A couple of days ago I finished the the last book of the Bean Series that all began with Ender’s Game. The highlights for me were Ender’s Game, Speaker For the Dead, and Ender’s Shadow, the first three I read of the eight book complete set. They were wonderful. Even Xenocide was pretty good, but some of the dialogue in the later books was nearly unbearable, trite. I have read and finished worse books, but like The Matrix, my expectations were set high. Still, I had invested in these characters and I wanted to know. So I finished (apparently there will be more, and I will, undoubtedly, read them) and one of the main things I gleaned from the last few month’s reading, a theme repeated in most of the Bean series, which I learned from Ender’s Game, is this: Love your enemy, so that you may destroy him completely.

…That’s in the Bible, isn’t it?

William R. Newell wrote these words of truth:

“Grace, once bestowed, is not withdrawn: for God knew all the human exigencies beforehand: His action was independent of them, not dependent upon them.”

“To believe, and to consent to be loved while unworthy, is the great secret.”

“To refuse to make ‘resolutions’ and ‘vows’; for that is to trust in the flesh.”

“To expect to be blessed, though realizing more and more lack of worth.”

“To rely on God’s chastening (child training) hand as a mark of His kindness.”

“To ‘hope to be better’ (hence acceptable) is to fail to see yourself in Christ only.”

“To be disappointed with yourself is to have believed in yourself.”

“To be discouraged is unbelief — as to God’s purpose and plan of blessing for you.”

“To be proud, is to be blind! For we have no standing before God, in ourselves.”

“The lack of Divine blessing, therefore, comes from unbelief, and not from failure of devotion.”

“To preach devotion first, and blessing second, is to reverse God’s order, and preach law, not grace. The Law made man’s blessing depend on devotion; Grace confers undeserved, unconditional blessing: our devotion may follow, but does not always do so — in proper measure.”

A trick question on my lips,
give me five bucks and I’ll take the loss.
Thirty’ll get the tail to bite the head.
So when I lie I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense;
it’s not for her anyway.
Tits got more per gurney sway!

She’s old. I know.
One hundred and twenty.
Ninety-seven.
And I am imposing, never played a record.
That’s a lie, I played “My Ding-a-ling,”
I played happy meal prizes.
I’ve folded around dogs.

Her secret message scared me.
I’m a scaredy-cat.
I get scared.
I’m feeling very well scared right now.
I’m too shallow for her dives.

But I want to tie her hair to mine,
to make a rainbow with our vapour.
To swing her son and read the paper.
Eins twine! I’m no genius,
only yellow-turn-brown.

Fly my kite!
Bake my pie!
Turn me ’round and
tell me what not!

I not
that
man,
man.

By request, I will be posting upcoming local performances with a little blurb on my role in the show and where and when it is. Here’s the next:

Choreographer’s Evening: November 25th 7 PM & 9:30 PM at the Walker Arts Center

– I have an eight minute piece I made this summer in this show where I explored the Trinity and the idea of perichoresis.

Pioneer Press

Star Tribune

Here’s a preview in the City Pages.

I responded to a Craigslist personal ad last night. The girl had written something that I have felt like writing: a list of repulsive traits. It was fun and sardonic. I responded in kind:

Hi, I am really nice! You found me!!!

I love you,
Bruno

She did respond. Not going to work, but it fulfilled an urge I’ve had for a while.

Star Tribune

Pioneer Press

…and how do I commemorate/christen the event? I walk to the Ace Hardware store down the street to buy a roll of Scott tissue paper, bring it home (yes, a word with new meaning for me), and, with gusto and a twinkle in my eye, mark my territory. I own this square footage.

Five- hundred and fifty. It sounds bigger when I write it out. It is small, but when you’re not a giant you need not a giant’s space. More efficient. I think short people will be the way of the future.

Anyway, here are some photos from the MLS site. Some are not of my specific unit, but you’ll get the idea.

So, new address:

1821 1st Avenue South #306
Minneapolis, MN 55403

The second thing I did to celebrate my new home was the laundry. Goodbye laundromats! Yippy-kai-yay!

Do you ever find yourself in a situation where you have some strong urge or desire to act where the morality is ambiguous and no matter how much you think about it it doesn’t become clearer? Then you finally do act on it and in your conscious mind you believe your intentions are altruistic, but you’re not quite sure what’s lurking in your subconsciousness. You suspect you’re not as unexpecting as you’ve convinced yourself you are, or as empathetic. But you still do it. You take the chance that the loving intentions overwhelm the selfish enough to come through.

It a leap that’s fricken scary and exhilarating, like releasing an adolescent lion bred in captivity into the wild. It’s out of your hands, free to do its work, but it may come back and hunt you.

I’m a week from closing on my first piece of real estate. I’m approaching 30, divorced and single, no kids, am making just enough to buy a 550 sq. ft. condo (and that’s stretching it a little), and haven’t thought much about preparing for retirement. At this age my mom had two kids, on her second marriage, owned house and was the sales manager of the business at which she worked. My dad had, I think, 4-going-on-5 kids, had been in the army, was married still, had two houses in Hawaii, and was well established in his career as a Sears repairman. It seems like they had so much more responsibility and investment at my age than I do at my age.

The thing is, I don’t want kids right now. I’m not ready for kids right now; there’s not even a prospective mother. Buying this condo has freaked me out a little. It means I need to stick around for a while. But I am less jittery about being in one place now. Much less so! Heck, I’ve been living in this apartment for 4 years already. I think I have figured out that it’s not commitment that freaks me out, it’s commitment when I have no room to flex. If it’s right, I can commit wholeheartedly.

I love where I am right now career-wise. I like the variety, and I like that I don’t have to “report” to anybody, and I like that I get to create and get to deal with people a little. I’m not sure how much longer I will sub as I am getting weary of not being able to build longer relationships, but the pros outweigh the cons right now. I will dance for the rest of my life, though, to some degree. That feels right.

I love that I am moving into a condo with an association that takes care of the building maintenance. I can still leave for touring and not have to think about mowing the lawn. I still have Pumpkin to find care for, but I know lots of cat lovers. I love that I will own it and that I am not throwing money away in rent. I love that it fits me.

I love that I am single because I can do a lot of stuff that I couldn’t do if I wasn’t. I still have responsibility for Pumpkin and bills and loans, but I am free to follow my volition. Yet, that’s what’s lacking, too. I want, eventually, to be responsible to someone and for someones. I really am, mostly, content with where I am, but if the right ship comes by, boy, I will leap from the pier.

I am much wiser than I was five years ago, but I still feel like a kid often. I still feel like I’ve yet to find my “place.” A home. Yes, yes, yes, that’s probably heavenly longing, but it’s also a longing to find residence outside of myself and in someone else.

Little by little I am investing myself so that hopefully someday I will be able to focus my energies on taking care of someone else because I’m being taken care of myself. Well, maybe I have thought of retirement more than I had believed I had. I don’t really care that much about the money part though. Never have. Right now I am saving up ideas and places and jokes and memories to share with my progeny and wife. Like I said, I need room to flex, but with trust that, like a muscle, I’m still attached.