Saturday, October 04, 2003

A couple of weeks ago, Phish and I ate at a Honeybaked Ham restaurant on a Saturday. We were talking about how I observe the Sabbath from Friday's sundown to Saturday's. Also how it was silly that I was going to have a huge slab of ham on the Sabbath.
In the course of the conversation, it came up that neither of us knew why the Christians had moved their Sabbath to Sunday, if you can even call it a Sabbath. Their day of worship anyway. I said I'd do some research and try to find out.
Here's the answer I dug up. The original Sabbath, observed on Saturday, comes from the creation story in Genesis. On the seventh day of creation God rested. In the ten commandments, it says to keep the seventh day holy and as our day of rest in reflection of God and all the groovy stuff He does. In Jewish tradition, the day starts at sunset and ends at sunset. I don't know why. Maybe that'll be the next research project.
So, along comes the early church. It's important to note that the early church put a lot into the idea that the coming of the messiah wiped the slate clean for the new church to be built. A cynic might see this as a way for them to toss out whatever commandments they want and keep the ones they like. I wont say that because I'm the guy eating ham on Saturdays.
But what I do know is that the early Christian church believed that Christ died and was buried on a Friday (hence Good Friday.) This is early enough in the church history that it may actually be true from eye witness accounts. Therefore, they believed that Christ rose from the grave on a Sunday for those of you keeping score. Early church worship was mainly a celebration on Sundays of the resurrection.
It's also speculated that the early church did this to distinguish themselves from the Jewish community from which a large portion of them came.
I should also note that the Seventh Day Adventists, a Christian denomination, doesn't cotton to Sunday worship. They go with the Saturday as a day of worship school of thought.

Anyway, I spent most of the day with Mom. My father is in Utah trying to shoot an elk for meat. I don't know if it's any elk or if he's like Ahab after one in particular. Mom and I went to Stats to look at the Halloween stuff. Then we went to the DVD store where she had a gift certificate and we got "Jim Henson's Storyteller." It was a series from either the late `80's or early `90's that only had 9 episodes. But it had a profound impact on me and until this day remained one of the many works of Jim Henson that I wish somebody would release. Now they've got to put out "Timepiece." I bought myself a patch in the shape of Gir from Invader Zim.
We went to the pet store and got my fish some other fish to eat and some peanuts to put out for the two blue jays we've seen recently. We learned that the blue jays are burying the peanuts in my parent's backyard.
I took a short nap and then we went out for Thai food.
Tha's all.

Friday, October 03, 2003

WHY I SHOULD BE RICH
By Reverend Paul Mathers

My idea is that if I were rich, unlike rich people, it would be my goal to get rid of it as quickly as possible (which is why I'll never be rich.)

If I had $100,000 I would first pay off my student loans. With the remaining $80,000 I'd put 10 aside for like a year or so's rent on a little studio apartment somewhere near Hayward where 10 would be like a year and a half's rent. Here in Orange County it'd be about ten month's worth for a studio. I'd put 60 into opening an awesome used bookstore. The remaining 10 I'd use to do something cool for my friends like have Neil Gaiman come give a speech in my living room. Or maybe Kevin Smith.

If I had a million, I'd do all of the same except get a nice little house instead of an apartment somewhere rural where it'd be cheap. Some shack on some land for like 50 thou. Grow my food and shoot God's creatures for meat.

If I had 100 million, I'd do exactly the same as above. With the remaining 99 million, I'd find like 18 charities to give five million to. Seva, RAINN, PETA, The Mockingbird Foundation, and so forth. That'd be easy. One of them would be KUSC, the classical public radio station worth a tinker's damn in this area. One would be the Chapman University theater department to build a decent new theater. And because I'm a supercool rich guy, I'd name it something relevant like the Marlowe or the Shaw or the Brecht theater instead of naming it after myself. Then I'd take, the other eight million and start a theater company for unknown actors, unknown playwrights and unknown directors to get their chops and get their name in a decent sized theater company.

Which is all reasons why I'll always be scraping it.

Thursday, October 02, 2003

I am Sisyphus with a hutch instead of a rock. First of all, the door people didn't come until 1:30pm. They said 8:00am sharp. Nice.
Dude got here and took one look at the door and said, "They measured wrong. The door we have is 3 inches shorter than this door."
It was about three when I started moving the hutch back. They said they'd be back in two weeks with a proper sized door. I tried very hard to avoid looking at my day as half wasted.
I did some gardening and straightened up the stacks of books in my inventory since it was too late to do anything else business related today. Then I went for an hour long walk down the beach to walk this day out of my head.
While I walked, Lob called and told me to swing by the Liquid Den. It was acoustic night. So I went and listened to some guitar pickin' and chatted up Lob for a while. Then I came home and had some tea to wipe the ocean chill off me bones.

Wednesday, October 01, 2003

I was going to walk to the post office to ship the books that sold this morning. It was a nice morning and I had nothing better to do. I had four books to ship today, none to put into the computer and I've exhausted my purchasing sources in the past two weeks and am giving aquisitions a break. It's about a forty minute walk each way to the post office. But then my folks had a project for me that led me to the decision to drive instead.
The project is this:
Their house is probably a WPA house from the thirties. Maybe a little older but not much. It has pretty much the original everything including a terrible ventilation system in the bathroom and an ancient sliding glass door to the backyard. The door is so old (by American standards anyway) that the tracks that the door slides on are well down the primose path of entropy. So, they're getting a new door installed tomorrow. In their normal style, they've waiting until this morning to ask me to help them with a project.
They have, right next to the back door, a hutch which contained their breakfast cereal, cookbooks, their china and bowls, some old glasses from drinks they had on cruises, their scissors and many pens both felt and ball point, pans, stickers, a very old sack of cookies, tea, several calculators, stamps, bills, coupons from the last ten years, and much more miscellanea. I know this because the first half of the day I spent cleaning it out.
The hutch is about six feet high. I don't know what it weighs. I'm guessing around three hundred pounds based on what it felt like moving it, inching it back and forth away from the backyard door to give room for the workers tomorrow. My back is saying around three hundred pounds right now.

Then I sat out in the backyard and got some reading done. I probably should have gone out tonight, but didn't. But I did get to talk with my brother. Things are mellowing out up there right now for the time being. Jonathan is taking Motrin, which seems to help and he seems to hate. They say he clamps his mouth shut when they try and give it to him "just like a normal baby" (their words.) He's also feeding again, but not enough. So, we continue to wait and try and go on with our lives as best we can.

The good news is that I learned today that Neil Gaiman is coming to Los Angeles in mid-November. I'ma get tickets for that. Also I learned that "Bubba-Hotep," the film I've been waiting for, opens this Friday.

Tuesday, September 30, 2003

Today I went to the drug store to buy more valerian in case we get called away to Chico soon. I wouldn't want to be out of it on a trip like that. Plus I haven't been sleeping very deeply for about two weeks. It's been fitful. Two nights ago I got less than four hours. But that doesn't bother me like it used to.
Today I went to visit Charles. We had a really awesome conversation.
Also, Phish wrote me with the curiosity that an advertisement for the Harry Potter book has appeared at the top of my blog the day that I mentioned "Rowling" and "children's book author." She also told me that if you google "Reverend Paul" I'm on the second page.
Then I went to the comic book store and got the second Death graphic novel completing my Gaiman Sandman library collection.
I came home and put the few books I had left to stick into inventory online. Then I cut out some ferns with nasty nasty thorns near the backdoor.
My mother bought a new car tonight. It's blue and I have no idea what model or make it is.
It's Daniel Handler what am Lemony Snickett. And let me ammend the last post by stating that I sincerly hope that Mr. Handler goes on to make millions and influence a generation. I hope his series lives on for hundreds of years and is read by people of all ages for many reasons. One of the main reasons is that it will make Harold Bloom look like a bigger swine than he already looks like.

Monday, September 29, 2003

I heard that Mr. Handler (Douglas or Daniel or David), the gentleman who writes under the psuedonym Lemony Snickett (hope I didn't burst any illusions out there. If I did, write me and I'll tell you all about a cat named St. Nicholas), owns a Victorian mansion in San Fransisco. That shows you the kind of money that a big time children's book author, probably second only to Rowling, makes. Then I thought of Neil Gaiman, while I was walking. He lives in a two story house in Minnesota surrounded by a few acres of property, which is probably very nice and probably costs about as much as a rat hole does in San Fransisco. As I walked I saw a torn out piece of a back cover of an R.L. Stein book in the gutter and it hit me. I hope that Mr. Handler has a good accountant. Because he's just making as much as Gaiman will in his lifetime in the course of a few years.
Just a thought.
Wow, Blogger just ate two of my posts. One was about yesterday. The other was trying to bump the first message out of the ether and onto my blog. They are gone.
So, I'll retell the story of yesterday.
Phish, Charles, Yod, Jessica and I went up to LA to the World Fest. We thought World Fest would be more along the Green line because of the speakers they had lined up, but it seemed to be dominated by the animal liberation crowd. I got about five feet away from Dennis Kuchinich. He gave a pretty good, general speech. He'd be my favorite for president, which means he has about as much of a chance of winning as I do. But at least he's out there saying what he is saying. Phish and I decided at the last minute not to go meet him because he was trying to get going and we didn't really have anything to say to him apart from "I like you."
I did get to meet Farmer Hoggett. James Cromwell really. He gave a gloomy speech about how we're all doomed by our leaders and our poor air quality or something like that.
He's very tall. And very polite. I thanked him for coming to speak and told him that I knew he does a lot of great work. He thanked me, shook my hand and said it was an honor to meet me. I didn't tell him that I think Babe is one of the best films ever.
Then we went to look at the kitties that the animal liberation folk were trying to find good homes for.
Then we ate sub-par Chinese fast food.
Then we went to Jason's artist salon in Van Nuys. Jason was in `The Dadaists.' Last night he made a butt painting where we put on rubber gloves, painted his butt with fingerpaint and then he sat on a poster board. The result was more interesting that I expected.
There were also poets and a few film clips and some bad stand up comics and an actor.
On the way home, Phish taught me something that I didn't know. She taught me that I really really like the band Cake. I borrowed their cd.
Then I didn't sleep. I was probably thinking too much.
This morning I had three books ship (we seem to be slowing down for a few weeks before Christmas shopping starts.) One was the Legend of Sleepy Hollow.
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