Deathly Hallows

Here I am, once again, on location at the Apple Store at West Towne. That's 'town' with an 'e', for those keeping score. Because towns without e's are not nearly as posh.

My wife and I went out to the book release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, and I refuse to apologize to any anti-geeks out there. We didn't dress up, but we did see a great number of folks who did (some of the costumes were pretty good). Oh, and for you folks who think that children are learning to do magic because they can't tell the difference between fiction and reality, we didn't see anybody pretending to do magic spells (even though there were a few 'wands'). We decided to eschew Borders for the lesser known, but much more pleasant, Carpe Librum, a locally owned and very quaint bookstore. I knew it was the place for me when I entered one day to browse, and ended up having wine, cheese, and a lovely chat with the proprietor in the back room.

So, I'm sure I will be the one-hundred-and-eleventieth person to say so, but you must read these books. If you feel that your children will never grow out of believing in Santa Claus, I'm sure some consternation would do well, but otherwise, I express no concern. They are a bit above the reading level of some of the kids who were at the bookstore. Kat and I theorized that this was the parents' cover to keep people from thinking that they were really the ones out for the book. Anyway, if nothing else draws you about the books (especially if you're a Christian), I think you will find it engaging that an underlying principle is that there is something unique and special about the ability to feel pity.

Alright, I've got my blindfold and my cigarette. Fire away, gendarmes, fire away.

Meeting the King

Elvis was at the bus stop. Or rather, it was a life-size action figure of Elvis (by the look of him), complete with all the cheap accoutrements that accompany action figures - blown up to ridiculous proportions, of course. This was the Elvis that haunted Market Square on weekday afternoons, wearing spandex representations of the King's wardrobe that did precious little in the way of what a garment should - namely, covering up the unsightly parts. He would plug in his karaoke tape player and vomit detuned Presley songs onto the innocent bystanders of Market Square, who were out merely for lunch or to buy a new shirt or a book, and who had little concept of the surprise bonus they would get from the crackpot impersonator.

I think it gave his life some sort of meaning. He never really got paid for his time - at least, by anyone with a brain stem. He had also grown out his hair so that he would have to wear a toupee. Nasty sideburns crawled down his face like some bizarre Saxon ivy, and he had piled his hair - with the liberal aid of Crisco, I think - on top of his head in a black pompadour fit to impress a weatherman. One had to admire him for his spunk (which was considerable), crooning and serenading every passerby (including myself) with "Only You" as his hips randomly gyrated, causing people to randomly return their lunch from whence it came. It was interesting that he didn't seem to mind people's habit of widely circumventing his act with heads down and whispered voices, as if Elvis Impersonation was a leprosy that might catch if not given sufficient berth. Still, I find some odd envy in his ability to see his profoundly abnormal activity as a necessary and effectual part of everyday life.

I suppose I'll miss something if he quits. The laughter, at least.

Surrogate Blogs

So, for a bit of interim reading, since you are sans the Quill at its fullest (you're deeply crushed, I know), here is an article by Hugh Ross that is lengthy and has heavily ontological overtones. I didn't read it all in one sitting either. The library limits me to one hour on their computers.

The Physics of Sin

Enjoy. Don't fall asleep.

We're In...

Here's the skinny.

I'm blogging from a terminal at Lawson-McGee Library in downtown Knoxville. A strictly utilitarian internet connection seems to be the order of the day here, so this will be short if it happens at all. The glad news is, we're in. I'll put up some photos of the new place as soon as possible. It was an immeasurable blessing when 11 people from our church showed up to help move. That's about a quarter of our church, if anyone's keeping score. I was grateful to see the Bride work like she should.

Yesterday was July the Fourth. I was a bit disconcerted driving home on a barren interstate and watching the city bubble in apoplectic fashion with magnesium flares lit by folks in various states of intoxication, especially given the drought situation throughout the Southeast. Ah, well. We can't win them all.

More to come.

He open the door with his master key, and set a package down on the empty counter for the new arrivals. They had an awful lot of books, but perhaps there was hope yet...