Yes, there was a soup pot in the cab of my truck. No, I don't remember why.
One of the things I found in my truck was a favorite cd, Five Iron Frenzy's Quantity Is Job 1. I don't often talk about my favorite music; it seems like my opinions on music are often met with shocked silence that someone as intelligent and charming as me could have such abysmal taste.* I like everything about this cd, though, especially how the second half is a rock opera on a pair of unclaimed pants.
My version is burned copy of my sister Kim's, who bought it at a Christian bookstore. With no disrespect intended to Christian bookstore proprietors in general, this particular bookstore is a disorganized mish-mash of flowery bookmarks and Bible cases, godly smut books set either in the 1800's or in Lancaster County, and Left Behind paraphernalia.
(Do you have your official Left Behind tote bag? It's perfect for all your 'carrying cash to heaven' needs. Get yours before Jesus comes back and it's too late to accessorize your heavenly gown!)
The store is well intended, I'm sure, but I don't remember ever being a fan of going there. Usually I get excited about bookstores, but the books in this store just aren't that exciting, although I bet they have the new spring line of KJVs. It's not the sort of place where I expect to find an album with lyrics like these:
Go and get your riotgear,
swing your girlie all around,
we'll be dancing on the cinders,
as the town is burning down.
The best part of the song, though, is that it doesn't sound angry at all, just goofiness and peppy ska. The difference between your average antiauthority folks and Five Iron Frenzy is that they have fun while cop-baiting.
Over Christmas, I told Kim that I was going to take a preaching class this semester. She laughed, asked if I was going to come preach at their church (answer: not without a sex change) at then started singing a song off this album:
My evil plan to save the world,
just you wait 'till it's unfurled,
it'll go down in history.
It's prophetic, no it's not pathetic.
I can't believe I made it up myself
This is one of my favorite songs on the cd, and remains so even though I hummed it over and over during that preaching class, grinning and imagining myself in the pulpit insisting that I'm prophetic, not pathetic, and you ought to listen to my plan.
She also tried to rap "Livin' in a Feminazi Paradise," but that's a different story altogether.
Anyway, I'm listening to this cd today while 'working' on my discernment paper. I need to call my mother soon for the sort of conversations that worried mothers have with unemployed daughters who read too much.** The song Dandelions made me think of my mom today, which is the point of this whole rambling post.
In a field of yellow flowers,
underneath the sun,
bluest eyes that spark with lightning,
boy with shoes undone.
He is young, so full of hope,
reveling in tiny dreams,
filling up, his arms with flowers,
right for giving any queen.
Running to her beaming bright,
while cradling his prize.
A flickering of yellow light,
within his mother's eyes.
She holds them to her heart,
keeping them where they'll be safe,
clasped within her very marrow,
dandelions in a vase.
She sees love, where anyone else would see weeds.
all hope is found.
Here is everything he needs.
*intelligent and charming = arrogant and underexposed to normal pop culture, I guess.
**Mother's Day is for commies. Just saying.
6 comments:
I too love bookstores, but personally the sugary fluff of most christian bookstores makes me about as sick as does the lattes from the machines in gas stations. (That's not saying much for the bookstore.) I long for the depths and they offer me claptrap. :)
I was tempted to get the spring line of bibles until I realized that they were KJV. Now, if they had been NLT or NRSV, I would have been on top of that!
Wait, what was Iggy Pop doing in your truck? And how did you get him into a soup pot?!? ;)
And as for your taste in music-- don't feel defensive. That you continued to talk to me after I sprung Parliament Funkadelic on you says a lot.
Christopher, I never thought to compare bookstores and coffee, even though it seems like a natural connection. I drink my coffee black (and in fact I'm doing so right now) but I can definitely relate to the sugarsickness after eating a gas station donut.
Kate, you should call Nelson Publishing and complain until they publish a NRSV version, and then accessorize your holy fashion with a wwjd necklace and a Bible verse t-shirt. That would be totally cool.
Brian, that guy with the massive flashlight from Parliament Funkadelic cd jacket remains a lasting memory of the Plowshares conference. More lasting than most of the speakers.
I'm afraid I'll have to keep mum on the matter of Iggy Pop in a soup pot, however.
Iggy Pop would fit better in a soup pot than George Clinton.
True enough. George would be too busy trying to smoke it...
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