What Happened to God?

Not the God that everyone takes His/Her name in vain, but the God who wrote the great blog God's Blog. God has been mysteriously silent for almost a year. What's up?

Judging from the spelling and general quality of writing, I'm guessing "God" lives in the UK. I'm not offended by the sudden cessation of the blog, I just wished there was at least a goodbye. Perhaps things were just too much and He needed some down time. Or perhaps He's been abducted by aliens. Or perhaps God is the same guy who does this blog. Hopefully, the author is still on Earth and has Internet access. If not, I hope God gets well soon.

You Know You're Getting Old When...

• The cake & ice cream gives you a hangover.


• You get presents that you can't identify. What is this?


• You get a rejection slip from Poetry magazine


• You get a call from the giver of the unidenitfied gift and have to say, "Thanks for the prezzie. It's gorgeous. What is it?" and then have the gift giver say "I don't know. I was hoping you could figure it out. You're unemployed."


• Oh yeah--I'm now a year older and still unemployed.


• Your Mom's gift is a trip to the Zoo :-)(On Lemur Day, no less)While pushing your Mom in a wheelchair, you force your Mom to go to the Children's Zoo, despite her rather loud protests, only to discover it's under construction. So you wind up holding a Which Animal Has the Cutest Butt contest. The winner was the agouti (pictured), a relative of the guinea pig, which is world renowned for it's cute butt-age.


• You forgive Peter Gabriel for not sending a B-day gift THIS year, either.


• You suddenly realize, through the pain of the cake hangover and yet another rejection notice, that Peter Gabriel now looks remarkably like a hamster

I'll Be 37. What the Hell Happened?

On Saturday, I'll be 37. Yikes! How did that happen? Seems like only yesterday I was 12. If I was a horse, I'd most likey be dead. If I was Jesus, I'd DEFINATELY be dead.

I am, of course, reminded about the Penn State football coach Joe Paterno, who's been the coach since before I my older brother was concived (EEEWWW!)and is still driving everyone nuts at age 500, or whatever it really is. In September, he was knocked down by a player at practice, snapped three ribs, but told nobody about it. No one would EVER have known if not for this injury. It's kinda hard not to reminded of JoPa, as he's known, when you live in the Philly area. JoPa even has a STATUE at Penn State even though he's still hard at work. American football is definatley a religion over here, so perhaps praying to Joe can help give me strength....or perhaps I should just shut up and get back to collecting rejection slips. My Dad has hinted he'd get me a couple of the Peter Gabriel (pictured) CDs that went up in the August 2005 fire. So maybe I'll just dwell on that.

Happy Chaos Never Dies Day

If you're anything like me, you dread this time of year. The only good international holiday--Halloween--has come and gone, but those damn others are in the way before Beltane (May Day) the OTHER great international holiday. There is a desperate need for decent holidays. I discovered on several sights the "unofficial" holiday on Nov 9 of Chaos Never Dies Day. (Usually, that's known as Christmas Eve, but there's no cruel and unusual shopping involved). Choas, is of course, (besides the baddies in Get Smart)the original state of the Universe from which all things come--it just didn't have any of those boring laws of time, space or comphrehension. I like to think of the universe before this one as being Tiamat, the essence of Chaos that seems to but is not really tamed.

I'm not sure how official Chaos Never Dies Day is, but I've got a feeling that's the point. So what can one do on Choas Never Dies Day? Glad you asked:

• Check out your horroscope--Chaos style


• Chant as much of you can of The Principia Discordia There's even a Swedish translation, to there's no excuse.


• Send off a couple of manuscripts of short stories (always good for a laugh)


• Turn on all the electrical appliances in your home so there can be a power outage(another guaranteed hoot)


• Watch Get Smart

That's is from me. Get Chaos-ing.

Oh Me of Little Faith...

In the world of me, I have received two more rejection slips, one for the aforementioned short story and another about the perils of bacon butties with mustard. But Sunday, I went to a writing workshop by the Poet Laureate of Lansdowne (the town next to mine), Dan Simpson (no relation). Dan is blind and needs a guide dog. (So, what's YOUR excuse, Rena???) This is the second workshop I've attended led by Dan. The first one kept me in the habit of trying to write nearly every day--this one generated a lot of story ideas! I was also congratulated for the three rejection slips.

In one exercise, we drew a small weird object out of a baggie and had to write a story on that. Objects included a pack of tissues, a bandanna, and a broken radio. Mine was a wedding photo. Everyone--even the shy folks--did very well. As Dan was congratulating us, the room was suddenly rocked by a thunderous

SNORE!

Chandler, Dan's guide dog, was snoozing under the tables. I said, "Everyone's a critic."

This is not the only time I took a workshop from a town's official poet. In 2004 and 2005, I enjoyed workshops by Kevan Manwaring, the Bard of Bath. I see he got that book published! Well done, Kevan. I'd love to see Dan and Kevan in a room together. No snoozing then.

Laurie Cabot's Back on the Caffeine

For those Wicca-challenged, Laurie Cabot is one of America's most respected Witches (and yes, she is the Official Witch of Salem). She writes a few books, reads a few palms, has a website, generally your basic Witch. Once, she was into civil rights for Witches, spurred on by "The Witches of Eastwick", which she couldn't stand because it made Witches look "silly". Then:

After that burst of activism, she returned to her main passion -- her witchcraft and her shop. "I handed over the work, the letter writing, to another group, but all these years they have done nothing, so we are starting over this month."

"I'd like to canvass the whole of the United States, city by city, and give every official this law memorandum," she said, producing a white four-page pamphlet on the constitutional rights of witches.

OUCH! The "other group" she is referring to is the Witch's League for Public Awareness, a group she founded in 1986. This is a pretty good group, in my opinion. They run a nice website, give out free info when asked and don't stick burning pentagrams on anyone's lawn...even if they REALLY deserve it. To say they've done "nothing" is a little...spiteful, quite frankly. I know we don't have a Witch in the White House, but would a Witch be DUMB enough to want to run for President (or First Lady?) I think not.

I do call myself a Witch (I think Wiccan is a wimpy word), but I'm not into the bells, books and candles as I was seven years ago. I can sense that Witches may be getting a bit uppit about how they are percieved by others...which is preceisely the oppposite reason I became a Witch. I wanted to NOT gove a damn about what anyone thought of me...except ME. The day Wicca becomes an organized religion is the day I start hiding my pentacle under the mattress. Witches have a great sense of humor, and I'm afraid High Preistess Cabot makes us look like stiffs.

Got My First Official Rejection Slip

Yiperdoodle. In five days, my mauscript for the short story "Why Did the Dragon Cross the Road?" came back rejected from Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine. I'm glad my first one was from a big mag. The typewritten note said, "It just didn't capture my interest, I'm afraid." My folks think I should frame it. There used to be a saying, "If you fall off a horse three times, THEN you're a rider!" I guess falling from three mags makes me a writer. My Dad wondered why it didn't hold the Assistant Editor's interest. "Didn't you kill anyone?" he asked.

"No, but the narrator's leg gets ripped off." I answered.

Dad, who didn't miss a beat, said, "That's it, then. Kill off the narrator."

"But it's first person, Dad.You know she's not gonna die, because she's narrating."

Hmmm. Dad's got a point, though....

The Only Dog Costume Worth It

From the "Never Say Never Department": I have many a time sworn that if I ever put my dog Pony into a Halloween outfit, I hope someone would put me to sleep. Now I LOOVVEEE Halloween. It's the High Holy Day of the year, as far as I'm concerned. And I do not wish to keep all the fun to humans and not let dogs in, but it just seems a bit...I dunno...CHEAP to dress your dog up as a person. Seems to dishonor the dogness of the dog. My dog would rip the costume up in ten seconds, anyway.

But then I saw this costume online. Yes, it glows in the dark. So not only can you really freak someone out in the nighttime (always a bonus) but it's instructional, too on how a doggie skeleton is sorta put together.

That being said, Pony is staying inside this Halloween. Have a happy Halloweekend!

School Daze

Schools are having more than their fair share of troubles recently. Lack of money, lack of security, lack of books and lack of anyone who gives a tinker's damn. So school boards across the nation, in their infinite wisdom, have decided to ban dodgeball and tag. Oh, that'll take care of all the problems lickey-split.

Of course, my old school would say the problem is not having God in the classroom. This from a school whose motto was (and I kid you not) "The FEAR of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge." Don't give me "the original meaning of fear meant respect" crap--these teachers were FRIGHTENING. I still have nightmares about them. I did well in school for the same reason I accepted Christ as my Savior at the age of four--fear of going to hell. We were obedient because any spark of actual independent thought was efficiently stamped out. Can't have any of that.

It occurs to me that we'd save a lot of bother if we just got rid of school. Just have kids hang about adults, learning whatever they damn well feel like and at a coming of age ceremony, drop them off into a desert with a box of matches for a week. If they live, they've graduated. If not...well, perhaps they shouldn't be swimming in the gene pool.

Too harsh, you say? Well, it's pretty much what we're doing now anyway.

100th Post--Raven Bless Peter Gabriel!

Some good news from me for a change. Peter Gabriel (pictured), canidate to be my Personal God (but lost to Raven)has announced on Friday that he will not be doing the Genesis reunion thingy with the band he helped co-found around the time I was born. (You know Genesis--they unleashed Phil Collins on the world, as well as PG?)I'm broke, and so can not afford any concert tickets.

Now when I was 16--heck, even when I was 26--money was no object in seeing PG on tour (considering he only does it once or twice a decade). I'd beg, borrow, steal until I could press those concert tickets to my heaving bosom (wow--are you ever glad you decided to read this blog today!)until I was signing a funny-smelling contract from Mr. Scratch. I would think, "I could use the grocery money for the tickets! The anticipation of seeing HIM with my own eyes will sustain me!"

Now I'm 36, and have slightly different priorities. My dog comes first, then my Mom, then my writing, then my spirituality, then my sleep, then PG. On the one hand, I feel a twinge of nostaligic sadness that I don't quite possess the devotion I used to, but at least I know now that PG won't take it personally....

...uh, at least, I think so....

Taking the Plunge

Hideho. Since I'm getting nowhere trying to find a "real" job and I'm not back on the street yet, I thought I'd give a go at doing what I live to do for money--writing. This week, I've sent out a short story contest entry and four article/story submissions to:

• The Bark


• Pure Inspiration


• Vestal Review


• Reader's Digest(had to be done)

I'd blog some more, but the latest short story is calling...also, my Mom's cat Sarah keeps rolling on the keyboard, and she's too cute to shoo away. Perhaps I could call this research into a future article?

Personal God Election Results

Alright, the Election Day parody of me to elect the God I'm going to devote myself to didn't pan out (pun intended.)Quite frankly, I doubt anything I could write would be funnier than the campaigns of current Pennslyvannia politicians.

Anyway, only one of the canidates bothered to make any sort of campaign ad for me..sort of. About a week ago, I had a dream of Peter Gabriel being my chauffer (kinda a Baby, You Can Drive My Car kinda thing). Well, in the dream he botched that up. This from a man who took 10 years between albums and 25 years between kids. If I pray to him today, I guess I'll get a reply by the time I'm 64.

So, the winner and ChamPEEN of my worshipful devotions is (drumroll please)

....................................Raven.

Since He's a Trickster and a shapeshifter, he can look like whatever Peter Gabriel whenever He wants to. There is actually a serious reason why I'm now a Ravenist, but it's not nearly as entertaining as what I've already written, and this post has gone on long enough.

Earth's Main God/dess

Spirituality would be a lot less complicated if there was only one person on Earth at a time. That would save a lot of time arguing.

What is the real God/dess of Earth? Or of Western Civilization, anyway, since it seems to be the Power of the Moment. It sure ain't God. Or Goddess, either. The Diety is Enough. ("As long as I have Enough, I'll be happy.")("Omigod--there's not ENOUGH! Hit the Panic Button!!!") Logic is another Diety on the panthenon...whoops...hold on, that's for the planet "Vulcan, not Earth.

The reason we're so screwed up is that we're the only animal that needs God. That's the only difference from us and the monkeys, my friends. We always need a justification for what we do--see it as part of a Grand Design.

Animals have it figured out. Life is to live it--that's it, folks. Walt Whitman put it best:

I think I could turn and live with animals
the are so placid and self contained
I stand and look at them long and long.

Another Poem

The man gets up and walks out into the sun
ramifications and complications threaten him all at once.
He was to go here, he wound up going there
and aches never to have learned to compare.

He was so sure when he was born
what would make him cold and what would make him warm.
But somewhere along the way he discovered among the fray
that he forgot more than his mind could pack away.

"I was to do something--but what, I do not know
What with learning and earning and rushing to and fro.
I gathered to me more than this one path
So perhaps I was to forget it and go take a bath."

--October 4 &; 9, 2006

One Order of Limbo To Go

As you've probably heard by now, the most recent incarnation of the Pope is to (or has he already? I can't be bothered to look it up, quite frankly!) disavow all Catholic association of the concept known as Limbo. (Not the dance, sadly.) Limbo is not to be confused with Purgatory, although it's just down the block. Limbo is where the souls of unbaptized babies and good pagans who lived before the time of Christ go to hang out for the rest of eternity. I always pictured them as just floating around in a black and white eternity, as colour was reserved for Heaven or Hell. (In Purgatory, you get colour on the weekends). When I noticed the Papal announcement in the paper, I couldn't help but read the headline to my recently Catholic-ized Mom. She said, "What's limbo? Besides the damn dance I can't do?" So, I told her. "Oh," she said. "Wait--how did you know about limbo?"

"Why, from George Carlin, of course, Mother!" I truthfully replied, for how else do non-Catholics get their interpetations of the Catholic worldview? Read a Catholic Bible? Ha! That would make sense.

Anyway, I'm going to miss limbo, even though all the souls in limbo are now given a one-way ticket to heaven. Which reminds me--limbo is being ousted because it is "only a hypothesis"--hmmm---so can we think of what else is just a hypothesis? Like, oh, let's see...God? Hell? Original sin?

Sorry--Not Feeling Funny This Week

Well, I feel funny 'peculiar', not funny 'ha-ha'. (I couldn't even be bothered to write an original opening line--I think I plagerized that from a WKRP In Cincinatti episode). I lived in Lancaster County for nearly ten years and by now you might have heard that the peaceful Amish community had a freak accident. Unfortunately, they ran into a freak. Now, at the time of this writing, there's five (soon to be six) humans dead and one dead freak. Amazingly, the Amish have already forgiven the freak and have invited the freak's family to the funerals of their little girls.

I met a lot of Amish in my time in Lancaster, but we were not on a name-exchange basis. I am not personally related to the victims, and yet I want revenge. Yes, the freak has shot himself--or indulged in police-assisted suicide--but I'm sure there's something else we can do to him. Shoot the body? Do a seance and flip him the bird? Make a pact with Satan to fry his freaky ass extra extra crispy? It takes a hell of a lot of energy to plan revenge...even if it's only fantasy revenge.

I envied the Amish in my time in Lancaster--mostly because they had incredibly fit horses. But now I envy them even more, as despite this violation of their sanctuary, they still are able to bring their harvest home.

Know Thyself

This is a self portrait done in two ways:
1) As advice given on Solsbury Hill Forums for all of us Peter Gabriel fans (and we know you're out there)I first went to give myself the South Park treatment
2)Then I goofed around with it a bit in Paint, the lovely doodling program on most PCs.
It has been said by many many people both smarter and wiser than me that the best way to wisdom is to Know Thyself. So this self-portrait shows how much I know.

"So, rraven, How's It Going?"

Judging from the image I've selected, I guess that'll tell you how the job interview today went.

Oh, it was a nice interview (a fire drill happened in the middle of it)and my interviewer seemed a real sweetheart. However, the company that PENDOT (the Pennsylvania Everything Damning Of all Transprtation) hires out turned out to be Philadelphia Developmental Disabilities Coorporation and unfortunately, I'm just not Disabled enough to qualify (or fortunately, depending on your point of view). I had no idea I was supposed to be disabled. I guess I should add that to the resume.

On the other hand, it was great to know that a place like this exists in Philly and seems to be doing good work. The atmosphere was casual, friendly and first-name basis. Donald Trump could probably learn a thing or two from them.

In other news, last night I finished the first draft of my Captain Jean-Luc Picard adventure into the universe of world mythology. I'm still too tired to celebrate properly--then off to write a more polished draft and send it out to gather reject slips. Hooray!

Boriweogail!!!

I have a job interviewtomorrow for the Department of Motor Vehicles. So you can probably guess what my state of mind is like. If you can't, here's a frightening glimpse:

"BOOGA! Whoop! Dee dee dee obbbi oobie wah wah How to get to North Philly and back in one piece? Ding dong! Panic's calling! RED ALERT! AwOOOga! AwOOOga! Mr. Worf, raise sheilds and fire at will. Just joking, Will. Da da DAAAAA..."

...and so on ad infinitum. I suppose there's a spiritual lesson in here somewhere, but it's just not getting through at the moment.

There Oughta Be A Law...

So I was writing my aforementioned book, listening to an online New Age radio station last week (Sept 17-23) when I was jolted by hearing...

wait for it...

CHRISTMAS CAROLS.

It wasn't even the FALL EQUINOX yet and they're playing bloody Xmas muzac?!?! I'm sure this is a cause of global warming. No, really. Think about it. Playing Xmas muzac too early--polar bears eating each other. Makes perfect sense to me. And WHEN did the trend to push the Xmas shopping season back begin? About twenty years ago--THE SAME TIME the hole in the ozone was discovered!

Now, I think that chemicals and pollution DO punch holes in the ozone layer. They still need to be dealt with. But by God, man, every little bit helps! We might not be able to legislate clean air laws with major coorporations, but at least we can wait until November before playing Christmas carols! Surely, this law, if proposed by the Democrats (or any other political party), could (as wll as Bush's continued incompetence) make them easily gain control of Congress.

Then it will a Merry Christmas after all.