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Name: Rachel Birthday: 5/19/1986 Gender: Female
Interests: Theology, Music, Philosophy, Art, Language, Science, Law, Writing, Thinking, Reading, Speaking, Dancing, Walking, Singing, Photography, History, Film, The Human Mind, Justice, Friendship, Science Fiction, Cultural Trends, Mercy Ministry, Teaching, Missions, Public Policy, Research etc. Expertise: Organization, Procrastination, Asking Questions, Getting in and out of trouble, Living on very little sleep, Cleaning really dirty things, Thinking, Forgetting what I'm doing while I'm doing it Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
1/5/2005
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| Every Morning When his mercies are new my mercy is thin like the fog draped across the roof tops.
Civitas Sunshine in the city Refractions in the glass and puddles Blinding light of Civilization.
First Quarter Moon God smiles down at night with his Cheshire grin. Clouds floating by aimlessly; participating in a cosmic game of peek-a-boo.
Minus Thirty Snow-pack like dirt when we drive we use all four wheels the wind whips up the snow devils we take our skis off the rack I'll drive the van while you jump the waves on the lake --frozen in delicate spray-- winter water skiing
I miss the summer. But we can have our summer love while walking in our winter summer land. Besides, I look cuter in boots and a scarf... but then again who doesn't?
Today I stepped in a river which other days is known as a street If I didn't have an umbrella my raincoat would get wet. In fact, my shoes and socks might be less-wet. If I didn't have a raincoat, my sweatshirt would be soaked through to my blouse and unmentionables.
Dirt smells dirtier in the rain.
I wonder how many songs on my i-pod mention rain?
This is not an angry storm with lots of crashing and lighting of fires in the sky. It is a heartsick storm with much weeping, moaning and nose blowing. This storm will destroy Nature's psyche. It is a Marianne-Dashwood-scale tantrum of grief and betrayal. Nature will never again smile so sweetly as she did in the summer. Her lover has left and we alone are here to endure her wailing, until a new love comes along.
Drip, splash swoosh dribble Swilling Swirling puking-passed-out-drunk on rainwater.
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| "Is this not the fast that I have chosen: To loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that you break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and that you bring to your house the poor who are cast out; when you see the naked, that you cover him, and not hide yourself from your own flesh? Then your light shall break forth like the morning, your healing shall spring forth speedily, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard." (Is. 58:6-8) | | |
| I've always been a fan of photographic "literature." Right now I'm fascinated by NPR's list of neat looking (though mostly expensive) Big Picture books. Check it out at: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=97110660&sc=nl&cc=bn-20081201
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| TrafficWaiting to drive across... Will the man on the bridge jump to his death? He must have We are moving now Some people cheer The dead don't cheer They don't even scream The Silence of the unborn souls is louder, but some how more convenient for bus riders than an untimely suicide. The Long Walk Home Feet: cotton plastered Hair: basket woven rainstorm misery umbrella inside out Glad to be home.
Autumnial Soup Puddle colored chlorophyl Green, Yellow, Red right side up wrong side down reflections and flections more and more riboflavin-rich sop.
Color me highly amused: a short story Children eating oranges and pretzels after the noon time swim. No one actually caring about the condition of the food; merely focused on the playful potential that practical people hate. Bohemia in marble-decked upper class suburbia.
Moment at the mirror: another short story Vainly she stares in the looking glass. Reflections prettier than photos. Photogenial people don't know the pleasure of a mirror ---momentarily satisfied with the self same specter.
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