Back In Boston
:)
This Is My Life Right Now . . .
http://greyparty.net/2007/02/16/wade-or-wait/ <- Click
An old post, but SOOOOO very much what I need to figure out in every aspect of my life.
I dug this song out by ‘accident’ and realized that God had something to say. Funny how that works. Confirming that I am exactly where I thought I was: confused and waiting on direction, in the midst of not being able to control certain features of reality. I’m required to do my part, but without the whole picture I am forced to . . . wait. Or should I be wading out, getting my feet wet, figuring things out on my own. Being a good steward.
Both so Biblical.
Then there was the other option I forgot until I got to the end of the song
“Walk on the water, cause God is gonna trouble the water.”
hmm
Revisting Old Songs . . .
I need to set a deadline. My goal . . . well, I don’t know about a “goal,” but of late old songs, I previously recorded, I wish to redo. Many of them were on my first CD attempt, and were good songs, but I didn’t have the recording knowledge, equpitment, or paitience that I do now.
So I think it’s time . . .
Course there are all the songs in progress which I have either never finished, or just not recorded, but whatever.
Site Overhaul. . .
Many changes happening.
Still trying to make things look not like crap.
Turning down the ’suckage’ knob and all.
Thanks for your paitence,
The MEHangment
In The Face Of Evil
. . . what more can one do, but to fight?
Cower I supposed. Turn tail and fly to hidden caverns, where the illusion of safety will remain until the undefeated, unapproached terror returns for that which has escaped. Eventually, no one is beyond its grasp, so long as it breathes.
So you choose to make a stand, to fight in the moment instead of at a later date. Your weapons may be few, or unused in prior combat, but you have resolved to plant both feet upon this hill, where you very well may die, because someone has to.
And now, watching the death knell of the beast, you duck to dodge the last failing of its horrid tenticles, which lash out to grab, maime, and dismember one last time. Seeking to taste your blood as it chokes on its own.
What a prayer is this: to see the stone rebound, to hear the rushing sigh of wind, and to side step the sigh of rushing wind, as the giant’s body falls. To not be crushed under the dead, headless weight.
And as I realize the complexity of these thoughts I begin a new song:
I can’t worry about tomorrow-
To try and dodge what may fly my way.
And I can’t be worried about tomorrow:
I’ve got enough sh_t in my stall to clean today. . .