The Weather

I wonder what we would talk about, if we could no longer talk about the weather

What other topics of conversation can you have with complete strangers that don’t begin with, “nice day” or “it’s cold out?”

What if the weather was neither good nor bad, it just was? And it was as constant as death so you could no longer say things like “hear a cold front’s coming through” because you would know.

What if there were no weather predictions or prophesies about the clouds coming in or the sun getting hotter?

What would we have to talk about?

You can’t talk about politics, you say something about being conservative or being liberal and you’re bound to offend someone at sometime.

You can’t talk about the government because some people want less and others want more and some want none at all.

I guess you could talk about movies. Movies are pretty safe, but then again you might like chic flicks and I might like art films. but then if you like Nicholas Cage he is in neither and if you do like Nicholas Cage well then I don’t really know what to say to you at all.

I guess you could talk about the stock market and whether you need a plunger for all the plunging that’s happening or a glass of champagne for all the money you’re making.

But let’s face it, I don’t really want to make small talk about the market, because then we’ll get into a discussion about capitalism, and greed, and I’ll probably disagree with you.

I guess we could talk about sports, that’s pretty neutral, but I know nothing about sports, so I’d probably make some comment about how that basket ball team needs to make more touchdowns.

Or maybe we could talk about something more personal and when I asked you how your day was going instead of responding, “well, the weather sucks,”

maybe you would be so vulnerable as to tell me about how you feel lonely, frustrated, like a bird trapped against a window,

and how you only wish you could break through the glass but those addictions got teeth into and you’re not sure if you’ll ever see sky again.

Instead of small talk we could make honest talk, but sometimes I get uncomfortable undressing in front of strangers.

Maybe we could talk about how our house needs more insulation or less, and how our closet door won’t shut right cause the damn hinges are broken.

But I think we need somewhere to direct our frustration

I think we need the clouds, whether they’re black and swirling, or white and twirling

I think we need days when it rains too much and days and days when the sun’s too hot and days when it’s so cold it feels like you could break the air with an axe.

Because sometimes, we just need to be able to say, this weather sucks.

MPAA Ratings

The reshooting of Robin Hood as described by the seven year old kid I live with, will be rated PG-13 for graphics, violence, and fires, according to the crayon poster hanging in our kitchen.

Prophetic Love

Perhaps I had a few drinks. Perhaps I was very tired from opening early yesterday with no time for a nap. But I had a religious experience last night. It involved Bon Iver and a photograph. I was listening to Bon Iver’s new album on NPR and, just as I hoped, it was beautiful and sad and rich in every good way, and just as I was really getting into it, you know like how it sometimes takes a couple listens at first, I saw a photograph that my friend Justin posted. Normally I would not think much of it, maybe write something on his wall like, “Dude, cool.” But it struck me in a very profound way. As I’m sure you’ve seen by now, the photograph is of a couple kissing in the middle of the street behind a riot officer and in front of a fire. What is happening? The Vancouver Riots. Because the only thing Canadians will riot for is hockey.

The photograph makes you stop. For one, it is a bit lewd, I know. You can pretty much see the girl’s ass. But it is alarming and surprising and beautiful, because here is a couple completely consumed with their love—out of touch with the riots happening around them or the fact that there is a SWAT officer and a fire within ten feet of them. I’m not sure how long the kiss went on for, it could have been ten minutes, it could have been one second. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that this picture is a prophetic picture.

I thought of it as a metaphor for subversive love in a riotous world. How incredible would it be if our love could look like this? What if we didn’t care as the world burned around us? What if we were so consumed with our love for another person, a city, God, that our love caused others to stop and wonder “Who in the world has time for a kiss at a moment like this?”