Rough paragraphs from my attempt at a novel.
Behold, we entertain angels unaware…
There’s a man that comes into my work infrequently. The funny thing is, when he does, it’s always, and I mean ALWAYS, on the days I’m battling with anxiety, or depression, or having a spiritual crisis of conscience. This man, this charismatic man, comes in and buys his cigars, and he speaks life into me. This man is either a truly obedient follower of Jesus, or he’s an angel. Literally.
Taking it further… Not only does he come in when I’m down and speak life to me, but he walks in and addresses my specific needs/issues/concerns specifically. These are not philosophical shots in the dark; these are spot-on detailed words that the Spirit has told him I need to hear regarding SPECIFIC things. He speaks these words with love, respect, humor and with passion.
Last night this man saved my life. I won’t go into details, but I’ve been emotionally and spiritually caving in for the past month, and last night when I was the most down about things that I’ve ever been, his car pulls up.
Do you have anyone like this in your life? Just curious.
I’ve Got This…
Today I begin a new phase of my life… It’s a personal effort I won’t speak or write of for years, except now. This is my one chance to live, and my one chance to serve the kingdom as my heavenly Father has called me to. A warrior must be strong and for too long I’ve been weak. My days of self pity and doubt are coming to a close. God has freed me, my best friend has inspired me, and I am beginning a new project. But how to begin? I’ll live and breathe in Christ’s abundance. See you on the other side people!
The simple things…
There are two things I’ve discovered in Portland that top the rest and these two things keep me going. Smart-wool socks, preferably black, and Chai Lattes.
The smart-wools were a gift from my girlfriend, and the first time I put a new pair on my feet, it was magic. It’s not necessarily a Portland discovery, but I did discover these magical socks whilst in Portland, and that makes this beautiful city and these magical socks synonymous
As for the chai, there’s a café a few blocks away from my house called Anna Banana’s. It’s the café where I wrote my book and where I’ll do my edits when I get them. The drink is called a Doot doo doo! It’s a chai latte with four espresso shots. When I’m down, tired, depressed, bored, or blocked and unable to write, I get one of these drinks and everything melts away. If you are ever in Portland do come to Anna’s, and if you’re lucky, Chance or Hawkins will be here to make one for you. Their Doots are the best in the house.
“The longer a man is dead the more we are apt to distort his strengths and weaknesses; his lack of response lends bravery …”
~Bukowski
“
| — | So true. |
All in a Week…
This week… :
- I edited/revised 12 chapters.
- I participated in a movie, twice. Even got paid for it!
- I was followed on Twitter by not only the honorable Mayor Sam Adams of Portland, but also DAVID frikkin HASSELHOFF!
- But most importantly, I got to spend a lot of quality time with my beautiful girlfriend Marissa! She’s the final piece of the puzzle that I call my early life.
Editing Myself.
Editing a book is like taking parts of yourself and cutting them out… I’ve barely begun the process, but it’s felt like I’m shaping myself, making myself a better version of me. Because my book is me, if you think about it. Once upon a time there was a blank page, and now there’s not. Now there’s just the blood and effort, and self that I’ve put into those blank pages. And now there’s me trying to make things better, make things more whole.
I want to edit my life the way I edit my book. I want to cut out the bad the way I can an incomplete sentence or thought. I want to feel ownership of it, so I can turn it into something that someone will want to read. And whether or not that happens depends on consistency and grace and prayer.
The Other Side of the Glass…
Last night I was sitting at Powells Books, in a section of the cafe set against the window that runs the length of one side of the cafe. I was reading the first few pages of the late Jim Carroll’s last novel, The Petting Zoo, when I heard a loud tapping on the glass.
The tapping was coming from a homeless man outside who was going down the line of people, tapping emphatically to get their attention, and motioning to them asking for a smoke. Each person would say no, or just put their heads back down hoping he’d leave them alone, and I noticed that with each passing person his reaction was becoming more and more agitated.
By the time he got halfway down he was giving everyone that said no the finger, and as he reached me, asked and I said no, he gave me the finger with both hands. His gesture of not just one “Fuck you!” but two made me smile. Somehow I’d earned the most agitated reaction, and as I smiled he became even more disgruntled.
Somehow this homeless man on the other side of the glass was worlds away from me. Maybe if I’d been outside I would have allowed myself to give him one… Maybe.
I looked back down at my book laughing. Portland really is a weird place.
