Pardon Any Typographical Errors

February 25, 2008 — Leave a comment

This is probably going to become an increasingly irrelevant post as you continue to read.

That is just a courtesy warning I extended to you as the reader, you are free to ignore it and wander into the deepest recesses of my ramblings after a relaxing day off spent almost exclusively at Starbucks reading and thinking.

For starters, while I should note that Dallas boasts a rather healthy supply of restaurants, and not shabby ones at that, several key eateries that compose my diet remain lacking. They are as follows:

  • Quaker Steak and Lube (all you can eat wings during lunch)
  • Shane’s Rib Shack (self explanatory)
  • Zaxby’s (chicken goodness)
  • Five Guys Burgers and Fries
  • Blue Coast Burrito (best chips and salsa)
  • Fuji (hibachi steakhouse w/drive thru)
  • The Gondolier (best pizza)
  • Che Guevare (s/p?) (next best chips, best quesadillas)

I felt obligated to at least place the above in some category in your mind for you if hadn’t heard of the wonders of Blue Coast, the ubiquitous effects of eating at Five Guys, or could not discern whether Quaker Steak involved and oil change or not. At any rate, it should obvious how my spring break will be spent. That’s right. Eating. Oh and probably sitting at Starbucks all day reading and writing silly blogs like this one.

Moving on, I picked up an old school copy of Moby Dick on Friday, along with an even older school illustrated hardback copy of the complete works of Lewis Carroll.  Twas brillig and slithy toves indeed, right?

There’s nothing quite like reading all old book as the sun sets and a gentle breeze starts to blow, all the while being serenaded by the afternoon jams of your choice.  It is the essence of what Sunday afternoons are now about. At least in my world that is.

In hindsight, I realized I worked almost 40 hours this week in addition to the 14 hours of class.

Somehow it didn’t seem all that bad, almost as if something carried me through it in what felt like my own strength, but certainly couldn’t be. I think there’s a name for it. Oh that’s right. Grace.

Musically, no one that I listen to regularly seems to speak more of grace than As Cities Burn. For example, from “Empire:”

And I was a middle son,
between two wayward ones.
I was more deserving of my parents love.

I had an angels smile,
hiding a vultures bite.
I had no use for your redeeming blood.

Aren’t I glory, glorious?

Glory, glorious.
Aren’t we glory, glorious?
Aren’t we worthy, worthy of hearts at our feet?

Cause I was a pharisee,
I never saw my need for grace;
Then your love came to me
stood next to mine, and I saw that I was poor.

Show me I was poor.
Show us we are,
show us we are.

Glory, glorious.
We are glory, glorious.
Not from what good we have done
but from being the least.

Or a little more explicitly from “The Hoard”

They say that good boys walk straight on white lines.
Good boys keep their livers clean,
And smoke out of their lungs.
‘Cause it’s all about what you’ve done,
Good boys don’t make mistakes to learn from.

‘Cause when heaven comes,
They won’t be caught being young.

Grace make your way to the well,
To those who deserve it.
After all they’ve earned it.
But vain, it’s in vain,
‘Cause they don’t need it.

They’re steady, steady breathers,
Who won’t lift a finger for the gasping weaker.
You just hoard your hollow completion,
Like it’s something wearing thin.
Like it’s gonna get you in, When heaven comes.

‘Cause when heaven comes,
I swear it comes in love.

Grace make your way to the well,
To those who deserve it.
After all they’ve earned it.
But vain, it’s in vain,
‘Cause they don’t need it.

Now I let go of your hand somewhere between,
Love and what it demands of me.

Grace make your way. 

Now the lyrical content is a little sparse, but you can either pick up the album, or download the songs off of iTunes if you really want to hear the emotional force with which the idea is delivered.  It seems to grab my attention every time. Which is why I’m going to see them along with Emery tomorrow, making for a rather good show with at least two excellent live performances.

But back to less significant matters.

I can’t really tell why my typing is deteriorating, or whether my keyboard is not tracking with my fingers as well as it used to. My laptop has been through a lot, transport and such, as well as intense usage. It may be on the way out. Hopefully not.

I didn’t realize how scene this Starbucks was until now that I am here after dark. That’s usually when they come out, or at least that was my experience at Turkey Creek, wading through the nocturnally natured adolescents noting band t-shirts here and there of artists I like, and then wondering whose music tastes it reflects more on.

That is probably the topic of another post related to the evolving sub-culture I am sometimes more apart of than others, but will probably undoubtedly surface in the coming weeks, or months.

In light of this, I should probably stop before digressing into even more meaningless drivel. For more insightful writing, see the update to the Marturo blog.

Until next time, keep the dream alive.

oh how sweet the sound
I know it saved but is it changing a wretch like me
oh my God how sweet is the sound
I once was blind but now I just look away


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I'm an avid reader, musician, and high school Bible teacher living in central Florida. I have many paperback books and our house smells of rich glade air freshners. If you want to know more, then let's connect!

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