ebb tide...

When I went off to college, I, like many other wide eyed teenagers, made plans to room with my best friend. We, like many such best friend pairings, were no longer best friends by the end of mid-term exams. New town, new school, different majors, different friends, different dreams. So it goes. At the end of our first semester, he moved out, taking his computer (and my table) with him.

This is where becoming good friends with the RA�s works out for you. When students leave after the first semester, all the people who paid the lower double occupancy rate for a room are consolidated together. If there is an odd number of students, the divisional remainder gets a private room at the cheaper rate. Score! I took the bunk beds apart and doubled up the mattress. So long as no one transferred into the dorm, I was set. The freedom lasted about 2 months and was glorious.

no parking zone...

Choices abound in life. Every option life altering. And they can't be un-chosen. There may be a chance to choose between two similar options later on, but they are certainly not the same options you had before. They're gone... just like youth. Life, it seems is an endless series of 4-way stops. You look left, look right, and pull out past the stop sign into the intersection, praying you didn't miss a big truck running his stop sign.

I don't think it's the choices we make so much as it is the ones we still have left to make that vex me. I can deal with what's behind. It's over and done. I think I may have developed a "get over it" reflex in having moved so many times. I never had time to cry over the proverbial milk. There was always another gallon of milk in the next town and it might even be chocolate. Yummm...

No. It's the choices left to make that stifle me, turn me to stone. There are just so many good choices. And if you can't chose one, you've chosen none by default, haven't you? It's the intersection again. I'm stuck at the stop sign. I look left, then right, feel the muscles in my calf tense and begin to lift my foot from the pedal, then stop. I just can't shake the feeling the creepy guy from the first season of X-Files is in the back seat whispering "There is no truck coming. All you see is cerulean blue." Crash!

pedal power...

How one man can write so many good songs in such a short amount of time, I'll never understand. I mean, I'm still trying to write one good song, let alone match the 50 - 60 songs/year pace of someone like Bill Mallonee.

That's fine by me, really. I write my songs for me, to untangle my own thoughts. If a couple of you catch the tune and want to sing along, all the better. We may be Lo-Fi here in the Kudzu, but we're all heart.

reloading...

I finally saw the movie this past weekend. I'm not going to say too much about it, because I know that some of you haven't made it out to see it yet and I'll get in trouble if I let too many secrets slip. (Everyone dies at the end.) Therefore, parts of this post are white on white text. If you've seen the movie, use your mouse highlight those areas to read my full thoughts and theories.

I know several people have been disappointed by "Reloaded", but personally, I think their expectations were a bit high to begin with. "The CGI fight scene with the multiple Agent Smiths was too obviously CGI." Well duh! It was CGI. I'm glad you could tell. I could tell the ships in Star Trek were models. And?!? People who said there was too much philosophy crap between the fight scenes really should shut up, too. They have no idea what really makes a good sci-fi movie. Actually, there were a couple of times were I was thinking "OK Neo.... just kill them now and end this. Aren't you The One? [Can't you stop machine gun fire in mid air? Surely you can kill a couple of vapire/werewolves/ghosts/whatevers faster than this...]" The wire-fu is nice, but gets old and does nothing to advance the plot. [On the other hand, the flying through the city at the end with all the cars and stuff being sucked along behind him was just too cool for words.]

This second movie had a lot of ground to cover dealing with world building and mythology. There's a lot of questions from the first movie to answer. It also needed to make sure the hype lasted a full six months, guaranteeing a large box office draw this November when "Revolutions" hits theaters. [Look at the end of the film. Neo's new power to stop and disable robots in the "real world" now has people saying that the world of Zion is just another matrix. How else would he be able to sense them? How else would Agent Smith be able to download himself into a human host? I don't buy this, really. I think Neo has become something more. Call him a hybrid, if you will. Some how he's still connected to the machines. It could very well be a result of the candy the Oracle gave him.]

Speculation and conjecture. That's all we have until November. Unless you count the IMAX release in June. Oh yes, baby! I'm there!

kud-zoo...

What's this? He took a whole weekend off (and a long one at that...), and all he's got for us is a bunch of pictures from the zoo?

Yep.

holiday weekend...

Enjoy your holiday weekend. See you on Tuesday.

a first kudzu experience...

I haven't been living in the east that long I had no idea what kudzu was. So I stopped at this gas station and saw this lovely green vine and thought "that's really pretty..." not really knowing. I went in the station to use the bathroom or get a drink or whatever and when I came out my car was gone. There was just this green vine. That's when I realized why there was a sign in the window saying "machetes $10." -- Jonah Werner

Kudzu { mp3 }
(words & music : S Blake)

It keeps on growing
A giant patch of summer green

It's tenacious
Once it’s rooted it will never let go

Conceals the landscape
And just like grace it covers everything

Can you feel it growing over you?
Like a blanket of green over everything

We all feel it
The touch of heaven and the tug of hell

It divides us
Split like a razor between body and soul

But I've tasted glory
Like love's rich wine I am thirsty for more

watching the water...

Every so often, it's nice to stop, sit, and watch the water flow by...

first rite of passage...

Congratulations young Sprout. Today you've crossed the first great milestone in your quest to be a woman... or man. Today you've shed the tail of your youth, wrapped yourself in your first layers of skin, and begun the development of bone. You've shed the former title of embryo and today, young Sprout, you've become a fetus.

(Isn't this exciting folks? And just think... we're only 10 weeks in... Just 30 weeks left!)

indian rosewood and cedar...

The days are long. Wake. Work. Worry. Wrestle life. Wonder why. Wind blown and weary. I need this box to sing to me. I need to sit in the floor and hold it's wood, steel and bone. I need the feel of a plastic plectrum pulling and plucking melody from it's handcrafted frame. My hand glides along the wound bass strings, makes a slight scraping buzz, builds new callouses on my fingertips where I've peeled the old ones away.

There is no tune, no pattern to follow. I start with a chord... any chord. F major 7 sounds nice. Depending on the mood, I'll drop the tortex pick and let my over long nails strike the strings, feel the metal with my skin. It makes it all the more personal. My fingers move in deliberate arpeggios, dancing lightly from note to note. Time to change chords. Pluck out a modified G, drop to a C, then walk it down to a nice minor A letting the rhythm and melody vibrate it's way out of the sound hole, into the space of this room. The cedar sings the song of my catharsis while I breath in the spaces between the notes.

lisbon, portugal...

fence line...

They say “Good fences make good neighbours.” They also say Frost's Mending Wall is a good poem. It is one of his best, but I was never much a fan of his work anyway. Fences don't make good neighbors, but they do make bad neighbors a whole lot easier to tolerate.

I've seen all sorts of creatures running along the top of this fence line that segregates my grass-choked weed patch from the neighbor's greener lawn. Birds of every color and size. Little grey squirrel. The neighbor's cat they so imaginatively named "Kitty."

This is certain: the fence top was never designed to support the weight of a human. We were never built to teeter on the edge of a post. We lack the balance and grace to hold that pose. Yet, so often we find ourselves on that very perch, starring at the neighbor's greener lawn, glancing back over our shoulder at our own grass-choked weed patch for the occasional comparison. There's always something better on the other side of the fence, hence the question: Which side do we jump down on? Ours? Theirs? Left? Right? Forward? Back? FixAccept what you have or move on? Or sit on the fence and wait for the winds to blow you over?

on a string and a prayer...

I love watching the Site Meter report to see what people were searching for that brought them to the zu. I often wonder how I showed up in their results list and what on earth made them click the Kudzu link. Other times I simply wonder what on Earth they were searching for this in the first place.

Most of the traffic today was the result of a little blog-love from Sarah, but here are a few recent search strings of note:

• pocket pc honda theme accord


• picture of old ancient hacksaws


• "inner layers of neptune"


• dangers of kudzu


• "i'm out of tune"


• overloaded pack mule picture


• "dumb as a box of hair" definition


• psoriasis waist pictures


• kudzu for mac

mad drunk on this blue sea
dress bare skin in shadow
we drool and play a whisper
sweet easy shake of life
heave rusty iron to think
drive frantic on forest roads
burn dreams flooded by winter
kiss summer beauty behind the void

songs of the heart...

I got a chance to tell the kids in the youth group tonight about Sprout. As they were filing into the room, I started playing a simple two chord riff (D & A) and began singing "Come on in / It's time for us to worship." I moved into another verse about how God is listening when we pray. I threw in another chord (G) and sang a chorus of how God has given me my heart's desire. I sang a song to tell them Sprout would be here in December.

A few weeks ago, I got to hear Sprout's first song. A beautiful, rhythmic "Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump." at an up tempo 120 beats per minute. I'm sure s/he was making it up at random... just like dad.

Yes, we're excited, nervous, anxious, scared, awed, blessed. Go ahead, pick an emotion. In the last two months, I can assure you, we've felt it full force. After wearing disappointment like a vagrant's only suit for over a year, it's refreshing to feel a little eager, a little panicked, and a little unsettled all at the same time.

And in answer to the two questions forefront in everyone's mind: due date is the 16th of December (our 8th anniversary) and I'm hoping Sprout's a little girl. You wanna make your own guess? Boy? Girl? Two day's late? Week early? I might even give out a prize.

a tribute to mom...

My grandmother had her knee replaced with a titanium upgrade last week, so my mother was in Linden when I called to tell her about Sprout. The conversation went something like this :

Me: We just calling for the "Happy Grandmother's Day"
Mom: Well, your grandmother's over on the couch.
Me: No, I called you for the "Happy Grandmother's Day"
Mom: But I'm not a grandmother yet...
Me: Give it 'til about December..
Mom: What?!? Why, you little s***. Really?!? Oh, I think i'm going to cry... This is the best Mother's Day present ever!

Jen heard her screems coming out of the cell phone on the other side of the house.

Here's to my mom. Happy Mother's Day!

what does it mean?...

{ click it to find out... }

the bend in the road...

On that meandering road of life, signs like this turn up more often that we would probably like. So, we hit the breaks. Life slows down. Directions change, then change again, then double back on themselves. We fret, fear, worry, wait. Then, as if it nothing happened, as if the spinning of our brains around in our skulls never happened, the road straightens out and continues on up the mountain in the general direction that we wanted to go.

Sometimes, in the kudzu, vines of thought can come out tangled and cryptic. Sometimes it's intentional, a by product of wanting to write out my deepest secrets cathartic, primal pixilated scream. But you're here reading, and some things I just can't share, some things I keep intentionally vague until the time is ripe. And I do want you here reading, seeing, hearing. I need witnesses. I need friends.

Come back tomorrow to find out what all this might mean...

Gonna Be Alright { mp3 }
(words & music : S Blake)

I'm a little bit awkward
and out of shape
I've pushed past thirty
now I'm putting on the weight

I'm a little bit tired
and feeling weak
but I keep on moving
and praying for relief

I get the feeling
that I reeling for no reason
You keep saying
everything's gonna to be all right

I keep on stumbling
over my own stupid tongue
but you keep saying
everything's gonna to be all right

I'm a little bit fevered
I'm a little bit pitched
and I've got my dreams
but they will never make me rich

I've got the rhythm
I got the beat
but I'm out of tune
can't seem to find the right pitch

my timid trepidation
my constant consternation
but you keep saying
have some faith in me...

please turn off your cell phones and pagers...

Recently, my favorite hangout just had it's second birthday. Over the last couple of years, I've spent my fair share of time up on the open mic night stage. I've even had the privilage of being the opening act a time or three. Better than that, I've seen some of the best live music ever played while enjoying a BBQ chicken pizza. Long live the Six String Cafe.

history under glass...

This is George and Mattie Belle Suddath, my great grandparents, the parents of my mother's mother. I remember the little white house they had just south of Linden on 43. I remember visiting them as a kid. Corey and I would eat plums from the plum tree, beg to ride Pawpaw's four wheeler, and climb up on the rain water cistern in back and get yelled at because we could "fall in and drown." Mostly we played in the shadow of an enormous oak in the front yard, the one with the porch swing hanging from the lowest limb, the one so big we couldn't stretch around it's mammoth trunk even if we linked arms.

Then she got the Alzheimer's. Mawmaw was lost to us long before she passed away. I remember walking in the door and hearing her call me and my brother by name, but she couldn't place my mother. Guess she was stuck on some old memory of my mother as a little girl and her adult features just didn't match the mental picture Mawmaw clung to. Not long after the funeral, George cut down that big oak tree in the front yard. The house never did look the same.

Some years ago, George followed his Maddie Bell into eternity. That weekend I was given by my grandmother one of my prized possessions, a collection of certificates, diplomas and awards given to my great great grandmother for classes she took at her church. I had the oldest and largest of these framed, with the others shrink wrapped and fixed to the back of the frame. That frame hangs over our bed. The one and a half by two foot frame holds an old parchment, dated June 20, 1933, that reads :

"A workman that needeth not to be ashamed"
Course In
Sunday School Administration
this
Diploma
is awarded to
Mrs Mattie Belle Suddath
for the successful completion of Building a Standard Sunday School
issued by the
Sunday School Board
of the
Southern Baptist Convention
Nashville, Tennessee

of sequins and monkey suits...

Ok... so prom. I went to prom. I went to three separate proms, my senior prom and Jennifer's junior and senior proms. Proms are pretty standard and fall into two separate categories: DJ or live band. Either way, the music is going to suck. That's just a given.

But you go. You spend 2 weeks pay on a rental tux with a green sequined cummerbund (to match your date's dress) which your dad has to show you how to put on, and which your mother has to later correct because he got it wrong. Oh well... your dressed to the nines and ready to party.

The best moment of prom is rolling up to your date's house in your Geo like it was a limousine, walking up to the door, and lifting your tongue off the ground at the first site of your date in the dress. Oh, yes. You still remember the dress. You regain composure long enough to choke out the words "you look nice" as sweat beads and trickles down your nose. Somewhere between dinner and the drive to the high school gym you realize that the dress isn't the only stunning thing in your car.

But you go. And you dance. And yes, the music is crap. And yes, some kid tries to spike the punch. And yes, some kid has an older brother provid a keg and hotel room for the popular clique. And yes, too many desperate kids throw away their self-respect because they think it's the grown up thing to do. And yes, I did none of that. But I did danced with a beautiful girl in a killer blue dress, and took a walk in the rain at midnight, and hung out with my friends 'til dawn.

Prom. It is what it is. A teenage ritual, rite of passage, emotional coaster. But we had fun. So what bug crawled up the butt of these kids?

bound...

For a wedding gift, I wrote my brother and his wife this song.

barbeque boy...

More poetry inspired by Stacey's photography.

the long shift

slumped in a corner
not quite sitting
almost reclining
a delicate balance
teetering on bench edge
sliding over sleep's edge
the apron a blanket
the wall a pillow
the lunch break
a life time

how i feel right now...

After two short, 3 hour naps in the last 42 hours, I feel pretty much like a quivering, gelatinous mass of scyphozoian simi-consciousness floating in the cold, salt water of an aquatic peep show.

zzzzzzzzzz....

My, that sure was refreshing! Why would anyone want more than 3 hours of sleep?

where was yesterday's post?...

Hey Keith, sorry I could not make it in time to play guitar with you tonight. I had to stay late at work. So late in fact, I just got home...