Nameless; No Longer Counting

"You look like a clown," is what he told me It's too the point now that whenever I dream about nameless; that I've stopped counting them; I've also writing about it every time.

Whenever I was seeing Tim he asked me what would he think about me now that he's gone. Now that he is stripped away from tangible.

At the time the question almost seemed like an insult to my intelligence. But it was actually an insult to my pride. Either way, all of it has been confirmed.

An Apology to The Christmas Tree

I wanted to share this artical that I read today. I tend to be quite prudish around the Holiday Seasons, so with that I will deliver this apology. I'm often most hard on the Pagan Christmas tree theory that is mentioned in the following words. The writer here has a great rebuttle to the argument, and so with it I will rest close this case with the following statement:

"It's just not that important to make an argument about."

Jeremiah 10 and the "Pagan" Christmas Tree

by Dr. Richard P. Bucher

A number or well-meaning readers of the "Origin and Meaning of the Christmas Tree" article have written me with questions or accusations based on Jeremiah 10. These readers state that Jeremiah 10 proves that the Christmas tree is a pagan custom and is forbidden by God. Therefore, they argue, all those who decorate a Christmas tree in their home are sinning in God's sight. This is quite the serious charge. Let us briefly examine Jeremiah 10 and the argument based upon it to see if there is any merit to this argument.

What exactly does Jeremiah 10 say? Below is Jeremiah 10:1-10:

This is what the LORD says: "Do not learn the ways of the nations or be terrified by signs in the sky, though the nations are terrified by them. 3 For the customs of the peoples are worthless; they cut a tree out of the forest, and a craftsman shapes it with his chisel. 4 They adorn it with silver and gold; they fasten it with hammer and nails so it will not totter. 5 Like a scarecrow in a melon patch, their idols cannot speak; they must be carried because they cannot walk. Do not fear them; they can do no harm nor can they do any good." 6 No one is like you, O LORD; you are great, and your name is mighty in power. 7 Who should not revere you, O King of the nations? This is your due. Among all the wise men of the nations and in all their kingdoms, there is no one like you. 8 They are all senseless and foolish; they are taught by worthless wooden idols. 9 Hammered silver is brought from Tarshish and gold from Uphaz. What the craftsman and goldsmith have made is then dressed in blue and purple-- all made by skilled workers. 10 But the LORD is the true God; he is the living God, the eternal King. When he is angry, the earth trembles; the nations cannot endure his wrath.

The verses that the concerned readers repeatedly cite are 10:2-4: "Do not learn the ways of the nations . . . For the customs of the peoples are worthless; they cut a tree out of the forest, and a craftsman shapes it with his chisel. 4 They adorn it with silver and gold; they fasten it with hammer and nails so it will not totter." "Aha!" these readers say. "Jeremiah is talking about the Christmas tree!" But closer examination reveals that he certainly is not! First, there is the immediate context of this passage. The very next verse, 10:5, goes on to say, "Like a scarecrow in a melon patch, their idols cannot speak; they must be carried because they cannot walk. Do not fear them; they can do no harm nor can they do any good." This passage and the passages that follow make it crystal clear that the "decorated tree" that Jeremiah was talking about in 10:3-4, was a tree that was cut down and made into an idol, a very common custom in the ancient world. 10:8-10 also confirms this, where the wooden idols are contrasted with the LORD, who is the true and living God. Keil and Delitsch, the well-respected Old Testament commentary, confirms this interpretation that the trees in question were idols that were then worshiped (C. F. Keil and F. Delitsch, Commentary on the Old Testament, "Jeremiah, Lamentations," vol 8 (Grand Rapids: William B. Eeerdmans Publishing Company, 1980), 196-199). Second, when we search the rest of the Old Testament, we find many other examples of trees being planted, cut down, or carved into idols. One of the most common examples of a tree idol was the Asherah, mentioned often in the Old Testament. Asherah was a pagan goddess that was worshiped throughout the Mediterranean world. She was considered to be the goddess of the sea, the consort of El, and the mother of Baal. She was always represented as a tree or pole, either planted or erected, then decorated. There are many warnings in the Old Testament about the Asherah tree. For example, in Exodus 34:12-14, we read, "Be careful not to make a treaty with those who live in the land where you are going, or they will be a snare among you. 13 Break down their altars, smash their sacred stones and cut down their Asherah poles. 14 Do not worship any other god, for the LORD, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God." From a more thorough study we learn that the Asherah idol was sometimes planted (Deut. 16:21; Micah 5:14), sometimes erected at high places (1 Kings 14:23, 2 Kings 17:10), with altars and incense stands next to them where they would be worshiped (In Judges 6:25, Gideon is commanded by God to "Tear down your father's altar to Baal and cut down the Asherah pole beside it." See also Isaiah 17:8 and Jeremiah 17:2). The Asherah, along with other man-made idols, were often decorated with various cloth hangings (2 Kings 23:7), as well as gold and silver. Isaiah 44:14-19 gives a detailed picture of how a tree was cut down and fashioned into an idol - and the absurdity of it all.

He cut down cedars, or perhaps took a cypress or oak. He let it grow among the trees of the forest, or planted a pine, and the rain made it grow. 15 It is man's fuel for burning; some of it he takes and warms himself, he kindles a fire and bakes bread. But he also fashions a god and worships it; he makes an idol and bows down to it. 16 Half of the wood he burns in the fire; over it he prepares his meal, he roasts his meat and eats his fill. He also warms himself and says, "Ah! I am warm; I see the fire." 17 From the rest he makes a god, his idol; he bows down to it and worships. He prays to it and says, "Save me; you are my god." 18 They know nothing, they understand nothing; their eyes are plastered over so they cannot see, and their minds closed so they cannot understand. 19 No one stops to think, no one has the knowledge or understanding to say, "Half of it I used for fuel; I even baked bread over its coals, I roasted meat and I ate. Shall I make a detestable thing from what is left? Shall I bow down to a block of wood?"

From the foregoing, it is abundantly clear that the "decorated tree" to which Jeremiah 10 refers is an idol, very likely the Asherah. Therefore, it is very superficial Bible interpretation and pure silliness to understand this passage as directly referring to the use of a fir tree for Christmas! If, and I repeat, if those who set up a Christmas tree fall down and worship it as a god or goddess, complete with altars and incense stands, then Jeremiah 10 applies here. Or if someone loves their Christmas tree more than God, then such a thing might also be considered spiritual idolatry. But apart from these exceptions, I think it is abundantly clear that Christians who erect Christmas trees are NOT worshiping them as gods or goddesses, nor are they loving them more than their Savior Jesus Christ. They are simply using the Christmas tree as a fun custom, one that can remind them of Jesus who is the branch of David (Jeremiah 23:5; 33:15), the root of Jesse (Isaiah 11:1). One that can remind them of the tree that led Adam and Eve to sin, but more importantly, the tree on which Christ Jesus died to make atonement for the sins of the whole world (Acts 5:30; Gal. 3:13; 1 Peter 2:24). Christians should know that they can use a Christmas tree with a good conscience. It is unfortunate and wrong when well-meaning Christians call something sin that is not sin, and enslave the consciences of their fellow believers with imaginary sin! Shame on such Christians! Those who continue to believe that the Christmas tree is pagan and sinful, even after having their conscience correctly informed, should not use them. For it is not right to sin against conscience. This is regrettable, however, since there is absolutely nothing wrong with using a Christmas tree. December, 2000

You're Such a Mean Person

"You can be such a disrespectful person..." Jumping from star to star, "Goodbye."

What is there to be said; Despite the circumstances of how people who matter to me feel about my behavior, I think I may have found a muse under all of this.

I don't know when it happened; whenever I became so mean. These twenty-six laps around the sun have shown me many circles, but the most peculiar and tragic of them all is how I become distasteful, disrespectful, and rude to people that I care about.

The pattern is as follows: I befriend, we concentrate, then sometime after this my presence becomes too ripe. Is it that I slowly remove my mask over time, so that they're first impression is purposefully misread in order to buy time, and keep them as a friend as long as possible? How do people burn out on me?

It makes me feel like I should socially caged, so that people would know to keep a certain distance.

It's like whenever you go on a trail ride with horses. If you have a horse that is prone to kick or buck at horses behind him in line, you can tie a ribbon around the horses tail, and people will know why.

blue tv screen light

I'm in the bed right now. Free signal is in my walls, and spouts from my television. Whenever I was a kid, I thought that church TV was really lame, but there really isn't anything else on the magic box that I would let just flow into my house so frivolous. There is something about being locked in your house, during the bleak mid winter, with only the tv on. These words have been on my mind lately.

Church Piano

It seems as if I've been kicked out of my band for the rest of the month. I don't blame them I'm not the most dedicated of members, and ever since nameless; died I've found it harder and harder to give myself over to the church. With the Christmas season in the air, and the requests of the Christmas Cantata, I have been more than vocal about not participating in the ceremonies that the band will be keeping at the church. I haven't exactly been fed up with the church or the band. I'm pretty much over whatever scuffs that I've had with Ryan. Also, I've enjoyed my time with the team since I was demoted--for natural reasons.

With all that said, I'm not very upset about it. There is a issue whenever a musician is not connected to his church. Whenever he is merely just a musician and not a member, then it becomes a job and not a ministry. With the light of knowing that others are compensated for what they do musically, but I'm not, I guess there starts to be weight and value set on things that in the beginning didn't matter.

That's where you start to realize what you're there for in the first place:

"Do I play piano for Patton Village Church because I expect something in return?" or "Do I play piano for Patton Village Church because it is what the Lord called me to do?"

Whenever nameless; and I were still together, I resigned from the church, only to return to them once they called and asked for me to come back. At the time I wasn't in a position to turn down any opportunities from the Lord, so I took it as "word" and went back. Since then my time at the church has made an ass out of me, and I've learned where my breaking points are because of it.

But in honesty, after nameless; died I had no more zeal for Family Freedom Church. I had no interest in hearing what they had to say to me about anything. Not that any of them had done anything wrong, but because of the mere fact that I don't really know them, they don't really know me, and I am in no way in community with these people. This is pretty much based on the factor of distance. None of these things are bad things, but it boils down to that I'm not member of their congregation; I'm just there on assignment.

Perhaps the assignments over. We'll take the rest of December to find that out I guess.

early, sleepy Monday

Sometimes I think that I like the Spice Girls a little too much :) Last night once I knew it was time to go to sleep I was kicking myself. By the time my head hit the pillow, it was close to 2:00 am: two hours past my bed time. Now, one this Monday morning, I'm super sleepy--sending out emails that I'm not even sure what I was talking about. ONE HOUR ENERGY + COFFEE = I think I'm going to make it. My stomach is in disarray. I've been eating like absolute shit, and I can tell. I'm gaining some sort of mass in this winter season.

None of these words are worth being read. I'm just trying to make myself wake up.

Going into the studio? Yes, yes; I am going into the studio. On February 2nd, I'll return to Huntsville to lay down some tracks. I don't have much to say really. I have two or three straggling songs that I would like to solidify, and also I'll be increasing my repertoire with some great hymns and worship songs.

I was slightly hesitant to move into the studio for this year. I think last year whenever I decided to go in for Aquarian Floods it was because I knew that I had a lot to say that was just hanging out in standby mode. This year, It seems that I have exhausted my material, but the urge to go into the studio is still strong. I keep thinking to myself that I signed a record deal with ME last year, and that I have a commitment to fulfill.

I'm looking forward to increasing my repertoire.

Demons

I saw a movie earlier that brought me to these words. I wonder if people actually believe that demon possession is something that could be released as easily as a modern day exorcism movie would make it appear. I wonder if people actually believe that demon possession is always as extreme as a modern day exorcism movie makes is appear. Demonic attack doesn't always happen like we think it does. I think more people are affected than we think, and that the symptom may be far less obvious than we would want to believe.

I Hate Christmas

So begins the horrible end of the year rant about how and why I hate the holidays. Firstly, because I am a musician, I have spent the better part of my life playing the crappiest Christmas carols known to man. Though "Fantasia for Christmas", may not fall into that category as easily as the rest, those days are far gone leaving me with no resolve for crappy Christmas music. Luckily this year, I have been excused from these activities.

A story about dice

I wonder if people who kill themselves do it because they feel as if they have made too many mistakes in there lives this far, and feel like there won't be enough time to make up for what is lost.I think that whenever life is left up to chance then that is the only logical way out things. Like a game of dice. While playing with my family earlier I felt discouragement to continue because I had already made poor decisions with what the dice gave me. I stopped playing without any intension, and gave up. There was know way to win, and I had surely lost.

But when the game was over, we all finished at the same time. We left the same as we entered.

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I wanted you to stay on the other side

It's one of those mornings, where I can't wait until five. I can't wait to sleep until my body just wakes up on it's own. There has been a series of dreams that have haunted me over the past few months. I had another one last night; however, by the time I wake, it has escaped me.

The act of explaining the details of a dream is damaging to the dream experience. As with any retelling, the storyteller must reduce the episode he experience to the a few sentences: leaving out details, forgetting small parts, or by using the completely wrong verbiage all together. All of these would distort the listeners perception of what actually happened in the dreams, but not only that, even myself would be left with broken perception--bound in the words just used to portray something that seems explainable.

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And so on to my random ramblings of the day.

It drives me absolutely crazy that we file the newest files in the front of the folder, rather than the back. I hate it so much, that I develop very harsh emotions for the people who've requested it as so; Harsh emotions equals hate.

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I think about him. I could sit and tell stories of what my emotions feel like right now, but it's as if I have no words to describe what was going on. It's all so clear, but so cloudy. I feel like I'm waiting for a more definitive time to really get it out. Could I be hoarding these emotions? Stuffing? I'm not really one to keep myself balled up on the inside, but I often wonder if my over zealousness towards expressing my inner self is actually at times more hindering than not. As if I'm kept in a cocoon of my own energy while the raging waters tare at the ground around me.

I'm glad the Holidays are here in a way. Since nameless; died, I knew that this was going to be a rough season, and as the end draws near I brace myself for even colder winds. I'm more anxious than scared, but aren't they just one in the same?

Everyone is at lunch right now, so I decided that I would take the time alone to spit out these words.

I'm more comfortable in this job than I really thought I would be.

I think it's really cool that Spotify has these embedding options. It's really easy to share stories this way. It keeps this space much more interactive than online blogging had ever been. I've been writing online for a long time. I think that's really how I began to type fast. It wasn't because I had typing classes; it was because I typed a lot while blogging. Back then--whenever I was in high school--I had a group of friends who actually read the words that I wrote down. As of now, I only know of a few people who actually read, and that's OK. It leaves me with the freedom in know that even if I did spit out every dirty detail of my life on here, not that many people read. Its the luxury of knowing that I keep myself open by keeping This Intangible Existence running.

I think that I'm often too laiden with my own Narcisism, but would a place like this be fit for something just like that.

This place is fit for whatever is fathomable on the internet.

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It's cold.The pressure came in last night, and held me for about an hour. A poi flexing I my head. Took a Cymbalta and then I got in bathtub. I laid in the warm water and picked my feet up out of the water. My feet were high about my heart.

It wasn't long until the pain went away; was it because the meds or was it because of the water ritual?

I have a fellowship with the darkness I'm addicted to men Speak of the prince.

But this morning I heard a word. And a call towards Second Corinthians.

Do these small moments of hearing The Lord indicate that he's still interested, and that I should repent immediately--which is easier than it seems--or, is it the brisk, "Come on, Come on!", that a friend would give another who was beginning to pass out after a severe blow?

I think it is both.

"Sights and sounds bring me back down another year. I was here" I could continue to spout the lyrics of Tori Amos, but for a reader--and more so for my conscious--I can recall a year ago, about this time. I spent these cold November days writing about something that I could bring words to. Something so horrible, something so sinister, that I can't take it from my mind.

And now a year later, I still have not the words to bring out the truth of what happened, or the depth of humanity that was endured.

I think it would be hard for anyone to understand.

I went to see nameless; family today. I wanted to talk to them about this non verbal horror, but they declined my offer. They new better than I that it wasn't the time. I'm ok with that.

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I'm sure It's some what pointless to continue on with naming every post that I decide to write about him after him. Today I woke up pretty late, and went to the store. I found him on my mind pretty hard. I read some text messages between he and I. It was nice, and kinda fun to pretend that they were actually current rather than from four months ago. I miss him this day. I don't know what kind of situation we would be in if he was still alive, so this is not a wish that he would have never done what he did; however, if it wouldn't have been as fatal maybe something would have given between he and I. There were other options to his problem.

to make a move to write again

To make a move to write again, is to make a move about writing down the things that matter. Back in 2010, whenever I started This Intangible Existence as a blog hosted on among the free domain space of the internet, I was actually in the early stages of creating something much bigger than that: the records that followed under that pseudonym.

One of the first entries that I wrote under my own domain was the ceremonial act of burning my books. At the time I was just listening to what God was telling me to do. Now I find my words pressed into the digital format; moving past the strokes of the pen, and into the realm of 0's and 1's.

The act of preserving my mind dialog is often questioned by myself. Is it necessary to actually log these words. Is it necessary to even let the content remain accounted for. The Father will throw away what is forgiven in the end, and let it burn away until all that remains is left to his desire.

In these past months of my life I wonder what I've done. My chest is heavy with my guilt, and my soul is burdened in ways that won't recede. A rut this could be; however, I believe this could be the bottom. I'm tired of the bottom.

I'm tired of being the bottom.

Even in the whims of an afternoon delight, I find myself feeling lost and unaccounted for.

So if I sing to the Lord, To repair my soul, It requires I die, Until the new leaves grow.

And let way for new budding grass, That in the fire it would not pass. So that by the end, my fruitless plane, Could bare the name of Jesus' name.

The power in the name is a concentration I've considered for my work, moving forward.  It's importance is of the utmost; for the Utmost High can not be denied any further. That the something-that-has-to-give should reveal itself shortly, and I could move forward with the only purpose my heart has truly known: to proclaim Jesus Saves; and to relieve myself of the oddity of the homosexual sin and lifestyle.

But what does that look like, and what does that really mean? Does that mean that I get married to a woman? Does that mean that I'm celibate? I know it doesn't mean that I should have sex with whoever I shall please, at any given time.

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Trotting C Lydian

A trotting C Lydian, and dressed in mauve tones - accented in a blue twilight forest of sticks and stones - caught in the path of the predicted ISON - for the God of Aaron and Moses.

As much as I think it is inappropriate for me to talk about such thing in a public place, it seems that I'm caught in my addictions worse than ever.

Over the last weekend, I settled (somewhat) some things with a lady friend of mine with who I was courting month prior to nameless; and myself became emotionally and physically involved. I basically left her hanging in the wind with what was to become of she and I. During that time nameless; and I became sexually involved, and I couldn't muster up enough courage to tell her what was going on. Basically I lied to her, and I found myself caught up in a love triangle that would mangle the majority of sanity.

Promiscuous is the word that would describe this. There have been seven people since nameless; died. My sexual addiction has left me powerless in my loss of my friend and lover. Sexually frustrated is a word that could fit well, but I believe it's something more sinister than just that. To say that I'm sexually frustrated seems like a cop out in my book. It would be easier if I could just rub one out, and that would be the end of it; however the hunger is deeper than self pleasure.

It's demonic in nature. I can't stop thinking about who I could coheres in to "coming over". I've even reached out to people with whom the extent of our conversation have never breached a "hello" or a like on Facebook.

Perhaps there was a freeing subconsciously, as if to settle with my lady friend would be the release I needed to become a complete whore in the matter of days.

Whatever it is something has got to give in all of this. There has to be a bottom, and I would choose not to fall crashing into it. With all that said; however, I believe that there is a hope and a reprieve. Something has to give, and that's what I'm waiting on. November seems like it has always been historically difficult for me mentally and emotionally. November was whenever me and nameless; became sexual last year. November is when I'm starting to see how much I've been affected by the blow that went through the neck of my forbidden lover.

I wish that he was here still. Not because I miss him, but because he filled the void for me. Last year I had a conversation with him about how I thought I was "falling apart". What I really meant was that I wanted him so bad that I was willing to do whatever it took: spells, love songs, or food. He stood in between me and all the other potential sexual partners I could have had over the course of 2012 and early 2013 before his death.

Somehow I feel like he protected me from that--he protected me from myself, and the destruction that I bring upon my body. That in itself is a heavy load for any one man to carry.

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