Stopped by Cops in South Carolina Where the Billboards Shift from Jesus to Porn and Back Again, I Understand My Affliction

“Stopped by Cops in South Carolina Where the Billboards Shift from Jesus to Porn and Back Again, I Understand My Affliction
It’s as American as the F.B.I. Hoover in drag, a zealot in silk stockings, careful not to smudge his lipstick as he reads me my rights. The desire to reach the heavens gets mixed up with the pursuit of naked flesh, and the next thing I know, I’m ordering coffee and apple pie a la mode in a topless diner, next to a Bible salesman who can’t get enough of those free refills. Halleluiah! Can I get a waitress? One who was at the scene of the crime? That’s the easy part. It’s as simple as a right hand and a left. I’m guilty of human needs. And here the billboards remind me, like flashcards for a five-year-old, alternating Lust and Love. Moving too fast is what got me here, stopped on the side of the road. The cops wear mirrored shades to keep their own sins hidden. The sign I’m next to features Jesus ascending and a 1-800 number to call if I feel alone. But I’m more hungry than lonely, and once I get my ticket, I’m gone.”
~~Christopher Kennedy
ennui prophet

–source link

I read this collection immediately after posting the post about Luxuria. I liked this one and one other in particular, though most of them had something that jumped out at me. Ahhh…the mood of the day!

Thank you Mr. Kennedy!

Luxiuration and The Tea Party

Today the screaming and the howling of winter winds demands a way into the house. The wind chimes dance and sing in tinkling abandon, oblivious to the rage of the wind, unable to convert them, nor to distract them from their joy. Perfect union, not one without the other. Today warmth, the touch of soft clean sheets and gentle conforming heft of blankets round my body nestled in with cup and sip and swallow taste of glorious tea and books full of dross and treasure, married like the winds. Luxuria.

Thoreau Thursdays (36): The Woodpiles of One’s Heart

I found this, early this morning in the quiet, while I had my first cup of tea. I think that I will simply continue to listen, turn my ear in a slightly different direction. The method changes, perhaps not the message.~~elisa

Rosemary's Blog

“Every man looks at his wood-pile with a kind of affection.”
–Henry David Thoreau, Walden

I don’t chop wood, but I’ve looked with pride and affection at jars of blackberry jam that I made from foraged wild blackberries.  Or bags of frozen apples from windfalls that I picked and sliced for future pies.  There is something immensely satisfying about a well-provisioned pantry, especially when it is the work of your own hands.

Thoreau found this kind of satisfaction in gazing at his woodpile, which he loved to have outside of his window to remind him of his “pleasing work.”  As winter approached, he said, “I withdrew yet farther into my shell, and endeavored to keep a bright fire both within my house and within my breast.”  The fire in his fireplace was a great comfort to him — he enjoyed its flickering shadows, which he described as “more agreeable to…

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