only call playful existentialism.)

The strips are mostly self-contained, one-shot things, although the last few dozen that end the collection feature a poignant take on the Chosen One story that is so wonderfully and beautifully done that it borders on frustrating (it is so short). It's so good that it could have been expanded to it's own graphic novel. Maybe one day. What do you think, E.B.?