Monday, March 24, 2003
So Davis gathered just enough silver to procure Mrs. Gertrude’s VW Vanagen from the lot in which it sat like a flower pot for sixteen years. Oh yes, he’d go far with it. He’d have his guitar strapped to his shoulder and his paintbrush in his pocket. There’s no tellin’ where Davis might find himself once he fixed up the thing. There was a bridge that crossed the Bearing Straits, yes? He’d be in Spain before the New Year, sipping sangria enjoying the bull fights. He could be like Hemingway soaking up the Mediterranean sun basking in the futility of it all. He could leave everything behind, his girl, his dreams, his hope, if he could just rig the engine and replace a few pistons.
- kimmel
7:51 PM
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
And if grit be in my shoes, I will love still.
And if the roof shingles crumble, I will love still.
And if my bones whither to ash or clothes wilt to lint, I will love still.
And pelt me with ice, and pierce me with sand, I will love still.
And burn my mind with sun and blind my vision with light,
And I (still) will love still.
- kimmel
9:20 PM
Wednesday, March 12, 2003
“Jaime?”
“Yes, Davis.”
“I am as withered as a wilted farm stool. I cannot bear this, anymore.”
“What is it that you bear?” Jaime asked.
“This . . . this . . . awareness.”
“Awareness?”
“More like, vivid awareness. No, more like lonely, vivid, awareness. I see His fingerprint everywhere. I see His hands in all the things of this world. Look here.” Davis pointed to the library’s computer monitor and it’s photo display of a striking, laser starburst. “This wallpaper, here on the monitor, this blue laser graphic streak thing, I see Him.”
“Who?”
“God, of course.”
“Where, where do you see God?”
“In the laser, man. Come on.”
“What do you mean, you see God?”
“He’s here, here in the laser. And he’s behind this laser—this spectacle. See him; oh He is so clear and too He mocks me. Hear him whisper. He says: ‘Look at me. Here I am.’ And what a peacock. He displays his wears like a proud magician. He’s not shy.”
“Is this He you see?” Jaime said.
“Oh how can I tell. He hides his face. I look and do not find, I seek and do not discover; He is a child playing hide and go seek.”
“Perhaps there’s an explanation.”
“Explanation,” Davis said.
“Do you look at a painting and resent the artist when he is not present as you view it?” Jaime said.
“Well . . . .”
“The why begrudge Him? Is He not like this artist?”
- kimmel
8:09 PM
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