Multitrack Sneakattack, Vol 1

Alright, y'all. Who likes music? You do? That's right you do. I do too.
That's why now, I'm going to start making mixtapes for you. It's simple, really. All you have to do is follow the link, download the file, unzip it, and then open the text document to put them in the proper order.

Thirteen tracks of musical goodness from Nathaniel's mp3 buffet.
The file is kind of big--I need to figure out how to compress files more--but it should be worth the wait.

Multitrack Sneakattack, Vol. 1: How Nathaniel Defeated the Zombies

Enjoy.

Best. Day. Ever.

Yesterday, Michelle came to visit.
We bought some passionfruit juice and a frozen pizza, baked it up, pulled out the sofa-bed, and watched Ninja Turtles (the first two).
Her idea. I have the best girlfriend ever.

Then as she was about to leave, her parents called to tell her that they didn't like the idea of her driving home late (it wasn't that late, even--it was quarter to ten).
So, at her parents' suggestion, she stayed the night and we watched The Science of Sleep.

(contented sigh)
Lord, thank you for your blessings.

Bachelorpad

My roommates are both gone. Mellie is in New Jersey with her family as her grandfather is sick. Kriss then took a trip to Atlanta for a week. And so, I have my own apartment for a few days. Well...I have to share it with some cats, but I still get to do what I want. What that's meant so far is listening to a bunch of the music that Kriss gripes about and painting in the bathroom (it's the best place for it, really).

A couple of guys from church asked me if I wanted to get together to play music sometime. Of course I did, so they came over on Friday night to jam. Derrick played bass and laid some smooth basslines I never would have thought of. Eric played drums and had some sweet abstract angular beats that I loved. Then, they started talking about how we were a band.
That's sweet.

I'm not dreading being alone this week as I would have been a while ago. Good thing I learned how to not hate myself. This week would be a disaster otherwise.

You think you know, but you have know idea

Today, I hung out with my friend Cody and his dad and cousin. Cody starts at Moody next weekend. We went to the Lincoln Park Zoo.

The past few days, Mellie has been in New Jersey with her family. Her grandfather has been in the hospital, wavering between the brink of death and surprising her doctors. Uncertainty surrounds everything.

Michelle visited this past weekend. Word on the street is, her dad was curious to see how an entire weekend with me would affect our relationship. If you ask me, I'll tell you it strengthened our resolve. If you ask her, she'll tell you it made her love me more.
I miss her. A lot.

I'm visiting South Bend this weekend, so I'll get to see her, as well as many other people, and I'll get to run a bunch of errands I've needed to get done (trading vans, dropping Sonia's painting off, etc.)

I wrote another poem. That's three for three. This is probably the shortest poem I've written in years. Michelle said the other day that it's okay for a poem to be short. I've just never been able to write a short poem.


There Is No Place
The sky bled
like a battle field under neon lights
and I walked
'neath the train to the place I'd rest my head
that still won't feel like home
regardless how much I call it such.

And my bed
which yet feels not like mine
will house my head
as I lay in wait for rest,
but none shall come
as my mind revolves around itself.

Another dang poem.

I don't know who to blame--
The Crossings
T.S. Eliot
or Greg Fox.

...More Than Many Sparrows
Our Father
Who art in Heaven;
Hallowed be Thy name
that hangs on my lip
as I mutter my prayers
with Your Cross between
my finger and thumb
as they rub together
like the friction between
my todays & tomorrows
wearing away the shirt I wear
(Lord, can I afford a new one?)
but I am worth more
than the grass of the field
(or at least that's what You said)

so

give us this day
our daily bread
and more,
for the excess
that will give me
comfort
and I, alive,
as Thou provides,
will praise
but if Thou wills
my scraping by,
then I'm not so sure
that I can promise that

but

Thine is the Kingdom
mine is the worry
Thine is the Power
mine is the worry
Forever and ever,
mine is the worry.

Amen.

Four/Three

I
The yellow light seeps out the lamp
through the space between
my apartment wall and the wall next door
and into my bedroom window
onto your hair
golden, tossed upon the pillow
as you sleep beneath my arm,
and I wish that I could sleep,
but my head is wrapped around
hours before
on the step
in the space between
my apartment wall and the wall next door
as you peered through
Chicago's fog of lamps
“look, there's still four stars here”
but I only could make out three.

II
(A street sign
scribbled out
in an alphabet
I never learned
directs one way
then another
then another
then...
we'll follow them
until we get lost
or at least until
the meter runs out)

III
I walk into the street
the driving cars unwatched by my eye
as it stares to the ground before my feet
and why don't I look where I'm going
or what do I think I'm doing
or I could get myself killed
but my eyes have always been
easily distracted
by the thoughts that plague my mind
either those of joy
(walking arm in arm with one you love)
or those of pain
(what is owed, what is earned,
the difference, and the deficit)

IV
A man staggers in
as I wait to use the sink
a cigarette in his mouth, unlit,
and he spills his excess into the urinal
and staggers out
the cigarette unlit still
hanging loosely from his lip
held by some miracle
and I, passed by, laugh to myself
at the disinterest he held
in his disinterested hands
as he walked out of the door
and into the City of Life
with his eyes half closed
to the miracle that kept
his cigarette in his mouth.

But we,
so open are our eyes that we
can't help but see the Hand
that holds our hands
as we say our goodbyes.

V
Across the table
each nose in a book
you'll laugh
and I'll ask
and you'll read a phrase
and I
on the other side
simply try
to make sense of Eliot.
('Lord, I am not worthy,
Lord, I am not...')
because for all my ears
I'll never hear
all that the Thunder had to say
(but Lord! how I long to quote it)

VI
Wrapped in a sheet
I could not move
e'en to kiss your head
for exhausted as I was
my eyes could not
for more than a minute
look upon your face
which smiled with my prodding
and said, 'nathaniel,
don't ask questions'
implying that
I already know their answers
And you know as well as I
I just need to make sure,
but no one can be sure—that's sure—
and you never really know
until you know
(but you never know)

VII
And I dread to go back to this apartment
so much emptier now from your leaving
knowing that I'll have to face
that all I've said is okay
is not okay.

(But it's okay.)

Working Class

I really have little idea of what I'm going to do about a job. I'd like something flexible, but I'd also like something that pays enough for me to be able to save a good amount up, and those two things aren't usually combined.

I'd really like a job at Willow Creek. Like, a lot. Or at another church whose ministry is following Christ. But I'm not sure how realistic it is to expect something like that to happen any time soon.

But, time will tell.