from last year

I wrote this on a folder in an airplane during the holiday season of 2004. I can't remember if I was going home for Thanksgiving or Christmas.


The lights on the tips of the wings flash brightly in the black, black night. Little dashes of white blaze across my view out the tiny window, like static on a television or something electronic. I realize that it is raining.
We pull through the clouds and I see the points of light that comprize a city. too small to be Huntsville.



So many times I am near the wing of a plane. Now I am on top of it. The Exit Row. Can I understand and speak English and assist in the case of an emergency? I wonder what kind of emergency would leave me alive and this part of the plane available for exit. The sign on the wall/door/window says that the emergency door weighs 31 lbs. Even I could move that in an emergency. Right?

Turbulence. Lurches. My stomach protests.

It's been a long time since those tacos at lunch and the chips in the car.

whipped

You know when Jesus drove the merchants out of the temple?
John says that he made his own whip.
I wonder what it looked like when he was making that thing...
was he muttering under his breath?
was he perfectly calm?
was he talking to his disciples about how the whole thing was just wrong?


It seems like these things could tell us a lot about what Jesus was like. But they're not included. I guess when you tell a story, you bring in what was most important to you. What was most memorable to you. And other things were more important and/or memorable to them.
So maybe they should be more important to me.

In other news, I wish I could play the guitar.