Aach...ye speak like a poet, but ye punch like one too...

PUNCH LIKE A POET

Wednesday, May 25, 2005
  
Family blog news

I've been remiss in not notifying the blog world that my sister started her own blog a few weeks ago. She calls it Floor Pie, which means that not only are there multiple Priest family blogs on the internet, there are multiple Priest blogs named for obscure Simpsons quotes. Exxxcccellent.

Also, my dad's been working on an interesting series of posts on Restoration theology (and his experience thereof) over at Think a Little More.

# posted by Daniel at 8:00 PM.

One for (and about) the road

It's likely I'll be a Canadian resident before I get the chance to post here again. Just wrote this little think, sort of in response to Fanny's most recent poem. The last bit of verse you'll likely see from me for a few weeks.


PLAYING THE ROAD

Play this road
that ducks and twitches
in the falling sun
like something cast--
a thought, except
the road's a truer line
and traceable--hold a map
and almost think you've got
the long road spooled.
Almost. Now heave it back
and out, throw the hook
as far as it'll go--
catch yourself,
a city, another life,
some snapping future
you wrestle into daylight.
Hold it. Take it off
the hook. Cut it up.
Cook. Eat--
or let it go.

# posted by Daniel at 7:56 PM.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005
  
Why the Mormons fell off their bikes

I'd like to begin with the major disclaimer that I don't endorse or recommend the behavior of any of the characters in this little narrative.

This isn't a story about me. It's about a friend of mine back in high school. We'll call her Rachel. I did not witness the events described herein, nor did Rachel even tell me herself. It was in fact related to me at second or third hand--whichever hand it is when a story is told by a person who was told by a witness. At any rate, it's been handed around. My only role herein was in remembering it yesterday while riding around on my bike.

Aside: there've been an inordinate number of bike posts here of late.

Back to the story. Rachel and a friend of hers (we'll call him Buddy) were riding around one afternoon in this friend's truck. Possibly skipping school. Up to no good, at any rate (although it should be said that being "up to no good" is not quite the same thing as being actively up to bad--the absence of good intentions does not necessarily imply the presence of malevolent one). One cannot, however, ride around aimlessly in Abilene, Texas for very long without getting into some kind of trouble.

They came upon Mormons, pedalling amicably along the road in their peaceful Mormon way. Mormon missionaries, for those of you who don't know, are generally nineteen year old boys from Utah, Colorado, or the non-Vegas parts of Nevada. The ones I've met give the impression of living unbelievably sheltered lives. Then again, many Abilene youths (the ones who aren't out driving aimlessly around on weekday afternoons) give a similar impression.

So--Mormons ahead in the same lane as Rachel and Buddy. Rachel gets an idea. She rolls down her window. The Mormons get closer. They're still pumping innocently away at their ten speeds. Rachel says to Buddy, "Honk whenever you pass them." At which point they would be about three feet to the right of the truck.

The following events occur during the next three seconds:

(1) Rachel leans out the window and lifts her shirt.
(2) Buddy honks.
(3) Mormons look left and see, three feet away, in glorious living color--
(4) Mormons fall off their bikes.

Both of them. At the same time. As if they'd hit a pothole or run through a clothesline. My goodness. The poor guys.

But still--pretty funny. Especially when you picture them all bandaged up, maybe one of them with a broken arm or something, trying to explain to everyone at church the next week why exactly they BOTH fell off their bikes.

# posted by Daniel at 6:16 PM.