pommes frites

Jami came home to Decatur for the Labor Day weekend. We had a lot of fun. And somehow I have not posted anything since Thursday. I began something yesterday about the photographer Eadweard Muybridge and capturing the motion of the human figure, but I don't want to finish it right now. Instead I want to think about a time, earlier today before Jami went back to Durham, where we sat outside of the Crescent Moon and ate sweet potato fries - or sweet potato pommes frites. What a beautiful lunch it was, with just a touch of Autumn in the air. I sat and talked with the most beautiful woman in the world: terrible puns and the arcane activities of the human mind and heart. She'll be back in town for my examination on the floor of Presbytery Sept 15th. Only 12 days away. This is what my teachers at seminary called living in liminal space - or what my counselor calls, living outside of my comfort zone. It should build strong bones and healthy teeth - it's like eating carrots, like eating beets, like driving the speed limit, like doing homework before dinner, like exercising 45 minutes a day and raising my heart rate for 20 minutes.
After I dropped Jami off at the air port, I went back home, and then on to my studio. I looked at this painting that started out as a painting of the endowment but now it's probably Hercules at the crossroads of folly and virtue: the lobster, the playing card, the watermelon - all gone. Jami likes it better this way. Maybe some other day, I 'll get a lobster into a painting. I didn't stay at the studio long before I called Bob to see what he was up to. He let me invite myself over to his house to aid him in erecting this IKEA loft bed. Being with another human being was good. It was good to talk about the Braves abysmal chances. I find a great deal of comfort in their mediocrity this season: they're underachieving at a high level. Earlier this season Jami and I went to a ball game where Mark Redman gave up five runs in the very first inning. Jami saw a man searching for his dignity. Now even though he's gone, the Braves have plenty of other pitchers looking for their dignity. If the Mets were to play 500 baseball the rest of the season, the Braves would have to go 20-4. Back in the 1990s they might go 20-4 for a month; all the Mets would have to do is play one game over 500, and even that effort is rendered moot. Fortunately there is Kierkegaard. The solace of life is to be an existing individual. Kierkegaard says that such a life is an art. Dear Lord give us peace in our soul, encircle us with your love, let your spirit rest in our hearts and comfort us: that all will be well, that beyond our efforts and beyond our strength, the love that created the universe and holds all things together, sustains us; and that nothing can separate us from your love. Amen