Redefining Rockel

You know I never discuss female thermodynamics - Lou; Rescue Me

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The WORD of the Week

Matthew 3:7-10

But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to where he was baptizing, he said to them: "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?

Produce fruit in keeping with repentance.

And do not think you can say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father.' I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham.

The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.

Stupid Fact of the Week

There was only one civilian casualty during the three-day Battle of Gettysburg

13 February, 2005

Politics take a backseat for a day

I am he. It. The creature. The one who lurks in the shadows. Seeking out his prey and devouring none. I remain motionless; controlled; controlling yet not, festering in the ironies of emotion sweeping over me.

I see the lights in the darkness; the indifferent beacons of momentary contrast. I search the horizon. There is nothing. No one. Those who have been have fled as though they had sensed an evil approaching.

The rain begins to pour out of the heavens with an unknowing fury, assaulting each intrusion with unrelenting constancy. Gravity pulls each insignificant drop to the ground as though it longs for them, yet I remain standing.

I inhale deeply and taste the cruel bitterness of the night air. It is harsh and crisp, yet somehow refreshing. I exhale, allowing my lungs to export the toxic mix of humanity and godliness. The task is completed. I have lived.

The rain begins to subside, and settles itself into a hushed rhythmic patter that echoes my heart.

My heart, jaded by the night and black as the same, calls me to the light, but I remain. Lonely and alone, it is my sole companion, yet I pay it no mind. I welcome the emptiness as one welcomes the ground beneath his feet.

The rain comes harder now, challenging me to stand against in, yet still I remain. My heart beats faster, in time with the rain, though I know not for fear or anticipation. It begs me forth again. Again I yield.

The rain builds to a roar. A monstrous scream from He who caused this. My heart struggles to keep tempo. It cannot. It stops.

Alone in the dark the rain continues, but I hear no noise. My companion is gone. Apathetic to my surroundings, I pass my gaze carefully across the cityscape, assuming it will be my last. I know not what I hope to gain from the dismal view.

Pain grabs hard at my chest and I feel myself weakening. It courses through the entirety of my body, paralyzing me where I stand. My head begins to swim and my body goes numb.

Halfway between hallucination and sheer terror a fire begins to burn within my soul. Like the awakening of a volcano, my body quakes with this newfound passion. It stiffens my body and steadies my legs beneath it.

With all that is within me I throw myself out into the rain. The strength of the storm overpowers me and I am immediately brought down to my knees. The sound is now deafening as the rain beats hard and sharp against my face and body. It is too much. I crumple further towards the muddy ground.

I tighten my aching muscles, pressing with everything I can muster against the onslaught. But it is not enough. He who sent the rain raises his voice as I am thrust down against the ground, my face only inches from the cold, hateful earth.

Pain seizes me once more, a thousand times more powerful than before. Tears well up in my eyes and glide down my ragged face. They cling to my chin like sailors clutching to the mast of a storm-tossed ship, holding on for dear life. And then, one by one, their grasp is loosed.

Tears by the hundreds flee from my eyes, fearful, as am I, that my end is near.

But as I watch through tear-stained eyes at the multitudes of saline drops falling from my face, I see a storm inside of me more powerful than this which He brought to slay me; more powerful than any.

The stillness of my chest cries out to me and I lurch back, thrust my face into the storm and let out a cry from the very cellar of my soul. There is a fire in my eyes and a churning in my soul. I rise up still more and plant one of my feet solidly on the ground. A courage like I have never known races through my body like a locomotive. I quicken my remaining strength and rise up, planting my foot squarely next to its like, and stand triumphant in the thick of the storm.

And then, from that familiar place, it begins.

The beating. My heart!

In one giant wave my body is brought back to new life.

The rain falls softly on my face now, cooling and refreshing me. He knows there is nothing now he can do. I smile as the storm clouds roll away and the sun begins to rise.

A new day has begun. It is a good day. And should the night return, I shall be ready.

posted by Rockel @ 3:39 PM

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Lyrics of the Week

ON THE NICKEL
by Tom Waits

("I'd like to do a new song here. This is eh, it's about downtown Los Angeles on 5th Street. And eh all the winos affectionately refer to it as The Nickel. So this is kind of a hobo's lullaby.")

sticks and stones will break my bones,
but i always will be true, and when
your mama is dead and gone,
i'll sing this lullabye just for you,
and what becomes of all the little boys,
who never comb their hair,
well they're lined up all around the block,
on the nickel over there.

so you better bring a bucket,
there is a hole in the pail,
and if you don't get my letter,
then you'll know that i'm in jail,
and what becomes of all the little boys,
who never say their prayers,
well they're sleepin' like a baby,
on the nickel over there.

and if you chew tobacco, and wish upon a star,
well you'll find out where the scarecrows sit,
just like punchlines between the cars,
and i know a place where a royal flush,
can never beat a pair, and even thomas jefferson,
is on the nickel over there.

so ring around the rosie, you're sleepin' in the rain,
and you're always late for supper,
and man you let me down again,
i thought i heard a mockingbird, roosevelt knows where,
you can skip the light, with grady tuck,
on the nickel over there.

so what becomes of all the little boys,
who run away from home,
well the world just keeps gettin' bigger,
once you get out on your own,
so here's to all the little boys,
the sandman takes you where,
you'll be sleepin' with a pillowman,
on the nickel over there.

so let's climb up through that button hole,
and we'll fall right up the stairs,
and i'll show you where the short dogs grow,
on the nickel over there.