5.16.2005
Under the milkman's tramp
Went to church yesturday with J. J has been going the rounds at Atlanta churches - she told me an amusing story about another church she went to. It was one of those Mega churches - indie christian rock band etc., the most amusing part was that the pastor teleconferenced it in each Sunday - the flock sitting piosly before a large projection screen of a minister at an alternate location. Go Atlanta.
Anyways. Yesterday, it was 'coming of age' day at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Atlanta - a sort of secular humanist bar mitzvah of sorts, if you will, one might say. Unlike in Samoa, coming of age at the UUCA involves writing a credo statement - some several paragraphs written by a 13 year old describing the linchpins of their personal relationship to god and spiritual living.
Kids are cute. There was the gamer, whose credo sounded the boyish power and perspective of single player video games. There was a young girl who spoke of loss of innocence, and that the removal of that distracting facet from her personality encouraged her to focus and strengthen her compassion, wisdom, humor. A glib young man spoke last - introduced as 'brilliant,' he used his advanced command of rhetoric to lecture us on politics, too inexperienced to know that it is easier to persuade others than to reveal yourself.
I liked the young girls statement, obviously. She had fewer illusions. She cited Adrienne Rich, and I faintly remembered a line of poetry - something about a dirty studio, stairs writhing, a milkman's heavy tread like a reverse escalator, moving perpetually up the steps.
So I looked up those lines -
Living in Sin
She had thought the studio would keep itself;
no dust upon the furniture of love.
...
Not that at five each separate stair would writhe
under the milkman's tramp;
...
By evening she was back in love again,
though not so wholly but throughout the night
she woke sometimes to feel the daylight coming
like a relentless milkman up the stairs.
Adrienne Rich. Good people.
Anything else eventful? Greg told a funny story again about his life as a kids party entertainer for hire. On Saturday, he had a white power ranger and two buzz lightyears. My favorite story is a spidey one. He was going down to East point in costume. Some guy tried to stop him outside the Marta station, 'hey, spiderman!' and sell him some CD cases and batteries. Greg told him his 'spidey sene' was tingling and he had to go. The man was pissed and as Greg turned to leave, called him a fake-ass spiderman and more.
Fake-ass spiderman. Apparently there are pics of greg as spidey crawling around the sculpture park at Ripe Atlanta last weekend. I've got to find and post.
- Ms. Bling
Anyways. Yesterday, it was 'coming of age' day at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Atlanta - a sort of secular humanist bar mitzvah of sorts, if you will, one might say. Unlike in Samoa, coming of age at the UUCA involves writing a credo statement - some several paragraphs written by a 13 year old describing the linchpins of their personal relationship to god and spiritual living.
Kids are cute. There was the gamer, whose credo sounded the boyish power and perspective of single player video games. There was a young girl who spoke of loss of innocence, and that the removal of that distracting facet from her personality encouraged her to focus and strengthen her compassion, wisdom, humor. A glib young man spoke last - introduced as 'brilliant,' he used his advanced command of rhetoric to lecture us on politics, too inexperienced to know that it is easier to persuade others than to reveal yourself.
I liked the young girls statement, obviously. She had fewer illusions. She cited Adrienne Rich, and I faintly remembered a line of poetry - something about a dirty studio, stairs writhing, a milkman's heavy tread like a reverse escalator, moving perpetually up the steps.
So I looked up those lines -
Living in Sin
She had thought the studio would keep itself;
no dust upon the furniture of love.
...
Not that at five each separate stair would writhe
under the milkman's tramp;
...
By evening she was back in love again,
though not so wholly but throughout the night
she woke sometimes to feel the daylight coming
like a relentless milkman up the stairs.
Adrienne Rich. Good people.
Anything else eventful? Greg told a funny story again about his life as a kids party entertainer for hire. On Saturday, he had a white power ranger and two buzz lightyears. My favorite story is a spidey one. He was going down to East point in costume. Some guy tried to stop him outside the Marta station, 'hey, spiderman!' and sell him some CD cases and batteries. Greg told him his 'spidey sene' was tingling and he had to go. The man was pissed and as Greg turned to leave, called him a fake-ass spiderman and more.
Fake-ass spiderman. Apparently there are pics of greg as spidey crawling around the sculpture park at Ripe Atlanta last weekend. I've got to find and post.
- Ms. Bling
