On the Seventh Day...

The Seventh day: seven swans swimming on a not-quite-frozen pond, seven gifts from a Ghost that come wrapped in skin and tied up with a mindful bow. A new year and Christmas is almost out of mind now. Today, probably the lights come down—in between quarters—boxed up, the boughs tossed, the last of the turkey consumed. The trouble with living in a culture that sells Christmas starting after Hallowe’en is one can’t celebrate it after today. At least not without looks. Christmas is a one-day orgasm that really only lasts as long as the wrapping paper in the fire place; a quick burst of light, sound, heat, and then cold, black and grey ashes. Nothing to savor, nothing to hold, except gift receipts and sweaters that appear out of date.

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Good reads of 2009

I haven't made a list like this in a while, and I believe I discussed most of these on the blog as I finished them, but I thought I'd make a handy short-hand list for you and me. These are only in the order I read them and do not indicate any preference. The Open Door * Frederica Mathewes-Green The Children of Hurin * J.R.R. Tolkien The Omnivore's Dilemma * Michael Pollan Agrarianism and the Good Society: Land, Culture, Conflict, and Hope * Eric T. Freyfogle Wonderful Fool * Shusaku Endo Up the Rouge: Paddling Detroit's Hidden River * Joel Thurtell and Patricia Beck Johnny Cash and the Great American Contradiction: Christianity and the Battle for the Soul of a Nation * Rodney Clapp (I started the following in December, but I haven't finished them--so far they are excellent: Love and Hate in Jamestown * David A. Price and The Picture of Dorian Gray * Oscar Wilde) Try one of these--let me know.

Worth Quoting

There are but three social arrangements which can replace Capitalism: Slavery, Socialism, and Property. --Hilaire Belloc ...

Gaudete, dammit!

I was not at my home church for mass this morning (not that I feel like I have a home church since becoming Popish), but nevertheless my mood was buoyant. After all, how could it not be. Here we were standing as brothers and sisters commemorating one of the top five greatest events in the history of reality: the Incarnation. Yet looking out and listening to the participation of my Roman brothers and sisters, one would think that something less than mundane had happened. Something BORING, even. We gathered to remember the God of the universe condescending to take on human dress and all we can do is half-heartedly sing and mumble ancient creeds that people died for? I remained buoyant despite the lack of mutual awe. Annie Dillard said waggishly that when people go to church they ought to be wearing crash helmets. Do they really know who or what they are summoning? Something more terrible, me...

I Am Not Hamlet

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