Churches, Pubs & Hostels

New Blog

2006-05-13T18:59:00.000-07:00

Hey friends,

A new, regular blog has been set-up over at http://sharoute.wordpress.com

Hope to see you all over there!

Post Script

2006-03-23T22:46:00.000-08:00

A little over two years ago I sat down on the concrete steps of a little corner church a bit before 10am, on a Sunday. I took out my red spiral notebook and my pen and begun writing, starting for the first time a serious journal. I was still a bit tired from the Heineken and smoke consumed the night before, but I felt otherwise very alive, very different, very apart of the city and the people that were surrounding me for that week by the shore.

Back home, my friend Brandon was busy editing the first of many "final drafts" of "Coffee House Christianity," a book I had spent the better part of the year previous writing. Those notes in the red notebook would later be expanded on when sitting on the balcony or in the lobby of the youth hostel, listening to Linkin Park playing on the radio and enjoying the ocean breeze. I kept writing on the bench where the waves meet the shore on the pier, and inside the Burger King next to Jack's Surfboards when it was too cold. I also wrote in the Shorehouse Pub, and in the Longboard Pub, an old establishment where Hemingway would write in his final years and where a young Robin Williams would perfect his comedy routine.

Many of those writings became part of the final chapter of "Coffee House Christianity," later retitled "Churches, Pubs & Hostels." The rest became the first entires for a blog titled the same, this blog that you are reading now.

Earlier tonight, I was sitting reading over the last two years of entries on this blog, and am amazed quite frankly at the level of depression I displayed, the level of yearning and anger, the level of emotion and even at times raw honesty -- such things that for one reason or another, I would never feel comfortable writing about on here again. I wrote about being so angry that I feel I could tear down a complete house with my bare hands, and it pains to remember that feeling, though I know alot of people could relate. I wrote about stuggles with purity, struggles with gay porn, -- and I hid in the closet the good first year or so of this writing, until everything just broke and I had to get out there what I needed to share.

I got many criticisms, but I also got alot of love, both from good close friends and even from people I have never met. You all will never have any idea how much I appreciated and needed that comfort, love, and support, in that desperate hour.

You all saw first hand how I hated God yet loved him passionately at the same time; and how I cried out for someone just to fucking love and hold but then turned around and relished in the quiet moments of being alone, being myself.

You all were with me through my struggle with church and pastors, and the often very vocal criticism of both, and then the humility that came with the loving of people again. When I think back to the spiritual dynamic of these last two years, I am amazed, stressed, and then relieved. Writing -- this blog -- was a huge outlet for all of that, and many of you read, commented, supported, prayed, offered a word, called, emailed, or instant messaged. From the deepest regions of my heart, thank you for that, and thank you for allowing me a place to vent openly and honestly about everything that has happened.

Through this whole time, you have all followed the progress, slumps, renewels, and visions of Monsuun Ministries Inc and Project Forever. You have watched the book go from again and again revised manuscript to finished publication that is available through an artists collective that has been born out of visions and ideas written about on this blog.

This last summer, you all were with me as I ventured out yet again and spent two weeks traveling through Orange County, San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle. I remember blogging from my Uncle Bill's house and Ryan LaRue's apartment in Portland, writing about how much the lyrics of Blindside's "About A Burning Fire" were speaking to me; and in San Fransisco about how much Jimmy Eat World and Death Cab For Cutie's music accompanied me throughout long drives up and down I-5, Highway 101, and PCH.

Most recently, you have all been with me through my move to Tempe, near Sky Harbor, to a new house where you could see the airplanes. You have been with me as I came to terms with my sexuality and my faith. You have grieved with me at the sudden passing of my dear Uncle Jim. You understood and felt heart beats merge when I wrote about the end of the Hostel, and then a return to a Huntington Beach I no longer recognize.

Now, the future holds so many more things, so many more things to write about and be excited about. There is more about Project Forever, there is the Israel trip coming up in less then four weeks, and there is the move to Seattle. There is so much much much more.

But, the time has come when I am entering away from a very dramatic, very intense, very meaningful two-year period, of which I have grown into a new person; holding memories of a time period that will forever shape who I am.

The last part of that Huntington Beach journal, and therefore the last paragraph of the book, said that I had to put everything behind, but live on in the memories while searching for something new. In that paragraph set on the end of the pier, I ended with putting on my back pack, taking one last breath of deep ocean air, and walking back towards the city lights.. I ended my last entry with taking another deep breath of ocean air and walking away from the city lights ... to ... somewhere.

I feel that it is no coincidence that a significant time of my life is coming to heavy resolution and heavy change -- all with a interesting and challenging future -- at the same time that a place that has meant so much to me has now been lost. H.B., as I have known it and as I have called it a metrophorical and physical home to my feelings and emotions and thoughts of the last two years, is gone, as is this time period of learning and growing in these particular ways.

With that, I feel it only symbolically and emotionally appropriate to end this blog here. I could cite all of my side reasons -- details about the fact that I have just let too much out personally and wish to curb everyone's access to my life, for awhile at least. That I am tired of getting into conversations / debates which I post on here. But in reality, it is time. I am a writer, and I will never stop writing (more on that in a second), but having such a deeply open forum for so long, and long-enduring the consequences of it, I have but two options: 1) Keep the blog going, as I have the majority of the last month or so -- and not write anything really personal on it -- but just give updates on Project Forever, big news, etc, or 2) Let it serve as a solid and intregal piece of my personal life that I have shared with others, and keep the integrity of that time period and that honesty intact, without watering it down from this point forth.

I have chose option 2, obviously. There are some places where I will still write personal things, but I am done with that here. The real life stress and nosyness it is creating is too much, and again, this time period of my life has come to a close, and so this blog shall as well.

Again, thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, emailed, etc with positive notes. I have met some amazing people on here, and kept in contact with even more -- and I love all of you I have interacted positively with. If you are interested, email me and I will keep you up to date on when I set up a permanent blog again, just know it won't be as personal as the last two years on this one. I have never expected to meet so many friends through this, and alot of you have made my life richer. I do not mean to leave you behind, just please understand.

Also, from a good chunk of email and comments I get from annonymous and sometimes not so annonymous people, I know some who read this struggle with the issue of homosexuality, rather Christian or not. Somewhere, you found some hope and encouragement, and I want to continue providing that for you, and the reassurance that Christ does love you and does care for you, despite what many of His "followers" would like you to believe. I have a specific blog I use to write about this issue, so again email me if you would like the link. Again, I am not putting it out there because there are just some people that I am not comfortable with reading about such issues. Let's keep it in the family.

Finally, I do continue to blog about my upcoming Israel trip, and will be writing a good deal about it when I am there and when I get back. That blog, if you would like, is http://www.xanga.com/overisraeliskies Feel free to subscribe. It is a tempoary blog, but I should be posting on there about when/where I will be blogging at next.

Finally, thank you again to all of you who have made this a positive experience and allowed me to work through all I needed to work through. Though it's only a blog, we are all real people, and your affection and love will always be appreciated. It was a privilage being apart of your life.

Much love to you all,

Jeff Nash

Afterword

2006-03-15T21:39:00.000-08:00

I rolled the window down further and stuck my arm out of the passenger's side window, cupping in the cold ocean breeze that was blowing off of the mid-March Pacific. We came to a stop at the red light on Pacific Coast Highway and Main Street, and looked right down Main and left down the Pier and a lone car pulled up next to us with pounding rap that triumphed Prayer Chain until Tim turned the volume up. But still, Huntington was silent tonight.

The light turned red and we were again alone north from south, and after we passed Jack's, the old buildings that were some of the last remnants of pre-millenium Huntington had been cleared and a new green wall stood in their place extending all the way down to Fifth Street, triumphing the arrival of a new beach-front shopping development in 2007. The people who cheer this do not understand Huntington; I was hoping that I could somehow keep this beach from the wolves and cone-lickers and keep feeding them chunks of Newport and Laguna until their bellies are full from their own selfishness and lack of heart. But, no.

At Fifth stood Java Jungle, spared from being taken over by imminent domain by no more then eight feet. "Here it is, turn here." I don't tell Tim where we're going but it is silent that he understands. We are driving to the place I call home more then my home. The houses on each side are a mixture of old two-room bungalows and new multi-million dollar condos, and the street looks worn. The power lines here are still exposed and you car still shakes when you drive over the manholes. It is dark.

We pass Orange Street. "We're close, it'll be on the left." Soon enough, just before Olive, the Colonial Inn Youth Hostel looms large and dark over our car, almost imposing in its size and proximity to the dark street compared to the homes around it, and the balcony prounces out over the porch below almost coming to a hover above Fifth. Tim looks at it, "I recognized it even before you said anything." He makes a u-turn and we park in front of the porch. The old yellow surfboard with the sign still hangs from the balcony. I get out of the car and walk over to the for sale sign to take a brochere for love's sake, but they are empty. I look straight up. It is running at less then half capacity since the fire, and half the rooms are dark.

"I spent alot of time on that balcony." I look up there and concentrate, and can still see the wetsuits and towels hanging from there, and can still see Tom, Ryan, and myself taking long, drawn out puffs from Ryan's hand-carved wooden pipe from Sweden, taking in lung-fulls at once, after having returned from endless games of pool and pints of Heineken at the Shorehouse Pub down the street. That pipe was later stolen by a youthful photographer from France, and he also stole my shampoo. In following conversations, the Swedes and I never spoke highly of him again.

Tim and I light up a clove and walk down Olive, still littered with crunchy leafs, cold winds, and out-of-place pieces of broken sidewalks. It took me a few minutes to get myself oriented again, but on we were. A few blocks on and we reach a cul-de-sac blocked in by new development, concrete pylons, and a grassy field. Walking across the grass there stands the Shorehouse, and the market across the street that is owned by the Japanese man who loved that he got to speak to the international travelers everyday.

We walk the steps up to Shorehouse, and I forgot to remind Tim that usually a night does not pass by here when a fight doesn't break out, and an angry man in a black outfit just stands there and stares me down while I order from the kind but forceful lady behind the coutner. You can tell that she is sometimes "mom" to these boys. I order a pitcher of Heineken. "I'm sorry love, we stopped carrying that." I guess you wouldn't understand unless you heard how I bragged about the Shorehouse's Heineken on draft to all my friends and let them know it was the best Heineken around. I guess you wouldn't understand unless you knew that was the beer of choice for the hostellers and travelers and it was the core backdrop to all our conversations. Instead, we got Fat Tire. We sat there and talked at a table near the one I used to sit at, and Tim kindly listened as I reminisced a long while about the Huntington Beach that is no more.

But at least there is still Java Jungle, its coffee and ocean view tables framed in many of my writings and also in any story retold by Mark Soloman of his own life. Later, we got out of the car and listened as the waves of the Pacific grew louder and more fierce, and then walked past two gruff men standing outside the coffee shop to get inside. Java Jungle has always been half surf shop, half coffee shop, but now there was t-shirts over the bakery case and surfboards stacked where the espresso machine and syrups once were. One of the men walks back in. "You fellows looking for the coffee shop?" I turn around. "Yes." He responds, "Don't have it no more, sorry guys." I take one last look around before the Jungle is probably torn down too, and look at Tim. "What was that saying about you can't go home again?"

I take one last look at what used to be, and take a deep breath full of ocean air. It's been two years of stories, but I know now, I have to leave my hostel, my international friends here, my coffee shop, my special pub, and my Huntington Beach behind. But it, too, lives on in the friendships and ideals founded here and that continue on, and will continue on, even into Seattle. My life was forever changed here, and while the places are gone and everything has and will change and the city is no longer my escape and no longer knows me in turn, alot was learned here and for that I will always be thankful. With that, I put my jacket back on, turn around, and walk away from the city lights.

Excerpt from Unwritten, by Author Unknown

2006-03-06T20:26:00.000-08:00

“What is it like to write your stories? Tell me.”

“I can only equivalent it to being your first love, to it being, ultimately, the act of sex, that exists sacredly inside your own body, your own mind. It makes you asexual in nature and force-feeds you its craving until you have no other choice but to give in to its desires. It is a temptress, and it owns you, but you have married it by no choice of you own; for it was an arranged marriage.”

“Arranged by whom?”

“By God.”

“How is it like a first love?”

“It is the love that you have always known was your own, that you were always meant for and you for it. It is the craft that you first set your eyes upon, and, when everything else in your life turns black, or bleak, it is her that you return yourself to. You express yourself to this love, this craft, in times of joy and despair, in sickness and in health, as it slowly is your only lifelong companion. It is also the one whom you are most unfaithful to. But it has always been faithful to you, though she has had many other husbands, many other men before you whom she lead her way. You are unfaithful to her when you commit your desires and times elsewhere, or you let the interest of the moment, even the companion human of the moment, sit in her seat and give you her interest. But she is there, always faithful. She is there, waiting. She understands your misunderstanding heart, as hers is greater.”

“If the act of writing is like that of a sexual encounter, is it of love or lust?”

“It is of both. She tempts you by your knowledge of her in love and your sudden desire for her in lust. The writer will sit waiting, gaining ideas and momentum and desire to express it through the pen for days at a time, a longing building in his loins to to get it out on paper and into the world, or out of his heart. He then is subdued, distracted by other things of this world for only a moment before he is aroused again, his heart beating heavily with every glimmer of beauty he sees, with every soft sentence spoke.

“And the lust is satisfied, and it becomes slow and the words churn out in rhythm, having found a pace between the two of them that is uniquely their own, and that no man can separate. And that, sir, is when the hectic pace of lustful love in the heart of a writer turns into a sweet romance; a sweet romance that whispers a symphony in beat.”

A Word On Truth, Part II

2006-02-21T18:08:00.000-08:00

I cannot be told by another Christian that this is something that I "chose," or along those lines. Why the hell would anyone choose to live a life that is so lonesome and leads to nothing but degrading remarks from most others?

I can also not be told that I need to "pray more" or "become closer to God." Those who say such things have no idea how much time I spent on my knees, those nights spent crying and begging God to take this away, or those nights spent out in the desert just screaming at God at the top of my lungs for failing to completely make me into this "new creation" that several of my brothers and sisters in Christ promised me. No matter how much we pray or how much we read Scripture or how intimately we try to commune with God, we will never on this earth come close to the level of intimacy with God that Adam had in the Garden with God. God and Adam were there, together, talking face to face and sharing time. Even in that closest intimacy with God that any man has ever experienced, God still said, "It is not good for man to be alone." God recognized this need for companionship, for relationship, and held Adam, His creation, in his heart when he created a partner, Eve, for him to be with. This was the natural order of things, and I do believe that heterosexual relationships are the only intended natural order of things. However, sin did enter this world shortly thereafter, and I believe that sin has become so entrenched in the very fabric of human existance that it does cause some people to be born with a different agenda, a different orientation that is woven into their fabric.

I am one of those people.

I cannot turn from it. Yes, I have heard stories and heard testimonies of how people have been turned from homosexuality by God's grace. I do believe that that miraculous redemption from sin was part of God's plan for some, but not for everyone. I do believe if God had intended to remove homosexuality from my life that he would have done it by now. But now I do believe that God has allowed it to remain, to be a reminder to me of how much I need him and to use as a reminder of how I can help others. As a Christian homosexual, I think God has called me to a particular ministry and service that some people will not understand.

I do not expect them to. It is not for them.

Still, I know there are people who will look at this just now and tell me it is because of my lack of faith that I am not "healed." They will say I put God in a box, or I put a time limit on God's work. Oh anything but, my Brothers and Sisters. I am confident that God can and will use this in ways that even the most visionary of you cannot and willnot imagine. And if it is because of a lack of faith, then I must tell you that, according to Scripture, that is not for you to judge, not even on the sidelines, disguised as duitful discernment. If one of you is to claim the gift of prophecy and tell me that God will save me from this hideous sin, do so fully aware that God's judgement may fall on you if your words prove in error. No, if it is an issue of lack of faith then that is something that I will personally be faced by God about, and which I will be very, very, sorry for. But no less, I do have redemption in Christ, even if Christ Himself someday points out to me how things could have been different, had I prayed so intensely just a little bit longer. But even in all that, in all that lack of faith that you presume, how then does that justify you, the Church, in your lack of love? Are you not called to love the least of these? Where will my relationship with Christ come to your defense when Christ asked you why you withdrew His love from the people whom you were surrounded?

I do not know if the way my life is going is correct. But I have to move, and decide what this all means and continue moving, lest I let Satan wrap my life around his finger even tighter by doing nothing but contemplating theology and interpetation of Scripture for the rest of my life.

I would be of no service to anyone.

And it is of a life of service I am called to, not to a life of judgeing others. Perhaps the homosexual could put his life to better use then the Pharisee.

A Word On Truth

2006-02-20T00:37:00.000-08:00

As a writer, a writer who writes non-fiction but does interject storytelling in places to help paint the larger picture, I found this article by Donald Miller quite amazing. The article is based off of the whole James Frey / Oprah incident, and explains in great detail, where storytelling properly fits in to non-fiction writing. Miller gives Frey no excuse for the extent of his lies, of course, but does use his own book, "Blue Like Jazz," as well as David Sedaris' non-fiction essays as great examples.

Thanks to Zach Lind for the link.

PF Zine Deadline

2006-02-05T23:41:00.000-08:00

We at projectforever (www.projectforever.com) need any and all contributing writers / black-and-white artists to turn in their submissions for the first edition of the zine by this Wednesday evening.

If you have photography, in color, you wish to showcase at projectforever (but not in the zine) we now have a new way to do that, too, thanks to a partnership established with the son of the landlord whose house I live in; a son whose wife is my traveling partner to Israel this upcoming April. The names involved here, respectively, are David, Dick, and Jamie. Dick's other son / David's brother, John, is playing guitar in our living room right now. We are a house of four twentysomethings. It is from this house and from a street in Seattle that the zine will emerge, which you need to participate in, maybe while listening to Johnny Cash and The Postal Service on vinyle, as we in Phoenix are doing now.

Email projectforever@gmail.com if you want to show your photographs.

Wednesday evening.

That's over 48 grand hours for you to be apart of the resurection of the artistic soul.

Email us your submissions at projectforever@gmail.com

Along with your submissions, write a one or two-sentence bio about yourself. Yes, you may include your website on your bio. You may not include a personal ad, with sexual preference, and a phone number.

You just can't.

Remember the theme is "Winter."

Let's Go

2006-02-04T13:20:00.000-08:00

The conversations have gone on long enough, for us at least. And we are faced with the choice to decide what all this has meant and proceed, move in an act of faith, or keep talking and die to our morals. I am excited about deciding what something means and then going off of that; I am excited for what can be accomplished from going forward. Labels and catagories, movements that have become stagnent, has served a great purpose in getting us all to stop and take notice of something, and getting us all talking again.

But that benefit has ceased.

Let's go.

Let's pick it up at some point and walk in faith, rather then just talking about faith.

Let's see what all this has meant, if anything.

There is resistance. I have found myself in several deep conversations the last few days, having to explain and defend us -- in the very least defend the fact that I am making deffinite statements now instead of wandering statements. Satan wants to grab hold and keep us stagnant, but we will break these chains. It's hard to leave a conversation. It's hard to tell people that it's time to leave it, too. But we have collectively become a stagnent faith; creating our flacid Emerging Subculture within the Christian Subculture; all the while criticising the larger subculture for being too withdrawn from the world.

We have now been too withdrawn from the world. We have now been too withdrawn from our Brothers and Sisters in Christ. This is not what was intended. This is not what was supposed to happen.

So let's change.

Let's go.

Escape from Pearson

2006-01-29T13:37:00.000-08:00

As I have posted on a couple other blogs, I am reading about the life of Dutch Catholic Priest Henri Nouwen. About a year ago, I had read The Road to Daybreak: A Spiritual Journey, which is Nouwen's journal accounts of his time at the La'Arch Daybreak Community in Toronto. My traveling partner, Jamie, loaned me this book and I subsequently stole the copy. I opened it back up tonight and read some of the brief descriptions of Nouwen's visits to Toronto proper.

Toronto is where our flight to Tel Aviv will make its one layover, and I was previously unexcited about exchanging the four-hour Toronto layover for the twelve-hour London layover when it became neccessary for our trip requirements (ok, I'm still not that excited about the exhange...)

However, I hope to at least escape from Pearson International long enough to have a cup of coffee in the city, and walks its sidewalks for a couple minutes. If we had longer, I would like to have been able to visit Nouwen's grave. I'm not usually one for that type of visit, but I feel I learned alot from him and that it would be proper to pay my respects. There is a small room, however, in Rotterdam that is dedicated to his work and travels.

In short, I am going to attempt to convince Jamie to take a two-day jaunt over to The Netherlands. It would't be that hard. We're already over there ....

Open Letter

2006-01-22T01:00:00.000-08:00

An Open Letter To Friends & Strangers:

I'm not quite sure how to dwelve into all of what I'm thinking so I'll just start it here. I feel like God is in the process of reawakening my spirit, my heart, but to say that would imply that it's been dead or in slumber for quite some time, and that is not the case. It has been steady .... but in the sense that the heart for God merely beats, keeping up with the required rhythm of life and nothing more. Oneself is merely nurtured by the beating heart and nothing more; it is not excerted in excercise nor given rest nor given care.

I have written several blog posts this last week that I have kept private because I was not sure how to fully articulate what was happening at the moment.

I think this last week I have been as hopeful and full as I ever have and as empty and drained as I have ever been.

Some very encouraging and exciting things have happened this last week personally. Some would say some were secular and some were sacred, or tempoary or eternal. I will dare to say that they are all things that have been guided by prayer.

Several friends of mine spent the weekend on relaxing holiday up in northern Arizona, and I was invited to join them but declined. Part of the reason was my shortage of funds this pay period because of my Israel ticket purchase, part of it was a pull, I felt, by God to stay here and just be quiet in the city this weekend. I always look at mountain holidays as a great time to "reconnect" with God and my own wandering soul, but felt pulled to stay in the city. I did, knowing God can and will work as well here in my home, in between the noise of the University down the road, the large party street I live on, and the airport a few miles away.

In short, the weekend was filled with amazing and fun moments, and humbling moments. My friend Arica called me up to hang out for a bit and we spent some good time talking about life and about God. The cashier at Modified Arts asked me if I was the same Jeff Nash who wrote the book he just ordered, and we were able to talk there. Good conversation with new and old friends while sitting on a dirty curb on the corner of Roosevelt & 7th. Honest and real conversation at Starbucks with a friend of mine who was passing through town. I wrote alot. Dave and I discussed the plans more in detail for the future of Project Forever, and we nailed some things down. I felt privilged and lucky to be in all these circumstances, but then there was more...

...There were the quiet moments, hours upon hours of being alone, when I didn't feel lonely or depressed or abandoned, but quite content. Content in the friendships God has blessed me with, no, joyful in those friendships. Prayer and Bible reading, seeking direction and guidance as I am foolish enough to try to make plans into my own future but so desperately trying to peer into where God wants me ... and attempting to jump by faith into that by just going and seeing what happens. A jump that, if God keeps open all the doors that are now standing open, will take me into the depths of the Holy Land, back to Phoenix for a short time and then into a house with good friends not far from Puget Sound. And all this is scary and exciting, so much change and so much risk, and I can't tell you how important prayer is and how important God is, with all of this.

And I read books on these people's history all the while, and I read about the perspectives of God that Islamics, Jews, and Christians have and how it comes all from this tiny corner of the earth of a reborn nation ... and it overwhelms me and I know I'll really never have any grasp of it, but, all the while, I feel privilged and humbled to be able to go and experience it with two very good friends.

So this is all swimming around in my life and I wander at it all, and then come Monday night I hear deffening news that a friend has passed. I must say that I was not privilged enough to have spent enough time with him to know the intricities of his life, although I would have liked to. But in reality you can't sincerely know everyone, and fortunately some friendships work out where such an intimacy is possible and others do not. So while I can say I regret not knowing him better, I cannot say that would have changed in a year's time anyway. But we have talked, several times over the course of several years. And I have prayer for him deeply and he has for me, and in that there is a connection that goes beyond mere words. In one aspect, I am happy for my friend and jealous of him almost at the same time -- being with God and experiencing Him first hand. On the other note there is a deep sense of loss and sadness, and I know that loss and sadness spreads to so many more hearts.

The work week began on Tuesday, mere hours after this roller-coaster weekend. I plowed into it with several days of 12-13 hour shifts, coming home and writing, then working on Project Forever details, then barely sleeping and repeat, repeat. I was fine and into all-gears when my good friend Randy and I met for lunch at my job on Wednesday. We discussed life and its blessings and its renewed essence.

Then late this week, I completely crashed. Not kidding, within one hour, I do think everything, the work, lack of sleep, stress, and sadness crept in at once, and I went from all-gears to barely able to speak a coherant sentence. My thoughts were rambling, any attempt at work was useless because I was in a haze. I have never had this experience this fast before, and recall only feeling this way when I was in my deepest bouts of depression. I couldn't leave on sick time because then my overtime for that week would have been invalid, so I stayed and sat at my desk, barely upright. My skin was literally sore to the touch.

At 5pm I drove home (stupid idea), but got there and my roommate Sean asked me what was wrong the moment he saw me. I recall eating crackers to get some food in my stomach, but the whole conversation feels like it took place in a dream. I layed down in my bed feeling as mentally, spiritually, and physically drained as I ever had, and passed out. I woke up 13 hours later, went to work, came back, and slept another 11. Now, I feel together and complete again.

Tonight I had a drink with my friend Randy, the guy I ate lunch with on Wednesday. He picked up our conversation from that lunch, and everything about this last weekend seemed like it happened weeks ago. I read blog posts on some other sites that I don't remember writing, but I know I did. Thanks to Randy, my mind began coming back around tonight to the place I was at on Wednesday (in a good way). I was reminded of the good points of the weekend, of the gifts God has given me in friendships and conversation, of who God is and what He wills. More so, I was reminded truly that this life, this world, I'm not in it for myself. If that was the case, I would have left the game awhile back. I'm am one of God's beloved, and that He is not here to protect me, but I am here to be used by Him.

That is what I think He is trying to get through in conversations, in what I read in the Bible, in what I read in "Velvet Elvis," through friendships, through writings. I was reminded, beat over the head, time and time again, that there is something more then me going on here. That there is more to life then the job at work and busying myself. There is more to my faith then inner struggles. There is just, in simple words, more going on here then we can see.

I thank God for stopping me in my tracks late this week and making me see that, again.

New Zine - Project Forever

2006-01-14T23:11:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone!

As part of Project Forever (myspace.com/projectforever) a new print zine is being launch this next month in a collaborative effort to spread the love and the power of the written word amongst the people.

The production of this zine is a collaboration between myself and my friend Dave Hart of Seattle, Wa. The two of us are busy writing and preparing, relentlessly starving ourselves out in the cold with little to no company except hot coffee and a typewriter, all in an effort to capture the true essence of winter. That's right, winter. The theme of our first quarterly zine will be that of "Winter," but in the spirit of Project Forever to unify artists, we are seeking submissions from you, as well.

The theme of "Winter" is the only boundary. We will accept fiction, non-fiction, poetry, humor, serious, written word emo, whatever. But please do mind your spelling and grammer and ability to write, as a submission does not guarentee a publication.

Please spread the word and know we would love to have you contribute a piece of your voice to this project. The deadline is set Feb. 3rd, but can be extended just a bit if you really need the extra time.

Please send an email to myself at jeff.nash@gmail.com or to Dave Hart at openonsundays@hotmail.com and include your story as an attachment.

If you must snail mail please contact one of us first via email to determine rather or not we want to distribute our physical address.

Look forward to hearing from each and every one of you.

Passage

2006-01-13T22:23:00.000-08:00

Stop and hear the sweet stillness, the sweet silence, of nothing but a peaceful blanket over the noise of everything. Christ I pray to stop the noise and the demons, to stop the self-hate and begin love for others. It is coming but oh is it slow in coming and slow in processing this heart of mine I don't know if it wants to beat or if it wants to stand in reverant silence.

I have committed a decision to God but when the decision came I questioned if it was from God. Man of little faith I am. Tonight I will weep and cry and turn inside out and long for those simpler moments that are always within memories reach but never in my arm's grasp -- does God want us to tremember those simpler moments? Oh tonight I will close my eyes and pass out from being over-fed with an over-abudnent supply of friendship, grace, and love, but still it does not satisfy; rarely do these things here on earth satisfy anymore except for your sweet arms, your sweet love and grace. Should I ask for safety or live in ignorance, the choice being one that I want You to lead the way too.

I long to bow down before you on the Mount in your homeland Jesus; I yearn to stand in that Upper Room and to sit on the hillside where your death took place -- to be there to see and feel and to cry. Grant us passage over Israeli skies my Lord, and grant us something bigger then the short-sighted inner-loathing that we feel now.

Districts

2006-01-07T22:34:00.000-08:00

The sky was barely its deep morning blue when I pulled my aging car off the Interstate 10 this morning, the whole scene illuminated by the outline of South Mountain as I drove through the warehouse district of downtown Phoenix, and clocked into work at the University at 6:45am. I was only required to stay until 11 this morning, but I stayed a bit past noon, helping to clean up two teams and trying to sort out my newly aqcuired 600 students in addition to my core 300.

The cubes nearby were empty, so I used the time to play some Pedro the Lion, pausing it only for a coffee or smoke break, taking four or five of each.

Early afternoon back home in the Ash Neighborhood (as the papers call it) sleep comes easily and then goes easily when awakened by my roommate, who is requesting confirmation of my move so a new friend of his can move in. I tell him I'll know more Monday, as that is when I have the final meeting with my main boss, the boss who glared at me this morning when I said "Good morning."

I am buying my ticket, paying it all, for my trip overseas, to a land where nearly every other American warns me not to go. They say the Middle East is dangerous, and Israel will be nothing more then a post-election, post-Sharon war zone between Israelies and Palastenians by the time I get there. I tell them I am going anyway. The cost of the ticket is leaving me completely broke for this month and a half, but I take comfort in the fact that i have a bus pass, enough money for peanut butter and jelly, and enough books to read. So my plane flys out in mid-April for Tel Aviv and I will arrive back in Phoenix in early May, planning to quit my job just before then and to move to the Pacific Northwest immediately after.

By that time a second book will be finished and my stuff will all be packed, so if the Americans are right and I fall victim to local conflicts, I guess my time here and its memories will not be of burden to most. They will smoke cigarettes and buy second books, and drink brandy.

All is well with the night being over, and a flip of the television stations land me on an hour-long retrospective special of the past 35 years of the Crystal Cathedral. I watch the entire show, and I see myself on TBN programming at least twice, once as a Roman solider for a play and the second as a late-80's Orange County youth clad in blue and on stage, singing in the Cathedral Boys Choir.

Now it's all deserts and Seattle, and I am content where I am. But nonetheless, it is a bit disconcerting that I can flip a channel and be taken so rapidly to the past. As much as you try not to, it makes you think of what could have been.

Pray.

Love & Peace

2006-01-02T23:32:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year to everyone. I'm personally glad to see a new year here, not that it really means much of anything I suppose, other then being a time to reflect and place bookends on events that unfolded. It's our way of measuring time.

If you'll allow me a bit over a recap, this last year both personally and globally: the Asian Tsunami hit (technically '04 but we didn't know the real effects of it until the first few days of 2005), Pope John Paul II passed; my family discovered my sexuality struggle and that led to long talks, arguments, tears and some kind of resolution I guess...that's still being worked out; Jewish settlers were forced out of their settlements to give land to the Palestenians; the war continued; bird flue broke out; the London Underground was bombed at King's Cross and a double-decker bus was also bombed; my good friend David left for a long trip; Brandon moved back to the East Valley; I finally moved out of my parent's place into Tempe; Project Forever got started; I left for a three-week road trip to Orange County, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, and Vancover; celebrated the 4th of July at a youth hostel in San Francisco with Belginers and Londoners and partaked in a late-night conversation that Independence Day between an Jewish Israeli student and a Islamic Palestinian student in our dorm (and peace was found); said goodbye to Vaughan and Mandy at a bonfire in Gilbert; stood shocked in front of the television as Hurricanes Katrina and Rita ripped America apart and earthquakes took the lives of thousands in Asia; started school full-time finally; released my first book and started on the second and third, and made the personal decision to move to Seattle this spring.

I probably missed a couple things in there.

So on the first day of the year I spent time with friends, drank alot of coffee (I had a slight headache I recall), and viewed the film "Munich." Incredible film that showed the people on both sides of the Israeli athlete kidnapping that took place by the Black September terror group at the Olympics in Munich, West Germany.

We can never know for certain what the next year holds for us of course, but we always make plans. I want to write more, I want to love life and appreciate life more. I want to know God more. I want to see what Christ saw when He was walking this earth. In mid April, a friend and I will be boarding a plane for Tel Aviv, and we'll spend eight days exploring Israel, this Holy Land that some view with such hate that it drives them to terrorize others both within the Jewish State and globally and others view with all the love and promise of a prophetic fig tree. I am reading and I am reading so much on its history, its people, its demise and rebirth, the Jewish struggle with Hitler and the struggles that Palestenians have with the place to this day .... and with all this reading and knowing and praying to God for understanding, I'll but have a brief, ever-so-slight glimpse of the place that holds so much, a region that is as old as human time has ever been.

And maybe in that will be prayer, and maybe in that will be understanding and compassion for people increased, and maybe I can share that with others -- and maybe we can continue to have love, despite what this world may throw at us this next year and these upcoming years. We can continue to have love.

"Churches, Pubs & Hostels" Now Available

2005-12-18T01:25:00.000-08:00

**The link is fixed!** 12/31

That's right, "Churches, Pubs & Hostels" is now available from Project Forever Artists Collective ....

It is $12.00 and is available by clicking here. The 105-page printed book will then be on its way to your house. It will still be several weeks before you can order it from your local Barnes & Noble or Borders, but you can order it now online via Project Forever. So the wait is over! :)

Much love to you all,

Jeff Nash

The Winter, Part III

2005-12-17T14:51:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure if I woke up because of the cold or because of the noise, the continual pounding of a sledgehammer into a wall clear across the house to begin a renovation that the landlord hopes will increase the resell value of the place someday. With each hammer strike the walls rattle all the way down to my room and the doors jiggle just a bit but violently, making it sound as if someone is trying, shaking the knob, from the other side.

I pull the covers back up and adjust my head so it lays a bit better on the pillow, but I am awake now and cold. The heater doesn't quite reach my room, even though it seems to work properly everywhere else in the house and my vent is open. On nights when it dips below freezing my room hovers at about 50 degrees, but I usually only feel the cold real bad when I step out of my bathroom after a hot shower.

A few hours later I cross Mill Avenue and wait for the bus; Sam is not here this morning. On Saturdays we talk here on the bench about his progress at his half-way house, but he is not here, maybe running early or late. I hope he is doing well. The bus drops me off between a mosque and a football stadium, and I walk inbetween bars, pizza restaurants, and coffee shops down to the College Store to buy a pack of Camel Exotics, and I ask the lady at the counter where the travel agent is that used to be around here, but now I can't find. She asks me where I want to go and I tell her about Israel, and she tells me of her experiences two years ago in Haifa. She is a member of the Bahai World Faith, and went there to visit the temple.

I walk down an alleyway towards a newspaper stand to look for a magazine, and I see scribbled on the wall a warning of Jesus' return, that we better love the unrighteous and not think of ourselves as one of the righteous. Comments are written below by others, and I have a black marker where I add my own comment in reference to the first, quoting Simon & Garfunkel that the "words of the prophets are written on the subway walls."

Rounding the corner back towards the internet cafe that is my destination, a young man asks me if I have a few moments for human rights. I take out my earphones, silencing the spoken words of Aaron, and Chris talks to me about the Religious Right and their struggle to eradicate laws for homosexuals. He asks me if I am familiar with these people, and he begins quoting James Dobson, a quote I have heard before. I sign a petition and we talk for awhile, and he begins speaking highly of Jesus but low of the righteous, and I learn he words for a non-profit full time. I tell him about a non-profit I work with and he is shocked that he is speaking to a Christian. We talk more about Jesus, and wondering if he would live in a gated community with an SUV and telling people how wrong they are or if he would be down on Mill strumming a guitar with the hippies. Or if he would be neither of those places, but just accessible to anyone who wanted to talk.

I walk across the corner and stand near the light pole talking to a cafe employee that I have come to know, and the smoke comes out in between breaths and I look up at the sky, hazy and the sun is barely shinning through. The buses all roll by empty and young couples and old couples are walking side-by-side window shopping, and I am drinking my coffee.

"Avenue of the Giants" - Excerpt IV - Mount Shasta

2005-12-05T20:48:00.000-08:00

A break from the winter series, Excerpt IV of "Avenue of the Giants." I realized that I didn't take alot of time with the narrative here, and alot of it should be rewritten, and will be, but in the spirit of still posting rough drafts only, here's what I got for the moment:

A few more miles, up in the distance, I see the only clouds around, covering the peak of Mount Shasta, glimmering white with powdery snow and a mist that seems to roll down the mountain, halfway to the bottom. I turn off at the exit for the mountain, hoping to find someplace to grab breakfast and a cup of coffee. The town is hilly and the streets are narrow, and people here drive slow – not because of speed limits, but seemingly because they want to enjoy every moment. I have heard the population here is mostly Swedish, and while I have never been to Sweden, I have seen pictures – I can see why they would feel at home here. The cool air brushes off of the mountain and rolls down into the town, and seems to fill every side street and nook in the little town below. Driving around a little, I pass a cobblestone coffee shop called Has Beans nestled onto a corner at the bottom of a steep hill. I make a u-turn at the next light and park on a side street. The air is thin up here, a lot thinner then it is in Arizona or at the Orange County beaches, and I am surprised at how much I am huffing and puffing up the street. I arrive at the counter, and the baristas behind the counter are complaining about tourists.

This makes me smile and I sheepishly approach them, asking them for a triple cappuccino. I have this sick little game that one of my friends and I started, both of us being what our other friends call "coffee snobs." Hardly anybody makes a cappuccino properly – that is, espresso, a few ounces of milk, and a lot of well-steamed, fresh whole milk that caps the drink and brings the crema of the espresso up like a crown around the edges of the cup. Properly made, and in a proper cappuccino cup, you can shake and jiggle a cappuccino quite fiercely and the foam cap will keep the liquid from spilling out. The ultimate test of a coffee shop and a barista, for me at least, is the places ability to produce a proper cappuccino. I order that along with a thick slice of the apple cinnamon bread that is sitting at eye-level in the pastry cabinet. The lady, with a smile on her face, asks if I would like it warmed up, and I say yes. She then asks me where I'm from. I grin, and tell her that I'm afraid to tell her as I just heard she hates tourists.

"Oh you're fine – you ordered a cappuccino, not a carmel blended. You're not a real tourist."

I laugh, an inside laugh that only fellow baristas might get, and she passes the warm apple bread to me on a plate with a fork. She then hands me my cappuccino – the most incredibly perfect cappuccino I have ever seen.

"Wow, that's amazing," I tell her. "No one makes these properly."

"It's because of Starbucks, people are ignorant."

I laugh and tell her I used to work at Starbucks, but I had proper coffee training before that at a smaller shop. More customers walk in, and I take my plate and cup outside and sit in a small, four-person, tree-enclosed patio facing the mountain. After breakfast, I walk up the hill and take some pictures of the mountain, and of the coffee shop. So maybe I am one of those tourists.

The Winter, Part II

2005-12-03T18:35:00.000-08:00

The Winter, Part II

9a.m.
The old house leaks in cold, even when we have the heater on and the smell of burnt dust combines with the sewer smell from the standing water in our dishwasher creating a smell that I only notice when I have company. Otherwise, it smells like hostels to me, and I am maybe a bit too "at home" in this mess. I have tacked a Jersey-fabric bed sheet up around my windows to keep the cold air from seeping in through the cracks in my window, and that with the combined cloud cover allows no daylight to shine into my room, where I am warm and safe from having to make decisions about my life. I lay there still, knowing that the 9am light looks no different then the 5am light. Saturday mornings were made for sleeping in. I stretch, and turn myself back over, and fall back into dreams of angels.

11a.m.
Saturday mornings were also made for French toast, and I am up and moving and cleaning some of the house, including cleaning out the dishwasher stench which has grown too dominating over the night. I am now warm, have worked up a slight sweat scrubbing pots and pans and sinks and trash cans, and the French doors are open. The organic milk and organic eggs are mixed with the organic wheat/berry bread, and it is a lazy morning. The History Channel is on, showing images of the U.S. Marine Corps' battle for Tawara in November 1943. Next to the television is our fake, 7-foot tall bare Christmas tree, which John assembled two nights ago, at 2 in the morning.

1p.m.
The day has warmed up, nearly to 75. I jump into the deep end of the pool in our backyard, and the water is still ice cold. I am awake. I shiver and swim to try to warm myself up, but my muscles all want to cramp up at once; I take refuge near the steps of the pool, and end up sitting there dangling my feet in the water, then leaning back enjoying a perfect Fall day in our Arizona Winter. The wind brushes against my skin and I thank God for this moment and for this day; having learned two nights ago that right now I need to do what I know how to do -- praise and thank God for the simple things. God gave me a life to be lived and an eternal cause to particpate in, not a personal battle that is meant to overcome all my time and thoughts. Grace and understanding overcome; grace and understanding all-consuming.

3p.m.
Sam is on the concrete bench next to me and we are discussing his half-way house, and tonight is his daughter's fifth birthday. We are both on our way to Camelback, and I will remain there while he transfers to route 72 to his ex-girlfriend's house. They have plans for tonight. Sitting in the rear of the Route 66, we head towards Arizona State University and then take a detour past Mill to get around the Tempe Art Festival. The bus winds in between University buildings and construction zones; and I am happy to be on the bus rather then driving. I want to be connected to my city. The city is about people, and the people talk, and some moments are uncomfortable. This is the city I miss and I long for when I am driving in my car. Bus drivers like to talk, and I move to the front of this bus to make the conversation easier; the same way I did several months ago on the Muni riding up and down the streets of San Francisco. As we cross the Tempe/Scottsdale border, proud but shabby frat houses and small coffee shops give way to topless lounges and auto-detailers, and even those eventually give way to small summer patio homes, cactus, and huge Western-movie brown boulders as the bus struggles to climb into Papago Park.

5p.m.
I came to people watch and have a cup of coffee. I am not part of the Scottsdale Fashion Center scene, and for that I am proud, but it hurts to see the entraped. This is their perspective, their world that was manufactured for them by someone else and was bought and sold with expensive Argyle sweaters, Lucky jeans, and plates of food from Paradise Bakery. I would say I was appreciative of not being in want at these stores because I am above this kind of marketing, but really, it's because I just bought a bunch of new clothes at the Mervyn's by my house last week. I watch the sunset from a Scottsdale bus stop, and discuss Hemingway with a homeless man named Benecio.

7p.m.
I return to my neighborhood and walk the sectioned-off streets of Mill, having been dropped off by a bus up somewhere around Sun Devil Stadium. There is a cutting breeze and I forgot to pack my beanie in my backpack, but the Christmas decorations are lit up high on A Mountain and the trees lining the bars and pool clubs of our college town are decorated with white lights. The evening cool is refreshing, and I know most things die in winter, but I want to come alive in winter.

9pm
Joined by two good friends to walk the streets of Mill and to feel the sharp breezes cutting off the lake. And a place to write, until 2am.

Hearts bloom.

Ghosts of Thanksgiving Past

2005-11-24T18:17:00.000-08:00

Dinner with refugees and Creole stuffing, sitting there to make my depression seem lost and insane, in the presence of those who have lost, even more. I can't compare their notes of young Thanksgivings in the Bayou with mine of young Thanksgivings on the Pointe, but i can sit here and recall with them that all is not gained, even though we try to tell ourselves that it is to make us feel that much better. Our hearts drift to imagine something else, and a friends thoughts drift to make Seattle fog into snow, but I wonder aloud if we can't just be happy and satisfied, anymore.

Having everything to thank and so many empty spaces, when will my heart bow down for God's good graces and when will my eyes cry because I saw you die during this time four years ago, stabbed in the heart and the ribs by an angry man whose money he earned from you, and now every Christmas I run into your dad at the Wal-Mart, standing in line to buy one last thing. I every so often will walk along Gilbert and Brown, and weep for you and what I did not understand.

And last night we finally talked about what happened this time last year when Night Drive was our song and it truly was the Jimmy Eat World in those moments, at least through the phones. We have both grown up and apart and can now reminisce about where our lives are at a year later; and I can too remember the promises that Los Angeles held. So many layers dressed in those rememberances, a cutter would have a job to do to document all we saw and all we loved to do. We talked and we held our hearts hand walking around the bookstore with pumpkin ale in a coffee cup, illegal consumption just because we could; and those talks until 2am, underneath David's Christmas tree, when finally, it begun to all make sense.

I don't know what part of the oyster this is.

Whisper A Conversation

2005-11-24T00:20:00.000-08:00

A good end to a short work week, an end with a propsition of something different for an upcoming weekend and lunch with a friend at a cheap China restuarant next to a Mexican grocery store. A nap and then dinner at the pub, and a pleasent run in with some good friends I have not seen in a while. The night ends with a midnight jaunt through a bookstore, and I gulp that scent only found there.

I am not sure what I am looking for. Maybe I should figure it out? But how will I find it if I don't know, and will it all end right if I just go along for the ride? In lieu of these answers I will take a gamble and make myself a bit vulnerable yet again, as the kneejerk reaction of society to push people away just won't work for me. I thought about it though. If nothing more it will be a learning experience.

Sometimes you know somethings are possibly not the most beneifical for you; but curiosity and a longing to maybe know something a little bit more draws you in. I don't think disappointment is possible right now because it's going to be a conversation, and it's going to be real; if things don't align then I will walk away satisfied knowing that I learned a bit more and that I am not totally calloused.

And damn the poets, for they just don't understand.

God's grace.

"Avenue of the Giants" Excerpt III

2005-11-20T00:34:00.000-08:00

I keep driving around, half looking for the freeway to hop back on and half not caring if I find it for awhile, when there it is to my right – the California State Capitol. I came here with my Crystal Cathedral school group all those years ago, but I didn’t get to see the front of it. I was inside, took the tour, saw the massive hand-painted dome and all the exhibits, saw Governer Pete Wilson’s office, but not the front of the capitol. We were supposed to have our school picture taken there, but I went to a private Christian school and the big happening out in front was a protest in support of gay marriage. Adults stood around and many openly sneered comments at the kind of filthy people who were outside, and so we took our group picture elsewhere. I remember being sheltered at this point in time from homosexuals, and the adults acted like those protesting outside for equal rights were a band of body snatchers that was just waiting for one of us to wander through the halls of the Capitol unattended.

I pulled my car over and inserted a couple quarters into the meter, and walked up the massive lawn. For some reason, it felt right to do this even though I’m not totally sure if I would have particpated in those same fesitivties were they happening right now. But this is the state of my birth, and this is where my first encounter with the Church’s views of homosexuals took place. In a way, it only felt right to come back to this place now as a Christian struggling with sexuality, and stand on the very steps where a scene, a scene that I was sheltered from and was condemned, took place so many years ago. For a second, I almost felt as if the younger version of me was just inside those doors, smiling at what I was doing and appreciating the return to the scene of this loss of innocence with the Church.

...

2005-11-19T23:09:00.000-08:00

...and I know where it lays tonight. Seated warm and safe as I could wish staring out through a coffeeshop window onto a 7th Street sidewalk full of clubers, wanderers, and taxi cabs .... a shot rings out, followed by a second. The sounds penetrate but seem in time with the ehteral sounds of Sigor Rios playing on my computer, and then everyone everything is still.

Five minutes later police cars and motorcycles, emt's on bikes, and armed men in uniform on horseback convene on our single location, in the back parking lot that joins the rear parking lot of a Jack in the Box. A walk outside and in the cool air and a jacket zipped, I am stopped by pedestrians and yellow police tape. I am here for awhile, my car is in a crime scene; a walk along further finds that someone has laid their head down for the last time four feet from my car.

I sit here and continue working on a book, and all I can see are police lights flickering off the windows across the street.

I will be your servant

2005-11-19T18:28:00.000-08:00

Ah these various project I have they do take a while I suppose, forever at times, but those that hath faith in their completion--they are the ones who understand that sometimes dreams and goals escape and they fly out in the night by chance, and you chase after them heartfelt with a forward glance, not knowing where they are going to lay their pretty head, tonight.

Happier Times....

2005-11-16T22:48:00.000-08:00

Courtest of TravelPunk.com

Enveloped

2005-11-08T23:31:00.000-08:00

So some good news regarding "Churches, Pubs & Hostels" ... the whole process of being added to the big national databases takes 6-8 weeks, so maybe not in time for stocking stuffers. However, I should have it available off of Project Forever for ordering in 4-6 weeks. Also slowly working on a *better* version of the P.F. site, but at least things are moving forward, right?

Also, if you wanted to contribute something, or discuss contributing something, for the Project Forever 101 Quarterly (print edition), please send me an email and let's start on it. I'm open to ideas, so don't be shy. It's the goal of PF to have the first 101 Quarterly out in Summer of 2006 ... therefore it must be proofed and submitted by early April ... and final versions of documents should be submitted by early March. I'll be working with a layout artist out of Phoenix on the design, and it'll take just shy of a month to lay everything out properly. Putting this out will be the next big thing that PF will focus on after getting out "C,P&H."

So ... in the meantime ... working on the rough draft for "Avenue of the Giants." I am at just 6,000 words, much less then the 50,000 words I need to be at for the end of Nov. The third excerpt from "Avenue of the Giants," this section closes out the first chapter, "Enveloped." Again, this is a rough draft ... so be kind ...

I don't have a solution for how to live as a Christian struggling with homosexuality. I know I deal with it everyday, and I deal with these conflicting desires every day, but other then that, I don't have a solution. I've explored solutions and answers that have worked for others, I've read other books, been to counseling, and prayed hard for years for God to lift this from me. As a result, I am in that strange situation where I know, completely, that God has not and will not abandon me, but I can't say the same thing for the institutional Church. Fortunately, I have learned to look at “the Church” as a special group of tight Christian brothers and sisters who understand the meaning of God's grace and God's love, and that's what has kept me going in the faith.

One thing though, that I have found for sure, is that there are many other Christians who also struggle with this deeply; each one of them feels as if they are completely alone. And as a Christian; person who struggles with homosexuality but is also, 100%, a member of Christ's Kingdom – a Kingdom that is supposed to be about discipleship, love, grace, community, sharing one another's burdens, sitting still beside our hurting ones and crying or just being quiet with them, and praying for one another – this sense of rejection and isolation that so many of Christ's beloved ones feel from others who are also just merely saved by uncontrollable grace; this all pains me to the core.

And while I don't have answers or solutions for any one of you – I write this story and share these things so that you might have hope, that you might know that you are not alone in this struggle, and if anything, to bring you to complete confidence that Christ loves you, wants you, holds you – and that there is nothing you can do to reject this grace and love of His. I will be honest with you in this account and tell you that I have known the deepest depression from all of this, the deepest feelings of brokenness and forsaken fellowship, but I will also tell you that I have hope, and faith, in the midst of all of this ... if nothing else then the promise of a better day when conflict will no longer exist and God's presence will be all-consuming for each and every one of us.

So if I seem to understand all this ... I don't ... and if you see any positiveness or hope here, I ask that you please not attribute it to me, but you attribute that to Christ, for I know I would simply not exist right now if it was not for that hope. I think the struggle contained herein, and the reason for writing it, is perfectly summed up in this line from “The Fleecing” by Pedro the Lion: “Who should I blame, for this sweet and heavy trouble? For every stupid struggle? I don't know. I could buy you a drink, I could tell you all about it; I could tell you why I doubt it and why I still believe.”

"Avenue of the Giants" excerpt #2

2005-11-06T19:16:00.000-08:00

(photo taken by Isaac Jensen - summer 2004 - Huntington Beach Pier)

"Avenue of the Giants" excerpt #2 (this scene takes place with my friend Mike at Laguna Beach on a sunny and breezy June mid-day):

I lay down on the towel and bury my feet in the warm sand. I squint ahead and the sun is glistening off of the water, and everything about this is so ... relaxing. if I'm in Arizona too long I begin thinking that I like it there and that I really don't need to move back to Southern California, and then I come here on days like this. But I wonder, actually, how often I would come down here if I did live here. Work and life gets in the way of most days, and I wonder if my daily routine would be the same as it is in Phoenix, just driving by everywhere I would like to go so I can get to the places that I need to go.

I wonder why I do that in life, but I'm know I'm not the only one. Full-time work, full-time school consumes time, and errands consume time, and we very rarely allow ourselves the pleasure of just sitting somewhere and just being, enjoying the moment. The other day I was in my living room, leaning back all the way in this big recliner chair and watching â€œThe Mask of Zorroâ€ on some cable station. I had just had lunch, and the dog was laying in my lap, and my thoughts caught me off guard when I realized that I was really enjoying the moment. I usually have trouble enjoying quiet moments because I am always thinking about something that needs to be done. If it isn't school, it's laundry, or it's taking the car in for an oil change, or it's picking up groceries â€“ it's always something. And I often feel guilty when I sit there and soak up the moment, because I'm not being productive. I'm not â€œusing my time wisely.â€ And when I think of a â€œgood lifeâ€ it often involves not living in Arizona, but living somewhere down by the beach (and nevermind that I have contentment issues). But all those things that make life busy are still going to exist anywhere that I move â€“ and I wonder if having a beach within a mile of my house would really make me content. If I would even go to it or if I would take it for granted and visit it once every other month.

I turn to Mike. â€œDo you think I would be content here?â€

â€œWhat do you mean?â€

â€œI'm never content at home, but I always am content when I'm here.â€

â€œYou're on vacation Jeff. What's there not to be content about right now?â€

Mike's right, but at the same time, I catch myself in search of a feeling. I get a certain feeling when I'm on vacation, and I don't feel I can truly relax and begin exploring until I achieve that feeling. But it's only my first day out of town.

â€œI'm just afraid that if I did come here, out here to O.C., that I wouldn't enjoy it like I do when I visit.â€

â€œOf course you won't, Jeff. People rarely enjoy things that are their own.â€

I grew up in Orange County. I lived in North County, in Garden Grove, and we would make occasional trips out to Newport or Huntington Beach. I went to a private school and our field trips would often include going to Ghost Town at Knott's Berry Farm; going whale watching aboard the Catalina Express that sails out from Balboa; visiting California missions in San Juan Capistrono; or learning how to make and fly a kite at the kite stand on the pier. I enjoyed all of this to be sure; but growing up, I didn't know that other kids didn't have it this â€“ nice. I only started appreciating California and the beach and the culture when I moved out to Arizona. And I'm sure that while I don't like Arizona now â€“ I would probably appreciate it much more if I was to move out to middle of Wyoming. I would make sure that all my return visits to Arizona included a visit to the Tempe Town Lake and the Phoenix Art Walk. And I'm sure I would appreciate Wyoming much more if I was to move out to the middle of Africa. And then I would reminisce about Africa if I was to be deployed out into the middle of Iraq. And then if I had to leave my troop and be left alone in a solitary hut in Iraq â€“ and it goes on and on.

I'm pretty sure that you see by now that I don't think that true contentment lies with where you're at â€“ but who you are and how you deal with surroundings; what you make out of life. Though, at times, I have trouble remembering all of that. And even with that perspective â€“ and even knowing that God wants us to make Him the center of our contentment â€“ doesn't mean that I wouldn't at least like to move out here for a bit of time and see if, just perhaps, I would make frequent trips to the beach or not, and if I could shed this writer's tan.

That's why I'm not allowing myself to feel guilty for taking all this time off to go in search of contentment, or answers, or thoughts. I could sit at home and drive to parks around town and sit on grass and watercolor and watch the birds and the people, and save a lot of money in the process, but I think at that point I would be masking contentment for complacency. I think it's two different things, but it's often that we as people, and we as Christians, confuse the two in search of a faux-holy internal quest to accept the status quo as is and remedy all of our problems into easy answers and formulas. I don't think that's the answer though. I think God wants us moving, exploring, wrestling through life, walking into the unknown with faith and even without a safety net at times. So maybe being complacent is something that you are when you are tired of traveling or searching â€“ or when you don't even know that you should be out their traveling and searching. I must go and wander and search all of these internal things out, because, in reality, everything that everyone has told me has led me more to complacent thinking then content placing; and being complacent about this scares me.

Silent Prayer

2005-11-05T01:23:00.000-08:00

I've written a good deal more for "Avenue of the Giants" these last couple days since I posted the first excerpt, but am still far behind on the word count I need to be at in order to meet the NaNoWriMo challenge of 50,000 words by the end of November. It's been a mixture of my own obsessive going-out to concerts this week and a mixture of getting other things done. I'll give myself one more concert this month (Blindside on Nov. 11), but other then that all time is devoted for the writing The "other things" have been finally getting the ISBN, barcode, and copyrights needed for the Project Forever release of "Churches, Pubs & Hostels," and a distribution system worked out for it, so you'll be able to go to any Barnes & Noble or Borders store and order it from them.

The difficult part of "Avenue of the Giants" is that it just can't be pounded out -- since I want to portray everything so honestly and accurately, but still have the narrative of that work with the road trip story, -- I have to take the thousand things flying through my mind and put them in the book at proper places. I think the narrative surrounding the time I spent in Portland will be the largest chunk of the book -- not only because I was there the longest but because morning coffee conversations with my uncle and then nights in downtown with Ryan (from Sweden/the Huntington Beach hostel) conjured up the most internal dialouge. There were some other insightful moments that I will get into in other places as well -- the beers in the gay bar in the Castro district of San Francisco and reflection on top of the Space Needle in Seattle -- but so much of the internal dialouge happened in Portland.

It's hard to write too much without thinking about what other people might think -- family, some friends, random people. But I find encouragement in some places. I keep thinking back to my original conversation with John on this topic -- when he asked me why I don't write a book about this. While I started some versions sporadically and never got very far, this one I feel good about because for me, now, it's not about having the right answers or the faith solutions or the well-reasoned "confirmation" from God regarding where this lies in my faith -- this is about relating an experience. I hate seeing fellow followrs of Christ dealing with this and feelng so alone, and I hate the ignorance or blind prejudice about this topic being so prevelant in the Church. So, perhaps, if I can offer something relational, some can have understanding, some can have hope and perspective. That's what I pray will come out of this, and to be honest I feel completely insufficent to take this on.

Doubts in every direction imaginable -- be it sexuality, perspective, even faith -- have encompassed me this last week. So I may be asking this alot this month, and may be spelling this out alot this month if for no other reason then just to remind me of why I'm working on this, -- but if you find this topic to be an important one to be discussed, to be explored, I simply ask for your prayers of support, wisdom, and even strength. Thank you.

Solicite Our Hearts

2005-11-01T22:43:00.000-08:00

I have also decided for this month I will largely not be social and I may grow a beard. I will allow my performance at work to suffer, although not too greatly. Sleep is for the weak. I need to tell this, I need to get this out. I am on a mission, as self-important as it may seem. Yes, I know I need to -- and will -- get the first book out. That will be happening in some form this month (in time to be a stocking stuffer! haha). But this book, "Avenue of the Giants," I don't know if I'll have the guts to get this thing out. I will make myself sick and be all consumed just thinking about writing it, and I've already thrown up once today, after realizing what it is that I'm supposed to be writing. It will be completely non-fiction, not going the previous autobiographical fiction route I proposed to a friend earlier on the phone.

So while I have heard such sampling to be dangerous to the writing process, I will post excerpts here, from time to time during this month, probably in vague snipets. This is a rough draft so be kind. Mainly, if I'm going to get this out -- I may just need some prayer.

First excerpt from "Avenue of the Giants":

Now, I'm 23, wishing things never would have changed. Somewhere along the line, I came to the conclusion that it may not be God's will to change who I am when it came down to it. Maybe this is my “thorn in my side,” or maybe this is something I have been given, along with a new perspective on Christ, to offer hope to other people. But before I did that, I had to find out what I truly thought about it. And like all good times of thinking, I needed to get away – out of the country and into the city and go exploring, go driving. I needed to walk among the giants of my life and my faith and my culture; to see what everyone was saying and what God was leading me to believe. So I went for a drive.

Avenue of the Giants

2005-10-31T23:43:00.000-08:00

...Because I needed more to do.

Winding Road to Understanding

2005-10-27T23:15:00.000-07:00

I think I am going to go out on a limb and be vulnerable in this entry ... please help me save face by not bringing this up to me in public, and help you if you ever use this knowledge against me ....

When I was seeing my counseler last year for my "issues," one of the common themes he constantly brought up was that I was longing for approval, friendship, close (non-sexual) companionship from males, and that's one of the reasons that I deal with what I deal with. For those of you whom don't know my backstory, up through the end of high school it was basically "everyone I know goes away in the end" when it comes to males who could influence me in masculine ways, who could affirm that in me and somehow pass that down; whom could let me know that I'm a man and this is who men are and this is what they do (not in the overtly-macho sense but in the "Wild at Heart" sense). My dad walked out when I was born and died when I was 10 before I ever met him, my grandfather passed away when I was 8, and two other very influential male figures whom I will always treasure for their honesty and conversation -- Mike McClanahan and Edwin Pleasents -- passed away just a few years after I met them.

So, in secret the last several weeks, I've been rereading "Wild at Heart" every now and then. I've been coupling that book with occassional readings of Isaiah, and the two seem to go hand in hand pretty well for some reason. And I've been thinking more and more about "the wound" and what that all means. And lately, I've been paying a ton more attention to where I receive any affirmation from and how I feel when things go awry. My first major encounter with this was when my old friend cut me down harshly in a conversation with my brother one night at a grocery store. But I chalked that up to the hurt being from an old friend whom I valued and trusted quite a bit.

And I've also -- ever so slowly but ever so thoughtfully -- been seeking out my thoughts on a series of simple, yet intense, questions that a friend sent me about struggling with this issue as a Christian.

And then today happened. At work, this older guy I work with has become a friend of sorts, and he has served as my mentor/trainer on the floor at my job. We have established a good repoire and work well together. A bit after lunch, I did something that, by total accident, inadvertendly offended him (and NO I did not make some inappropriate/controversial joke or comment .... I think I touched a nerve on this guy's ego more then anything). So, instead of letting me know that I offended him in a half-decent matter, he proceeds to rip into me rather harshly in front of a few other people. He took great pleasure in trying to make me feel very small and stupid.

I would really like to tell you all right now that I am past the emotionally fragile stage of being deeply cut by someone's words .... that I am beyond the point of not being able to "take it like a man" and let something stupid like this roll off my back ... but that would be a lie.

A complete lie.

The reality is I put it out of my mind the whole rest of the day -- in the car home, at Starbucks, at the restaurant -- until I came home and sat down and caught myself getting extremely upset and then wondering why. The fact is folks, a female could say some of the harshest things to me and it would roll off my back in 5 minutes. But when a guy I half-admired, and emberassingly enough, sought approval from, says something like that -- it just cuts that wound all the more. It takes all I have to hold back tears and not let it get me into a major corner of depression.

I must tell you that I greatly value my female and male friends, but that male friends who are sincere and spend time and understand and listen are the extremely valuable to my heart. They know who they are. And even those guys I only talk to at Bible study, or over lunch, or the occassional cup of coffee in Gilbert or Seattle -- those guys that I look up to for their wisdom and Godly understanding and grasped concept of grace -- I love those guys for that.

But ultimately, I know I can't put all, 100%, hardcore support on them -- it's not fair to them or to me. I know I must put that on Christ -- the ultimate man -- who loves me unconditionally and has affirmed his love, grace, and yes, masculinity to me and who loves me despite my flaws -- whom I can look up to, pray to, love, and follow the example of.

Talking to my friend Ryan tonight on AIM, I am reminded what a real man is ... "Inflicting pain on yourself [in the form of being yourself in an unfriendly world]? competing? fighting? wanting to take care of people, save people? be relied on? face a challenge...be a hero?
that is a man, and i never once doubt it." That is the man Christ is, and that is whom I need to seek approval from, not from gossiping, self-important individuals who get their kicks out of trying to make others feel small.

...And all this is good to say now, in this moment. But then we are out there, in the real world, and we forget our truest perspective possible, and we hurt. We hurt with a pain and longing and compassion unknown to our enemies....and that's why we must pray.

ProjectForever.com

2005-10-22T21:18:00.000-07:00

Let this day, October 22, 2005, be a day of joyous rememberance:

The debut of ProjectForever.com

The Beast of Steel

2005-10-20T22:29:00.000-07:00

Up a brick path and then four steps down into a narrow hall that leads to our corner booth. Scottish beer and a French Dip, and the purest of conversations, a night where hurt and confusion was discussed openly, and also why girls like to talk over music so much. Our waiter had trouble splitting the check, but laughed about it and brought us more water whenever ours emptied. And story to story, moment to moment, a growing sense for a new time and place echoed all around me. Stepping out of the dark concourse of the pub and almost directly into traffic while trying to catch the bus across the street, we ran in between cars that honked and curbs that were slippery. The bus turned off its flashing lights and merged back into Broadway traffic long before we could catch it, so we decided to walk backwards without looking for half a mile. Backwards watching the pub and the Arby's and the Motel 6 grow further and further away from us. With smiles on our faces we wondered if the people passing by thought we were walking forward. It's amazing how natural walking backwards feels when done for more then 10 minutes.

And then the night grew quiet and dark and eerie as we stepped away from the city street into the private alleyway of Pacific Railroad tracks, walking on the wooden ties in between the steel, the smell of grit and oil rising beneath our feet as every sound got more and more destinative and we jumped at the sound of a barking dog. And we turn around and see a bright light straight ahead, and we know it is a train. We hear the rumble, the vibration on the steel tracks, and the whistles in the distance. There are still the black-out visions of passing cars between us and the light, so we know it hasn't crossed Broadway yet. And it gets brighter and larger. We turn around opposite and walk. Then turn around 30 paces ahead and see how much brighter it now is. "Shit!" We begin running. Running faster then when we were running in between cars, trying to outrun the railroad. We arrive drained of air but full of life -- alive! -- at the bridge with the paved-in walkway that leads to a cul-de-sac by my house, and we stop here and face the bright light, still standing in the tracks. A classic photo is taken with a picture phone. Is it getting closer? Yes! It has to be! It will be here in a few seconds with the way that trains travel! Instant! Let's stand a few feet in this direction and watch this oh this night with moon so bright standing gazing watching as the train roars past where we just stood -- we are breathless, having outrun the steel beast from where it was bearing down on our backs and now we stand here at our destination anxious and waiting -- picture phones out, I am already writing a postcard home to capture this moment!

And the light goes out. And it turns. It was a Ford F350. On the tracks, with a spotlight. But we still have the picture.

And it doesn't matter anymore....

2005-10-13T00:38:00.000-07:00

I ran into an individual tonight that I have known for several years, but have traditionally never gotten along with. In tonight's conversation, this was addressed directly, and peaceful plans were made to meet and to discuss. I've been warned to leave well enough alone and walk away before, but I can't .... especially can't now when my desire is peace and communication. The anger and frustration has drained from me, to the point of feeling broken when it comes to some issues.

I'm not angry, I'm not frustrated. But yes, at times I am hurt. And many times I have not dealt with that hurt in proper manners. But things have changed.

This situation and many others things seem so desperately important, rich in meaning, over the last two weeks. Not an evening is had without significance, not a conversation about a project is had without further development, not a hand is held without love, not a conversation is had with an empty heart.

I've been approached by a fellow writer to offer her help. This means more then is at surface level. I've been offered lending hands where needed in ways I have never expected. This means something. I've truly seen things in people and around people and had thoughts that I just wholeheartedly don't know how to express. I've had perspectives and thoughts that have never been so consumed by what I can perceive as God's perspective, and I'm trying to make sense of it all and don't even attempt to blog it, because I wouldn't know where to start.

I am tempted not to blog this, lest people think I am bragging or expounding prideful notions, but please don't read this as such.

I'm trying to make sense of the thoughts and dreams. The graphic, recurring dream I've had close to a week now that is truly all-consuming.

And in the midst of all of this, I feel and cry alot, but not for myself. Not for myself anymore. I have hour-long discussions with two deputy sherrifs I know from New Orleans. I see the chaos in American streets. I hear that there are 42,000 dead by killer quakes in the last week. And then I read about the hypocrites of Christianity meeting with government officials to discuss none of the above, but to tell their preferred choice for current judicial nominees.

And then I see everyone ignore everyone and they say that it just doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter anymore. And then all is forgotten, until we fall again.

One-Year Anniversary

2005-10-11T00:00:00.000-07:00

MySpace.com is celebrating their Two Year Anniversary this month with a concert at Dodger Stadium with Dashboard Confessional, All-American Rejects, and Jim Adkins. Also this month, Churches, Pubs & Hostels is celebrating it's One Year Anniversary with green tea, a lemon crape, and a strawberry-vanillia hookah at Mill's End Cafe with Isaac Jensen.

Both events drew similiar attention.

So, yes, it's been a fun-filled (and not-so-fun-filled) year with blogging, and I think overall I've learned a great deal about people, their opinions, their grace, and myself most of all. It's been a good experience overall.

It all started with this post, Travel Contemplated.

In that post, I discuss that I just got back from Chicago with two friends. We were there for a missionary convention. I'm also discussing the possibility of a trip overseas that next summer, to England, which didn't materialize. But that's alright. Other travel was documented this last year, including a few California trips and a two-and-a-half week long solo road trip up the West Coast, visiting Orange County, San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle. And now I'm here to discuss a trip to Israel this next spring, and to document my life as I attempt a move to another state within this next year (I say this now, lest I be considered a follower, as this place has been on my heart for some time, but I am a bit slow at moving).

I'll reflect more later on perhaps, but for now, I'm getting to bed. Sincerely, thank you to those who have been my vocal and silent support and accountability over this last year as a result of things written on this blog, or just your friendship, or your willingness to sit down over coffee at Rio Salado Coffee Company, Starbucks at Steplay, Alma School & Dobson, and Gilbert & Baseline, The Phoenecia Greek Cafe in Gilbert, Panda Express at Mesa Grande, or The Spotted Cow in Everett. It meant more then you'll ever know.

Seattle Aquarium

2005-10-09T12:51:00.000-07:00

This morning I was checking out one of John's other blogs, SeattleDayTrips.com and fond memories were stirred by his most recent post on the Seattle Aquarium. I didn't make it to the Aquarium when I was there this summer, but I was one of the last people to go to the Seattle Imax that shared a building with the Aquarium at Pier 59. The IMAX center (which was, by the way, a horrible facility) was already undergoing some prep work for demolition, and now it's gone!

A picture I took of the facility along Puget Sound:

And now, courtest of Seattle.gov:

Interesting to see things change! It's all being done as part of a huge renovation of Pier 59, that will include a new Windows of the Water attraction and a Puget Sound Great Hall for community events. I look forward to seeing the changes, although it's another year before it gets completed. And just for the heck of it, a couple more Seattle photos from my trip (because I loved this city the most, but Portland is a very, very, very close second -- because of Powell's and the amazing public transportation!):

(The Seattle Center as seen coming down the I-5 past Sea-Tac International Airport)

(Seattle Center Monorail)

(Riding the monorail through the Eperience Music Project)

(Riding the monorail through downtown to Pike's Place)

(The legendary Post Alley near Pike's Place -- Post Alley is also the name of the BEST Seattle's Best coffee roast EVER)

(The FIRST Starbucks EVER -- located at Pike's Place Market. I was tempted to get a cappucino here but went for my Iced Venti No Classic Black Tea instead)

(One of my favorite pictures -- backpackers leaving a downtown Seattle youth hostel)

(The Downtown Skyline as seen from Pier 59. This area of the Pier, including the pink overhead ramp and the restaurant were demolished shortly after my visit).

(Another view of the skyline and the main street along the Sound)

(The Sound at dusk, taken from Pier 59)

(Near Post Alley, the secondary sign for Pike's Place)

(The main sign for Pike's Place)

(The piggy bank at Pike's)

(My favorite picture of the Space Needle)

(City lights from atop the Space Needle)

(The Experience Music Project from waaaayyy up high)

(The city, once again)

(Puget Sound from night, as seen from atop the Space Neelde. It was approaching midnight when I took this picture)

(I took this after sitting right here in the park, smoking a bunch of cloves and napping at one point. I think it was near 2am)

Two Brothers

2005-10-06T23:00:00.000-07:00

A very pitiful thing happened tonight, when a friend whom I once counted as among my best tried very hard to slander me in disgusting, horrible, humiliating ways to my older brother, whom I am trying to build a closer relationship with. I love my brother for not only giving this guy no face value credit, but for calling me shortly afterward concerned. Concerned in a brotherly way.

I hadn't seen this "friend" in over nine months and was very grieved when I was forced to cut ties with him for reasons I won't go into here. But he was someone I was always with, always talked to, whom I did service projects and a mission trip with. I led his Bible study and we always helped one another.

Tonight, the sickening attempts this friend made to try to cause turmoil in an already fragile family life ended up not working. My brother and I had a good conversation, and bonds were strengthned. My brother is moving in a few days to Chesapeake Bay, to work a job with his former boss from Orange County. I won't see him again for quite some time. But I can't help but see that such a deep and meaningful conversation between my brother and I would not have been possible without the evil efforts of a sad person.

I feel I should have felt anger towards this individual, but feel little except for the deepest of disappointments, and in all honesty, pity.

I just wanted to share this with you tonight so I could tell you how much I love and value my brother. So that I could tell you how much I love and value my true and very dear friends. And so that I could publically praise God, in a very literal sense, for taking what was meant for harm and using it to strengthen the bonds of two brothers.

Love,
Jeff Nash

Memorandum of Existence

2005-09-28T23:41:00.000-07:00

Been working on the site finally ... should be up soon ...

project forever is a growing collection of writers, musicians, and artists who are bonded in their commitment to help better the world through the education, appreciation, and implementation of the arts; their desire to support one another in striving for authenticity and depth in their creations and to work with one another in bringing individual projects to completion where help is needed; and the common desire to bring others into this artistic community both through the sharing of creations and personal involvement.

Ex-Nazi To Exterminate Gay Priests To Improve Public Image

2005-09-22T23:18:00.000-07:00

Now this headline is a bit of hyperbole ... and it probably offended some of you. But like most of the hyperbole that the Western culture public looks to as legitimate "news" rather then the bullshit it is ... it has its *roots* in truth.

The ex-Nazi in this case is Pope Benedict XVI, who the Holy See tells us was not a willing participant in the Nazi affairs, but was forced as a young man into Hitler's Youth organization, being the young Joseph Ratzinger growing up in Germany that he was.

And he's not looking to "exterminate" existing gay priests, only bar any future homosexuals (yes, even the celibate, God-fearing ones) from entering into priesthood ever again. The total blame can't lie on him though, can it? Because the papers to do so were initiated a couple years back by Pope John Paul II. But Pope Benedict XVI was never meant to be a long-term pope, just a "transistional pope" to help aliviate the shock of a more drastic change in the wake of John Paul's passing.

And the public image ... well, all this is being done to soothe the public image of the western, mostly American, brances of the Roman Catholic Church. The decision to bar celibate, God-fearing, but homosexual men from ever being able to acheive priesthood was a reaction to the Catholic sex scandals in the U.S. John Paul II supported this, which is strange all considering, as he was friends with and a supporter of Father Henri Nouwen, a remarkable priest and author who shared his struggles intimatly with the pontiff. Under this new law, Nouwen, if beginning his ministry today, would not have been able to do so.

I reference this back to the hyperbole ... because Western culture and Western religion commonly loves to use hyperbole to advance their cause. Their were some very perverted priests who raped boys in the Church. These crimes are horrible, and I'm not denying that what these priests did was wrong and that they should be harshly punished in the courts (even knowing they are NOT exempt from God's grace).

It was hyperbole that led conservatives to use the tragic cases to advance their cause against the homosexual community and demand that gay men be withheld from the priesthood. Under a public relations microscope, John Paul II agreed to advance their request. These requests work from a hyperbole mindset that every gay man is also a pervert ... the Vatican going through with this new rule does nothing but promote exclusion and judgement of homosexuals both from the Church and the public, implies that all gay men are twisted, and caters to a outlandish, uneducated minset. To the God-fearing homosexuals within the Church, it promotes more hurt and more fear. I'm sure this is what God intends for the Church, right?

The priests who raped those boys were not homosexuals ... they were deviants who built up desires over time ... and the young boys were the victims. I find this unexcusable, and disgusting.

But again ... these were not homosexuals who did this. Gay men and child molesters are not one in the same, rather priests or not. Please understand that. And rather it be in the news or your own blog ... keep in mind the effects of sarcasm and hyperbole, which easily become twisted lies when adobted by blindly-led groups who decide targets with a mob mentality.

The Church will get a cleaner image from this ... for awhile, until God forbid, it happens again. And again, by a straight priest. Then who will the public blame when it thinks it has eradicated all the easy public targets? Somehow some twisted organization will aim for the Church, and/or God directly.

So let's believe the mob mentalities and the hyperbole, doing what sounds easy in the short-run to clear this world of all its wrongs on the surface level but never looking deeper. Let's let it seep and grow ... in all areas ... because the heart is never where the matter lies. Let us help the world attack the easy targets, and help them in their eventual conclusions of the faith.

(The last paragraph is a great place to begin not following sarcastic, hyperbolic, mob mentality thought, by the way).

Simon Wiesenthal

2005-09-21T00:55:00.000-07:00

I had the honor of meeting this man back in 1998 during a press visit to The Simon Wiesenthal Center in Los Angeles, California. His committment, passion, and story has always fascinated me.

Simon Wiesenthal, the death camp survivor who devoted his life to preserving the memory of the Holocaust and bringing Nazi war criminals to justice, died Tuesday at his home in Vienna, Austria. He had a kidney ailment and was 96.

After being liberated from the Mauthausen death camp in May 1945, Mr. Wiesenthal dedicated himself to being a voice for the 6 million Jews and perhaps 5 million other noncombatants who were systematically murdered by the Nazis. He lost 89 relatives in the Holocaust.

"Simon Wiesenthal was the conscience of the Holocaust," said Rabbi Marvin Hier, the dean and founder of the Simon Wiesenthal Center in Los Angeles.

Mr. Wiesenthal's biographers credited him with helping to ferret out 1,100 of Adolf Hitler's major and minor killers and other Nazi war criminals since World War II.

Among his targets was Adolf Eichmann, the Nazi bureaucrat who implemented Hitler's "Final Solution," the state-sponsored extermination of millions of Jews. He also sought lesser-known officials such as Franz Stangl, commandant of the prison camps at Treblinka and Sobibor, in German-occupied Poland, who had a role in at least 900,000 deaths.

For years, especially during the height of the Cold War, when many wanted to forget or evade the horrors of Hitler and his followers, Mr. Wiesenthal was an insistent reminder that their evil acts must be remembered and accounted for. He frequently called himself a "deputy for the dead."

"When history looks back," Mr. Wiesenthal said, "I want people to know the Nazis weren't able to kill millions of people and get away with it." He warned on many occasions: "If we pardon this genocide, it will be repeated, and not only on Jews. If we don't learn this lesson, then millions died for nothing."

Among Mr. Wiesenthal's accomplishments was tracking down Karl Silberbauer, who had been the Gestapo aide responsible for arresting Anne Frank and her family in their secret annex in Amsterdam. The case buttressed the credibility of Anne's diary in the face of neo-Nazi claims that it was fabricated.

Let us, truly, never forget.

Click here to read the whole article.

I Will Sit Here And I Will Be Content Part II (The Roustabout Edition)

2005-09-18T19:03:00.000-07:00

There is a man who wanders around the beach park in the late night/early morning playing bag pipes for an undefined audience, and lately I have found myself going there and laying on a hill and listening to him play; when he walks towards the other end of the park I can but barely hear him, and every once in awhile the Irish tunes get completely drowned out by an airplane. But that's how I like my nights now, rather alone, with airplanes and bag pipes. Near water. I can be quiet here they same way I can be quiet under the Pier, or the same way I can be quiet staring down into Puget Sound.

I lose myself in dreams here until the police come along and nudge me to leave and tell me, more then once, to "go find someplace else to sleep." But we can't be caught with our hands in the fountains.

The walks back home are long when I've missed the last bus, but the night is serene when alone, and I feel a million peaceful miles away from the Sun Devils partying across the street. I feel pity for those who tell me they can't be alone by themselves in public, because they're too insecure. The same way I feel pity for those people, alone or in couples, who scowl at the bag piper for playing his language Celtic over their language Suburban, not being aware of the gift they are receiving on this night.

The walks home always go by faster when I am able to whisper a symphony in beat.

Routes

2005-09-11T13:13:00.000-07:00

I watched the movie "Crash" twice yesterday. Amazing movie about intersecting lives, and the routes people take.

This morning I was watching the Travel Channel and came across a show called "5 Takes Europe," a documentary on backpacking Europe. One of the guys on the movie is a 23-year old named Brad from Tempe, Arizona. I looked up his MySpace and he is originally from Orange County, California. The episode of "5 Takes Europe" that I watched showed Brad at the Nazi death camps in Aushwitz, and even from the television it was a gut-wrenching examination and reflection of what went on there. The episode showed Brad moved by the experiences, and he talked with his group about human suffering and what a tragedy it is to people on both sides.

Then a few minutes ago I went to my work desk and searched Google News for information on the 4th anniversary of 9/11. The one link I saw was that there was a new-video from Al Queda, where a young Muslim named Adam directly threatened Melbourne, Austraila and Los Angeles. I read more about Adam, and he too is 23, also from Orange County, in fact my hometown of Garden Grove. They articles said that as an angry O.C. teen, he converted to Islam at a mosque close to his house. I know that mosque, it is in Anaheim, not too far from my old house, near the grocery store we used to always shop at.

I'm not trying to overstrech a point here, but I have to look back and say "wow" when I look at all this, you know? Right now I'm in Tempe, starting a writer's collective and working full time. I contacted Brad about being part of the collective, and he is currently off the show relaxing at a Bible study camp in Sweden. Adam is rumored to be in Pakistan, figuring out how to terrorize his hometown. To my knowledge I never bypassed any of them while living in O.C., but we all came from the same 25-mile square radious in north county. I guess it boggles my mind sometimes how complex our world is, and how intertwined it sometimes is.

On the episode, Brad talked about how the world becomes when you begin traveling. How very small and humanistic everything becomes. I am excited for people like Brad who have amazing opprotunities for travel, and to even learn about the somber realities of our world's history first hand. And in a way my heart hurts and my prayers go out for people like Adam, an angry youth who sought peace from the start ... and was corrupted beyond, what many would say, any redemption, to the point that he wants to kill so many so aimlessly.

Can we, as Christians, respond to the memory of four years ago today with humbled prayers and heavy hearts, and faith, instead of hatred and anger? It's so easy to love those who love us, but we were not commanded to take the easy route. Let us pray not just for America, not just for Christians, not just for ourselves. Let us pray also for them. We claim that we want to see God work in the midst of this chaotic world right now. Let's put some faith towards that.

Through Painted Deserts

2005-09-11T10:51:00.000-07:00

If you have a few minutes, go check out Don Miller's site.

Several years ago he released his first book (yes, before "Blue Like Jazz"), entitled "Prayer and the Art of Volkswagon Maintenence." I bought it the week it came out, and people who were reading other good Christian authors thought it was silly that I spent money on this book by this unknown guy. My small circle of Christian friends at the time saw little value because he wasn't Yancy or even Joshua Harris. Then came along "Blue Like Jazz" years later, and people thought he was a Christian-cultural genius. The new books are good, but "Volkswagon" is still my favorite.

It has just been rereleased, a bit modified to be more truthful, under the new title "Through Painted Deserts." It chronicles the road trip that Don took with Paul from Houston, Texas through New Mexico, Arizona, and California, and how he wound up in Portland.

The main page of his site has an audio recording of Don reading a new Author's Note, talking about leaving and changing. It's worth a listen, and the narrative really is quite beautiful.

Tagged

2005-09-08T17:07:00.000-07:00

All because of John over at Some Strange Ideas, I've been tagged:

The explosion of the blog world in the last year has led to countless quality blogs being started, but sometimes it is hard to find them amongst all the other blog muck. Because there are so many quality blogs out there, I though I would try to start a meme to send some eyeballs toward those unknown bloggers. So, share a blog you think more people should read, and then tag 5 others (who hopefully read your blog!) to do the same.

I was tagged by Brandon over at Finding Monsuun. Like J.J. said, most of the blogs I read have already been tagged. So, I directly bring to light Culture-Driven Life. I'm not going to attempt to explain this blog, just know that I like it and you should go check it out. Jimmy is also traveling to New Orleans to help with relief efforts, so if you're directly looking to help support someone going to help, he's a good choice I would say. :)

My Five Blogging/Xanging Friends, you are now tagged:

Jamie Mulhern with Pennies
M+ with Out of the Ashes
Grant Buchholtz with Foi for Kyo
Bradley Hathaway with Hey It's Bradley
Keith Eckhardt with Journals Are For Fags

Another blog I think people should check out but I won't "tag" because I know she doesn't read this site, is Baghdad Burning. Interesting viewpoints there.

From My Window

2005-09-04T18:23:00.000-07:00

And the assorted memories of life just keep coming out of boxes, with no real place to put them in a room that could otherwise be considered a fresh start. I feel weird and awkward complaining about having so many familiar things that I don't want when at this very moment thousands are pleading and begging for familiar things that they do want. I do not know if I should feel guilty or ungrateful, but if it wasn't for the force of nature and weak levees, some of them would be doing the exact same thing that I'm doing. And how weak and penatrable is Arizona, our roles could easily have been reversed.

Today I walked down to the end of my block, leaving my car parked in the fine gravel next to John's blue truck. I caught a bus in front of the Italian restaurant, and then boarded with people who looked too poor to afford the shirt I was wearing. The bus smelled of sweat; indeed it was hot, but that doesn't stop the legions on Mill Avenue from pretending that they are walking up and down Pine Street or Nob Hill.

I get off just over the bridge, and stare and photograph the western-movie brown boulders of Papago Park, climbing hills to take pictures that give me an overview of the university and the man-made lake along a portion of the dry river bed. Purposeful, man-made flooding is an asset, when controlled. I go down to where the two brigdes of Mill meet on the north side of the shore, and make a space to sit in the sand, making sure I will not stab myself with a stray shard of glass or hypodermic needle. This is a rank, abandoned, sad attempt at capturing the idea of "a nice place to go," but it is quiet, so I sit here. A jumbo jet roars directly overhead as it makes its final approach into Sky Harbor. From my bedroom window I can see the planes come in, from my new work window, I can watch them actually land. My new work office building is constructed at the end of a take off ramp at Sky Harbor. It's sometimes fun to watch, sometimes not.

So out and alone I wonder about the kind of person I want to be, the things I will do with my new time and locale. I have very little excuse not to be active in life anymore, no more excuses to not feel responsible. I have not only the immediate and paycheck responsibilities of a new full-time job and new full-time school and the little things to decide upon, but also the bigger things in life, the overall that will make me into who I will become, or that I will choose because of who I am. I have friends and family, and guidance, and God. But the new freedom of being in a somewhat familiar yet very unfamiliar city with no one to ask questions, no one to look out is blissfully liberating -- but now i am fully free to look at and apply those values to my life which I always said were important. Service to God. Writing. Love. Compassion. Service to people. Committment to self. I feel like I am on a road to finding for myself the person my heart always claimed me to be.

And I'm not back to blogging yet. But my journal is in a box, and I'm too busy enjoying the evening to look for it.

There Is A Time For Everything

2005-08-12T02:06:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone,

I'm going to take a break from blogging for a little while. Sorry for those of you who enjoy reading, I just kind of want some personal time of "silence," if you will, or as much as is possible. Nothing bad is going on, so don't be worried. And I am not depressed or anything. I jumbled alot of things together in the last post -- but I think it can still be clear from that post that I have some thinking to do and some projects to finish up with and some new things to start. But I also do truly feel a call from God at this point in time to just not say anything for a bit -- at least online. I need to spend this time to think and reflect. To be around close friends in meaningful moments. And to think seriously about some future things God is putting on my heart ... to truly seperate some of my own desires from His desires.

I do not say this flipantly or self-righteously, but God is on my heart right now more then He has been in a very long time. And I need to be still and pay attention to that. I feel that sometimes when I process this stuff on the blog, it is good, but that also gets alot of thoughts "out of my head" so to speak -- and I need these thoughts in my head right now. I do believe whatever gifts I have need to be used for God, were given to me for His service. And like I told a friend recently on an AIM conversation, I do not feel called nor accepted to minister to those within the Church anymore, but those outside the Church who feel rejected and unwanted need that grace, and they need someone to share that with them. That it is there, because many of them have not been told about it. So that's on my heart in a way, and something I am going to spend some time praying about, and please join in those prayers if you feel so led. This is one of those times that I just need to be quiet and reverent, even if in the midst of normal daily life.

In the meantime, I hope to see you all around later. Feel free to email me still, if you need to. Peace and much love to you all, and may we all be silent and reverent in the black storms of life.

--William J. Nash-McAdam

Thoughts From The Gurney

2005-08-11T02:03:00.000-07:00

There are many things I have been wanting to write about lately. This is one of those times when I feel God is teaching me a ton and where I feel I am being led and motivated in so many ways ... but the experience as a whole is beyond words. I never can find words to capture experiences ... music can sometimes, because it creates moods and atmospheres that can parallel the soul at times, beyond what words can.

Some of the things that are continuing are the humble and ugly reflections brought about by a visit last week to a new church ... a place I went to merely criticize, but God used their malfunctions to reflect my own. Also continuing is the spurring on of ideas and goals brought on by the Blindside concert, a few close friends here in town, a friend out in Orange County, and a friend whose in Europe right now.

There have been new things added along the way ... more conversation with J'aan from Coffee Bean. J'aan is in her mid-forties, but knows the name of every member of Blindside and some of their songs -- just a cool lady with a relational wisdom you would not expect. She's known me since late 2001, and through our deep talks about life and direction, she notices consistancies or inconsistancies and isn't afraid to point them out to me. We spoke about Project Forever and it's book and music projects, we spoke about hardcore faith infused with hardcore grace and what that's all about. We spoke about missions, about the fact that I have to have an outlet to share what I've learned with others. Not for prideful reasons but because I believe I have to communicate this stuff, whatever it may be someday.

New things also include my 6-year old nephew, who is growing closer to me, and recently told me that Jesus "risked his life for nothing really," and is being infused by his mother to have no faith whatsoever. She is into "divine prophecy" and angel cards, and my heart hurts for my nephew but also becomes hopeful as he wants to talk to me more and spend time with me more, and he's asking me questions. I went and saw his new room today at my brother's new house, and then had a good conversation with my brother. Family is important. Please send your prayers my nephew's way.

And finally there is the umbilical hernia that landed me in the emergency room at Chandler Wednesday morning ... some internal bleeding that is healing up from a weak cell membrane wrapped around my stomach. Basically (and some of this is gross haha) they did some tests on me and I am one of the very few people in existance who have thin membrane walls ... which means extra weight gain ... even by a couple pounds, could lead to big problems. To cure this hernia, I have to loose some weight yes (I'm not overly fat just overweight some ... but yeah), and then I have to loose a ton of weight as fast as possible. Baically ... even though I'm 6'1" and big-boned, my body structure can not accomodate extra weight really at all without horrible medical problems as I grow older ... so in order to avoid problems like this hernia (which if not healed could eventually lead to a suffocated intestine and whatnot haha), I have to drop all my extra weight. Which is good. I needed to anyway and this is kinda of the kick in the pants to make that happen ... but I'm looking forward to it.

I couldn't help but putting some spiritual thoughts into this physical occurance ... in order to pursue some basic goals, in order to be able to strive towards making Project Forever happen ... a ton of current habits and work ethics have to change. In order to begin remedying what I saw in the reflection of Church ... a ton of things spiritually need to improve, to change. In order to be able to live healthy and functionally and becoming the "thin" weight I need to be for medical reasons ... tons of habits and ethics have to change.

So I have these visions, these goals in my head of where I need to be ... and they're all places I want to be. And no, I do not think meeting every one of these goals will bring fullfillment or contintment. But they bring progress .. they bring a moving forward. And then, God will show me the next few paths that He wants me to follow. I am not sure where things are going, but in a way I will be proactive, but in that proactiveness I want to close my eyes and be still and silent and let God do the leading and the showing. For a change?

New job and school being this next month. In the middle of all this change and newness will be a trip to the Middle East and Bosnia. I am sure God will hold captive my emotions in those places. But I am still at times tired and weak, but not a lonely tired and weak more, but a surrending to God tired and weak. This is the deep breath and closed eyes before the scream.

I Saw You For The First Time

2005-08-08T01:57:00.000-07:00

This morning a few of us met up to go check on, perhaps spy on and make fun of, the new lifechurch.tv location in Gilbert. This was the preview weekend. Over the course of the hour and a half and the time spent thinking at work later in the evening, I hate to state that I saw more of a reflection then I expected to see. I saw Christianity a bit, I saw myself a bit.

There are some things that I *do* find odd, disagreeable with at lifechurch.tv, and I saw very little, if anything, that I actually admired. But for most every crticism I saw similiar attributes ... that I hate in myself ... reflected back a bit. Perhaps I need to take the plank out of my own eye; perhaps God was using this experience to point some things out; perhaps I am learning about differences a bit more, I'm not sure.

Among some of the things I saw were the financial. LifeChurch.tv does go on and on about how important "win, build, send" is to them, about how important it is to accomplish their mission statement of "building, equipping, and sending fully committed believers of Christ," but only 20% of their budget goes to missions/evangelism (this is not different then what the average mega-church allots). They do only spend 34% of their budget on staff salary (compared to 50% at most churches), but that only accounts for 54% of their budget. I'm assuming the rest goes to new churches? Or is that under missions? Not sure. The reflected part of this is that in all honesty, I contribute zero dollars to missions or Christian-body support or evangelism out of what I make, and I have not for some time. I could most deffinitly afford it, but it is a sacrifice I have not chosen to make. This will change next week because of a friend going on a mission, but still. I say my missionary friends inspire me, I receive the urgent pleading email from a friend, I know those who need it --, so in a way I need to become more aware of what I'm doing with my own finances before I become judgemental and hypocritical of theirs. Can I be discerning about sending any future finances there? Absolutely. But judgemental, hypocrticial? No.

Another thing that bugged me about LifeChurch.tv -- and has bugged me since a member of the Oklahoma location posted some rants on a friend's blog -- is how they rudely dismiss local valley churches as being "inadequate" or "not up to the challenge." I understand that perspective slightly, in the most "i-want-church-custom-ordered" way, but when I was talking to a friend outside, having the "i can't believe they dismiss their Christian brothers and sisters that way" conversation, I realized I was doing the same. No, I absolutely do not agree with some of LifeChurch's tactics and style, and I feel the same way in some regards to East Valley, Central, and others ... BUT ... they are our brothers and sisters, misguided perhaps, yes, but there has to be a bond there and connection in some way, doesn't there? There has to be, right? Does that mean support and love? Or discernment and prayer in some cases?

Basically -- I don't agree with tactics, stratagies, cliches, forced-emotions, and all the other things we have come to expect from Christian outreach churches and events. And this place was plenty full of them. The alter call and local church testimonials were scripted and edited to the hilt, but real people with real hearts responded. I knew one of the dudes who responded, and I honestly can't deny or explain away that experience into my gray world of cynicism. This place and others like it do lead you to a surface level faith -- which is not inherently bad -- as long as you take steps to move beyond that.

What happens if you stay at surface level? I don't know. How does Christ look at that faith then? I don't know. But I look at people who stay in these places -- at surface level -- I'm looking at them now a little bit like I look at the Mormons for the most part (and this is NOT intended to sound harsh or judgemental) -- I look at them thinking God will honor them for what their hearts believed. Christ will recognize them for what they thought their leaders were leading them. But those who lead astray or lead shallowy and do so knowingly -- that's another perspective for later.

Phoenix

2005-08-04T02:39:00.000-07:00

I promise my brother I will hang out Thursday night. He is on the phone with me suddenly, the house phone not my cell phone, the phone that was handed to me when I walked in the door of my house. I have not spoken with him lately, but have left a message or two. "Yes, Thursday night is perfect." The conversation continues. Issac is standing in my room, waiting for me to find the wallet that I left behind when we met up at Coffee Bean earlier in the day. The phone crackles. There is thunder. "Thursday night, totally open."

Hang up the phone. My mind clears up -- Blindside is Thursday night. Damnit. I'm going to Blindside I have to go to Blindside they are from Sweden. My brother is not from Sweden. But I have not been to his new house. I have to put my brother off another week. How do I explain this?

I arrive 15 minutes before the mass on-site interviews begin for Financial Counsular at The University of Phoenix. Brendan told me how to get there, just off the I-10, the corner of Elwood and University. No problem. I see it. It is there. Across from the Waffle House. I park. I am early so I can sit still and collect my nerves before being talked to.

I find the door. A security guard buzzes me in. "Here for the interviews?" "Yes I am." Thank you, have a seat. I am the first one. Other people wander in. A few people. Several people in a small room. All the men are wearing ties. I am dressed nice, but do not have on a tie. Damnit again. Why do I not think of these things -- these so obvious you stupid fuck-up kind of things -- why do I not wear a tie to the interview? These are the kinds of things others get right that I don't. There are a few people my age but several older people. Older people with ties. I shaved fresh this morning, the older ones did not. Their beards are distinguished. I would not look distinguished. I would look undistinguished, with a beard and no tie.

We are called in. We all line-up single-file in a ballroom and sign in. I am the first to arrive, so I get talked to first. I am doing good, actually. I am not sweating. I am dressed nice, screw the tie I tell myself. This is going good. I am smooth. How amazingly smooth I am, I am role-playing the yuppie position. This is odd. But it is gliding, on air, the smoothness of me in this setting. I am good. Something is wrong. He can tell I am not wearing the tie. "You're not here, William [my real name], for the Executive Director position are you?"

"Um, no, sir. I am here for the the financial counsular position."

"Yes, this is one of 15 on-site interviews. You have the wrong complex."

"I understand. Thank you."

"Here's the right building -- 3138. This is not 3138. That's the big building a half mile down."

"Thank you."

"Thank you."

"--"

"You can go."

"Thank you."

"Thank you."

Out the door in my car, it is hot outside, not hot but humid, terribly humid. Sweat forms everywhere, my nerves are again gone. The Deathcab for Cutie cd I had in earlier to mellow me out no longer fits. I pop in a mix cd. Yes, the title track to "Bleed American." Better. Not yuppie, but better. Better for this moment. There is a close parking space by the right building. I walk in, hoping to have a chance to compose. No chance.

"Here for the financial interviews?"

"Yes." Why couldn't the last guy have formed that question so accurately?

"Right this way."

She collects my resume. My application. Has me sign some papers. I sit. Good. Time to be still. Time to relax and recompose myse -- "William?"

I stand. Sit across from two people. Questions are asked. Answers given. I have answers. But not as smooth. I actually answer one somewhat lamely, and we all know I answered lamely. And I actually said -- why do I say such things? -- "Of course, I'll think of a more applicable answer on the drive home." They laugh. Genuinely. Is this good? Nobody else is wearing a tie. Good. And laughing -- it seemed out of place. But it was them who did it, so it's ok.

I process the interview. I go home. I check my email. I have been selected for the next interview. Good. But it's a at-home "read this and work out these scenario" emails. Not a problem. I can do this. It is writing. It is applied creative writing. It is functional. It's what I do. But it's forced -- forced writing like when I'm supposed to write about a band's music. But it gets done. It is done. It is emailed. Then there is waiting.

Work

2005-07-25T03:31:00.000-07:00

I had lunch with a friend the other day, and when he first asked me what was going on with me, I replied, "Oh you know, work mainly. Yup." Being the good friend he is, he quickly beat me within an inch of my life until I opened up to him a bit more. I was quick to blame the weak answer for my head being foggy (which it was, I was still on vicodin at that point for my root canal), but it honestly did take some prodding on my own for me to think about what lies beneath the surface. Besides the superficiality of work.

And work is pretty much been the main focus -- I'm working an average of 65/hour weeks ever since I got back from my trip, and I've been promoted to on-the-floor assistant and am also working over in the call center traffic area part time, managing the call flow for the center. And the quick realization that I am coming to -- or rather that I avoid wanting to come to -- is that working 65 hours a week is easier for me then working 40, because I can go to work then drive home sleep. Wake up immediately shower and go to work. The most vulnerable time I ever have is my lunch break when I talk to a boy I like over at Starbucks. And even then I'm guarded.

I tell everyone -- myself even -- that things are going great and they are looking up. They are, in many ways. But in many ways, I know -- they are only "looking great" is because I purposely try not to think about anything deeper then what I am going to have for lunch that day, or what time I'm going to be at work. I'm not exagerrating here. Project Forever things are on hold until the recording gets done (which shouldn't be much longer). But friends are isolated. Introspective thought is isolated. I'm in my own little world where I can control pretty much everything -- and even though it's monkey work basically -- I don't have to live. I can merely exist.

And it scares me that I like this existing so much. Like I told my friend, it hurts to think about these things. My stomach gets upset like mad. Anxiety gets worst. Depression seeps in so damn easily with me. If I stop and try to think about my position and the things of God and where I'm at and what will happen if I date this guy or what will happen if I don't date this guy should I choose celibacy for the rest of my life should I not where is this next step oh look a firetruck that was loud oh just pray about it oh why do I pray oh why have I not prayed -- I get extremely depressed, cry, fear, and just begin to hate every minute of my existane. I'm not exagerrating here. And me choosing the "gay" way is not going to lead people "straight into hell," and fuck off if you're one of the people who tells me that.

But I don't want to become one of those cold calloused people either. Some people are ok with being alone their whole life -- or they're meant to -- and I fully respect that. But I honestly don't know if I have that capacity. Like I told my friend at lunch, I cannot be alone all my life and still be a living, feeling person. I will be cold and calloused, and isolated, and wrapped up in things that don't matter. That's the only defense system I seem to have anymore.

I wanted to get this out.

The Crossing

2005-07-15T01:29:00.000-07:00

So this week I'm all about working, and am doing a 65 hour work week, which is great. I've actually enjoyed being committed and full-throatle about work recently, which is weird. But I guess I have that mindset now because I am actually working towards something in the long run, instead of just living paycheck by paycheck. To those all I haven't talked to lately -- I have decided to go ahead and finish up college (all 3 more years of it!). And I am working extra now to pay the tuition that MCI will then reimburse.

This next year will deffinitly be Mesa Community or Arizona State, and ideally, I would finish up somewhere out of state, or at least out of the Valley, but we shall see. Moving on seems attractive in so many ways, but alot of my life, alot of my friends are here -- and I guess part of me is just in cowardice of having to build a new "existance" someplace else. Like I told some people recently -- I don't mind getting to know people, in fact I love it. But I do hate the process of becoming known to someone else. But that's another story for another day.

During the lulls at work I've picked back up the reading of "Windblown World -- The Journals of Jack Kurouac." I quit reading a while back because the first 90 pages of the journals were so dry, but now -- just as he is finishing the final manuscript for "Town & Country" and coming to realize how much he loves San Francisco, there have been some great thoughts in the book, thoughts that I relate to. Their the thoughts of an obsessed, overly-depressed-at-times writer who still sees the joy in life at a few corners. He is lonely at times and satisfied in others. I think if he was still alive, we could have some good coffee conversations.

And on a final note, I went out to Shared Expression tonight and some interesting thoughts came to me there about worship, and about how "pity" (for lack of a better word) is almost used as a marketing tool at times to "sell" Christ or the concept of service. I'll explain more in another entry soon, but I want to gather my thoughts on that first. And I've also thought alot about homosexuality as a Christian, and where the idea of celibacy kicks in there -- at least celibacy of every physical act between two people until the right time (i.e.--no lust). Naturally, no physical acts of lust should be carried out as a Christian to begin with, but that fails especially hard with a Christian who is not so straight ... it flies in the face of almost every gay culture tradition and homosexual mindset. So this would be something to finally put on the Balcony Above 5th blog!

I may not get around to these next entries till after the weekend -- but until then, hope you all have a great week! Much love to you all.

Is That Why We Praise Him?

2005-07-12T04:16:00.000-07:00

Why do we worship?

In trying to understand something about the human race on a global level I am trying to understand something about myself, and vice versa. The more I learn about people from all walks of life the more I learn about myself, and vice versa. At least I think that is how it is working. Having coffee a couple weeks ago with John and Dean, they brought up an interview with Marilyn Manson where he says (hope I get this right) that our culture is mainly driven by fear. I agree with that -- see that in and out of church. And tonight at work I was brainstorming why we do the things we do, and I came up with Fear, Obligation, Duty (which can be disected into basic love and the positive kind of pride), and Self-Satisfaction, and all kinds of sub-topics on how each can be divided up as Fear, Obligation, or Duty inspired by God, family, friends, work, etc. And plus all of these have internal and external factors (especially Self-Satisfaction .. things we want to do verses what society tells us we need to do to be satisfied). So I could go and basically fit every human activity into one of these catagories, except for worship. Am I missing love? Is that the missing ingredient? And love on what scale?

Worship, that exchange that takes place of our (supposed) heartful expression of love to a Creator really couldn't fit into any catagory that I could find. Am I mising something? Or is worship and that relationship with God really something so special that it doesn't fit in any catagory and/or it consumes them all. Yes, people can and do worship out of Fear, Obligation, Duty, and Self-Satisfaction, but about true heart-poured-out worship?

I guess I ask this on the macro scale because I am trying to figure out what is going on with the most micro scale -- myself. I do not understand why I worship when I do, and it shocked and disappointed me when I realized this. I mean yes, I can give text book and 40 Days of Purpose answers, but I want more then that. As my view of the world and its people and the students of the world expands, I look and wonder where God fits in all of this, but more on that later. In the meantime I pose the question of...

...Why do we worship?

Shrouded in Fog

2005-07-10T02:32:00.000-07:00

This Wednesday we will resume Wednesday Morning Coffee, at 5:45am at the Starbucks at Chandler & Dobson. Everyone who reads this is invited, as long as they do not intend harm to others present, either with actions or with words. We are usually gathered there until 8am, so feel free to come a bit late if you need to.

I am back in Arizona now from my two-and-a-half week youth hosteling trip up the Pacific Coast, and there were some amazing, exciting, scary, and thrilling times. I'll never forget walking down a little-used pathway along Laguna Beach with Tim, Mike, and Kelly and stumbling upon a little cove beach filled with sea slugs, urchins, lobster shells, giant sea shells, kelp, and tiny clams. Or exploring the tidepool area just before high tide with Tim, stumbling thru the rocks being careful not to step on one of the thousands of clams or urchins tucked away beneath our feet. Or showing my friend the "haunted" Mission San Juan Capistrono that Mike and I discovered earlier in the month.

There was the sipping of a perfect cappucino while sitting at the base of Mount Shasta, starring at the snow-capped summit. There were the in-depth talks about life and God with my Uncle Bill and Aunt Evelyn in Woodburn, Oregon. There was hugs from J'aan and Mark at the Skidmore Fountain in the day and a special evening with Ryan LaRue in Portland, laughing about our time in Huntington and enjoying our time on Burnside, an evening when city lights were everything that city lights should be. There was getting lost in the maze of Powell's City of Books, and talking with the homeless teenagers about life on the steps of Pioneer Square while the rain calmly came down. And there was walking thru the Rose Garden on the hillside overlooking downtown, with views of Mount Hood and Mount Saint Helens, steam rising from its core. And the solitude and peace of the canyon bridge at Reed College.

There was the healing conversations with John Chandler and Dean Kuest at their "office," The Spotted Cow, a badass coffee/ice cream/wine company a bit north of Seattle. There was the mutual understanding and love of God present that transcends all understanding. There was the immersion of myself in America's largest marketplace at Pike's Place Market, getting lost in the thong of thousands while smoking my cloves and walking the piers on the lower half of the market, taking in the sights of Puget Sound at sunset. There was the monorail ride thru the city core back to the Space Needle, and the hours spent on top of the city, making out the Northern Lights in the distance, in solitude and peace.

There was the 13-hour drive I made from Seattle, Washington to Ukiah, California, only 120 miles above San Francisco. A drive this long was not intentional by any means, and I had taken an access road from the I-5 down thru the Redwood Highway so I would have the experience of driving thru the California Redwoods, and down to the 101. But the lack of motel vacancies on the top third of the California coast forced me to drive further, deep into the night, deep into fog and aloneness. At 11pm I got coffee at a 7-11, and inquired about the safety of sleeping in my car. I was told that the giant redwood region, or "the Mystic Forrest" is the highest concentrated center of occult activity in the world, and it is a very bad idea. Searching for a motel (that had its sign posted on the freeway), I got lost on the winding road known as the Avenue of the Giants, and shrouded in light fog and 8-foot wide, 100-foot tall redwoods, I had to make a u-turn to return to the freeway in the pitch blackness, and my headlights landed on what appeared to be such a occult gathering. I never drove so fast in my life, until an hour later, at 1am, when on the winding dark road of the 101 through another redwood forrest and more fog, I made out a figure in the distance, and came to realize it was a solitary man dressed in black with a hood on, facing my direction, standing on the double yellow line directly in middle of the highway. The whole scene screamed of evil, and I pushed my accelerator down, driving between him and the giant tree directly across from him as fast as I could, not really concerned if I clipped him or not.

Then there was finding a hotel at 3am in a lit town, my sanctuary of rest. There was the scene 12 hours later as I emerged from a tunnel in the Marin Headlands, just beyond wine country, with an incredible view of the first tower of the Golden Gate Bridge wrapped in fog right in front of me, and the serenity of this fog and the water below as I crossed into America's most ecletric city. There was the love of staying at the Fort Mason youth hostel, an old fort across from Alcatraz built during the Spanish California days and expanded during the Civil War and WWII. There was the meeting of new friends, and invitations to come over and visit new friends. Sammy is set on showing me Israel someday. Simon invited me to come and hop all his favorite pubs with him in London and Brighton, and if I ever find myself in Belgium, I have a place to stay with Sebastion.

I parked my car for four days and became a follower of San Francisco's incredible transit system, utilizing my MUNI day passes on the buses, cable cars, F-Line Streetcars, MUNI Underground, and in one case, BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) as it sped me in the tube beneath the bay to Oakland, where I got some great photographs of the San Francisco skyline. I familiarized myself with Union Square, Chinatown, and Fisherman's Wharf, and took to the Palace of Fine Arts at nightime, where I took photographs surrounded by rats, piles of needles, drunks, and homeless. My last evening there I took to the Underground and Cable Car once again to get to San Francisco's Castro district, the gay capitol of the world. And experience all to itself, let me say. But that night, emerging from the subway in Union Square and waiting for the California Cable Car Line, I looked up at the skyscrapers surrounded by fog and felt the misty rain on my race, and thanked God for this quiet nighttime moment. A few moments later, I hung off the side of the very front of a cable car as we went up and down miles of hills, in and out of fog, in and out of the mist that landed on my face and refreshed me. At the end of the line, I raced towards a bus that would take me back to Fort Mason, and on the quiet walk up the hill to the old barracks building, I quit walking and sat and thought about what I have learned from this trip.

Some of that was expressed the next day in Orange County, with my friend Mike over a hookah, or the following day as we sat on benches at the Huntington Beach Pier and watched the high surf come in. We discussed the tragedy in London that morning, and what we believe God is teaching us. We exchanged thoughts and conversations, and now me and one of my most valued friends had come full-circle from where I started on this trip, conversation at the beach. I'll write later about where these thoughts, discusscions, and ideas are leading me, and where it is all going. But in the meantime, I wanted all of you to know what took place on this trip. I felt it was important.

A Hostel Response to Differences

2005-07-07T13:50:00.000-07:00

It is a terrible thing which happened in London this morning ... as others have posted on their blogs, please pray for the people in the city. I'm in south Orange County right now, and I've been watching CNN converage all morning in my friend's apartment. The G8 Summit is also going on right now in a different part of the UK (Scotland) and it breaks my heart to see so many innocent people going about their day on the tube or the buses, ending up becoming casulties so that an extremist group can send their "message" to the world leaders.

CNN has also been broadcasting responses from all the world leaders on the London bombings, and everyone is forceful against terror, but also compassionate a bit towards the people killed or hurt. Except Bush of course, who just says "Uh, the war on terror, uh, goes on."

I personally feel a bit emotionally closer to the victims of this attack, just because I've been surrounded by Londoners the last couple weeks and we've had talks on politics and other items and have all found common ground. On one night at the Fort Mason hostel in San Francisco, we even had in our room an Israeli, Sammy, and a Palastinian, Hazib. Early in the day myself, a Londoner, and a Japanese backpacker were nervous about what would happen when these two met, and there were some tense moments, but late into the evening, after we all had beer and Independence Day fireworks, we had group conversation that lasted till 3am, and agreement was found, and friendships were formed, and that was beautiful.

There was no room for hate in the hosteling culture, and that is one of the goals of hosteling, for young people from different and often opposing countries to come together and sit and talk and find peace, with the goal that that all can happen on a larger scale someday. Utopian, yes. Simplistic, perhaps at times. But when you see hate expressed on such violent levels from BOTH the "good" and "bad" sides, you can't help but think that some problems could be solved by community, by friendship, by taking the time to sit and talk, have a beer, and understand your fellow human being.

Our Hearts Speak The Same Words

2005-06-24T00:53:00.000-07:00

It's the halfway point in the year and I'm leaving to go on another trip, a trip where I will mostly be solo, with lots of things to think about. I will be meeting new people and staying in strange, sometimes uncomfortable environments. I will be by myself in coffee shops in Portland, and doing some hiking as well in the forrests, eating a packed lunch near a stream and writing some. I am thinking now of leaving Portland a day or so earlier and loosing myself on a trail someplace in the California Redwoods near Santa Rosa. Maybe I'll wear a jacket in the morning or evening, and be thrust with in with a ton of European backpackers in the co-ed dorms of Pacific Tradewinds Hostel in San Francisco.

I will walk up and down hills from the TransAmerica pyramid building next to the hostel all the way to Fisherman's Wharf, and I will have lunch there one day, and lunch in Chinatown the next. I will be spending my Fourth of July there alone, but am planning to congregate with thousands of others and maybe some fellow hostelers at the firework show over the bay. I also want to walk across The Golden Gate Bridge when it's covered in fog some early morning. And take pictures of The City while standing on Alcatraz Island.

I will then return to the place I was born and raised and spend some time in Orange County with my good friend Mike, chilling with him around town when he is not busy at work. And when he is busy at work I think I will finally set out to explore all the secret quiet places in Laguna, Newport, and Balboa. And one weekday I will again park my car at Anaheim Stadium and take the metro line all the way into Union Square and then take the subway thru Los Angeles, and walk around downtown, again getting lost and enjoying being lost in this place.

Like just before I left for Huntington for a week, I am again scared of going off alone, of being by myself. Also scared again of being with people, perhaps me and my possessions being vulnerable. But in this fear is the urge to go out there and explore, to go and see again what is really inside. Out of my element where decisions are mine. It'll again be a learning experience, a time of solitude with God, a time of solitude with prayer and thoughts and struggle. And I'm anxious to see what God does with this time as well, both in the loud screams and in the essence of silent prayer.

Catch27.com

2005-06-23T13:57:00.000-07:00

I'm still laughing. To everyone who bitched about how evil MySpace is, go check out Catch27.com It's pretty unbelievable.

It's like MySpace, but so much more direct on the levels of social packs, trading friends, and hooking up. And you're encouraged to "trade" or "buy" friends in order to win prizes like an ipod. So tip to all the concerned citizens who don't read this ... Catch27.com is the next big thing to be worried about!

Seriously though, it makes all the "sexual"-ness of MySpace look like Sunday school. And no, I do not have a Catch27.com trading card and am not a member of a pack. I'm not good looking enough, I don't think. Project Forever doesn't have one either, there is no purpose.

Speaking of Project Forever and PF's MySpace -- for all those curious (both of you) the audio excerpts will not be up for another couple weeks. There was a time conflict with recording time involving all parties, and I will be gone for the next two weeks. So we can just all be sure to look forward to this, can't we? That and the main Project Forever site will be up in August, not June. It's good to have goals.

So yes my much-beloved trip out of town is just around the corner. I will not be making it to Seattle, and I am very bummed about that, but staying a couple days to get some emergency dental work done was needed. But hey, I'm still hitting up Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Orange County. Maybe this time I won't get lost on the new freeway and wind up in Hemet.

MySpace

2005-06-22T10:18:00.000-07:00

If you have MySpace go be my Project Forever/Churches, Pubs & Hostels friend! The link is www.myspace.com/projectforever By Saturday afternoon there will be three audio excerpts of the book up online, vocalized by my friend Ryan Lombard.

There will be updates there, and here, and at www.jeffnash.com about when exactly the "Churches, Pubs & Hostels" Reading Disc & Writer's Inspiration EP will be released, but we're looking at 4-6 weeks from now. The EP will feature music from Rushing Waters, Ember Coast, Bear Flag Revolt and a couple others.

The book, as said but needs to be explained again, will be a Reading Disc, or cd, if you will. You can pop it into your computer to read, like an ebook. The same disc will also hold music, and that will be the EP as well.

While all that stuff is getting ready and sorting itself out, I will be out of town. Yes, I leave Friday to begin my two week trip to the Pacific Northwest and the O.C. It'll be good times, and I will still blog while I'm away. So until then!

Perspectives

2005-06-21T23:33:00.000-07:00

So perhaps I don't hate Arizona as much as I said then, maybe it's more of a continually-building feeling I have within to "move on" in a few different ways. The idea of "moving on" as I'm picturing it right now is both literal and methaporical, and geographically and mentally. My outlooks and mindset are constantly changing, for the better I believe. I'm torn a bit because I feel like "I'm paying too much attention to myself" when I think about my life and how God is leading it, how I am looking at, and where I want to be. I feel like I'm wasting a good deal of time thinking when there are more important things to worry about in this world. But at the same time I feel that I have to know where I'm at and where I'm going. I have to know who I am perhaps before attempting to understand too many other things.

I sit here now feeling more or less that I've been in a kind of trance for the last several years, more or less sleepwalking through life while barely clinging to God for grace and love in any form I could recognize, and now I came out of that "trance", and I feel there is a good deal of just, thinking and knowing oneself that I kind of missed out on, and I'm looking at everything with a different set of eyes almost.

This awakening of sorts was gradual. And there is this bit of time where I do feel like I am changing quite a bit inside as to who I am, but for now alot of it is thoughts and writings here and there and nothing more. In other words, I don't think that those around me really notice anything different, but I do feel that "moving on" of sorts is coming, its somewhere God is leading me and it's all for the better, but patience is key. Prayer is a big part of this. Listening to others -- or not listening to others for that matter -- is a big part of all this. Talking is big.

But then there's always the thing of perspective in the background. I recognize that my problems are very American, very suburban, very middle class even. I say this because I do put what I'm going through up against a backdrop of other conversations. Conversations like I have with Kevin that remind me of the life-or-death problems of people in projects in Long Beach; conversations with Dave that remind me about people in Israel; or conversations with Sara, Zach, or Jamie that remind me about the problems of people in Africa and the Middle East. A trip I'm taking this Spring to the Middle East will open my eyes to all this even more.

So what am I saying in context? I'm saying sometimes it feels a bit silly to sit here with my comparitively-small problems or thoughts and put time and thought into them, when in global perspective, it's so small. But the reality is that no matter how globally-minded I or most people want to be, these *are* my situations of my life, and in the context of being the Christian gay white kid from the O.C., in that context, these are the problems and/or situations that directly affect how I respond to my life in my "comfortable" world of Huntington Beach and Mesa.

So there are plus and minuses here ... I can deffinitly talk and relate to certain people whom few others would have the "right" to try to talk to, if you will. That has been a good thing, and I do believe God has used that. But minuses are alot too and I'm sure I don't need to spell those all out. I could write pages more about this, but those are some of my thoughts tonight, and I will stop here, and I will be content.

Much love to you all.

Tonight

2005-06-21T01:26:00.000-07:00

So while I was enjoying an incredible to-go lunch from Phoencia Grill this afternoon, my already banged-up tooth chipped once again when I bent down wrong, resulting in pain. A few hours at work was all I could take. My evening was highlighted by both pre- and post-work conversations with my new friend Joey, but pain was the overriding factor, so right now Jim Beam is my homeboy. I have no pain medication and advil does not do a damn thing. So a good deal of Jim Beam is the cure. Please judge me accordingly.

I did spend some time this evening with my friends Tim and Randy, seeing "Saraha," which despite its commercial-film predictability was a good movie. Later I went over to the Thomas' residence, where some friends are house sitting, and I spent a good deal of time talking to Crispy about gay life and gay love, and that was good conversation. We exhanged stories of hope and stories of sorrow, and it was good.

I went to Del Taco earlier slightly buzzed, and for some reason, being at Del Taco buzzed reminds of hanging out in Newport with Nate and Brock, two friends whom I will see in a couple weeks. Before I ramble on too much an alcohol-induced stupor, I will just say that I wish I could transport 2 or 3 friends to Cali and fuck Arizona ... I miss it out there. Maybe also fuck the Pac Northwest and San Fran, I need my O.C. back. Anyway, I would be qualified for several jobs out there (in O.C./L.A.) if only I knew some flash programming, so I'm going back to school (yes, heart attack) and taking some helpful courses next semester here locally, with the full intent of using my newfound knowledge to gain a quality job over by the beach. My reservations are removed right now (or are they ... for I just prefaced this statement) by saying I really fucking hate Arizona. I like some friends here, and that is all. Only other people from there can understand I think. I'm looking forward to the trip, being me, and going home to where I fucking belong.

Another Thing To Read To Waste Another 10 Minutes Of Your Day (Thank You For Reading...I Sincerely Mean This Even Though I Sound Cynical I'm Not...)

2005-06-18T03:34:00.000-07:00

I felt akward standing next to a computer, a few feet from a man who is sitting down at the computer, waiting for him to finish his online registration so he can walk over to the counter and pick up his new car tags, and I can take his place at the computer then pick up my car tags. But he is being slow, and there is yet another man at the counter waiting for his "instant car tags," and he has been standing there waiting for the entire 20 minutes that I have stood here. And a lady comes and stands next to me and she feels obligated to make small talk but I am not sure why. I have my button up black shirt on, and am standing with my head down and arms folded across my chest, and she wants to talk about something. About how cool computers are.

A few more minutes, and the guy sitting down asks the overwhelmed clerk for assitance. The older blonde lady who looks like a Las Vegas transplant doesn't have time to help him, she is already dealing with an unhappy and visibly sweaty line of people who reach out past the doors of the MVD. I have been here a good deal recently, two weeks ago for my license, and last month with Grant Buchholtz and Dave Wheeler and Worth Wheeler, that time when I backed my calf into a cactus outside.

I leave and pass the 24-gym I was going to register at, because I am in that weird amount of time when I don't have enough time to go sign up at a gym, but I still have a good deal of time before I have to clock on at work, and I am only 3 miles away. So I walk up to Starbucks, and see a gay barista there I know holding hands with another guy, and he suddenly lets go when he sees me, but I pay no mind because I saw him holding hands with a girl two days prior to this. At that moment I wrote him off silently, because he is not for me, and he probably isn't even for himself.

But I sit in Starbucks anyway and have an iced tea, and laughing to myself because I know three people in Oxford right now and most of them don't know the others, and I just think it would be so funny if they ran into each other and had a DVD and projector handy. This would make sense in more detail but I am not putting more detail.

I cross the street into work, and deal with deaf people and begin to wish I had gone to Applebee's for something shaken not stirred instead of going to Starbuck's for something stirred not shaken.

10 hours later.

I leave work early with my friend and we go to Stadium Club in the parking lot, just in time for last call. They do not have Guiness here, and a Fat Tire is probably the frutiest thing I can order in this place and not get my ass kicked. There is an 80-year old man doing kareoke to "Indian Outlaw." My friend eyes the waitress but will not talk to her, even though this is the third time he's been in today to see her specifically. I think she is getting suspicious, and not in the kind of way that would make a girl want to give out her phone number.

I conclude my night by trying to make it over to Coffee Rush, but they have closed early. I settle for Del Taco, and eat my soft tacos in the parking lot while listening to old school Cher and being quiet, enjoying the moment. And then it's back home and back to the reality of it all, which is alright, as long as I don't make myself anxious for whatever lies in the future.

Project Forever Bosnia

2005-06-16T02:47:00.000-07:00

I have to say that life is good right now, but let me put this in context. Not good in the sense that I'm like, "Wow God's giving me everything I want and I just feel so safe and secure and blessed and oh look the sky is blue and wow, a jelly-filled donut!" Good in the sense that I'm appreciating each day, appreciating the people in the day, seeing how God is working here and there, and seeing a few things come to frutition. There are still, obviously, some things that suck. There are still some things I'm confused about. And still some lonely times where I ache a bit, but that's ok. God has worked on me for awhile to peel back oh so many layers and I come to a point -- for the first time ever in my 23 years -- of accepting myself for who I am and not being horribly depressed about it. I wake up and I'm happy, excited about the day, rather it's work, rather it's monotonous, rather or not I'll get to do the things I want to do, or rather I have the whole day free. I'm rambling a bit here in an attempt to grab that feeling and put it into words, but I don't think I'm succedding at that so I'll let it be. If you understand, you understand.

This morning started, as every Wednesday morning does, with coffee at Chandler & Dobson. This morning I think we had our biggest get together, with Jamie, Brenda, Mario, and Wendi. I had not met Wendi before but heard numerous stories about her overseas experiences from Jamie. A good portion of our talk revolved around my Chewbacca-esque features (I haven't shaved or combed my hair in over a week and a half!, just for the hell of it), but also about travel. The deal is that I plan to accompany Jamie on a trip during the first part of April overseas (to clear things up -- her husband David doesn't like traveling and I don't ... like ... girls ... so it works out like that!), we're planning on Bosnia, Egypt, and Israel, and I was talking about safety. I mean eff. I watched a special on Bosnia on Channel 8 last night and it doesn't look so safe! But then Mario (who spent a year backpacking/wandering aimlessly through the not - U.S. and who has been imprisioned in Turkey) told me all about how much safer it is over there. Basically they called me a nutcase for going to stay in a few days at a youth hostel in San Francisco. And then they called me nuts again for thinking that Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, and Los Angeles are safer then Bosnia, Egypt, and Israel. Whatever. I'm going for there mere purposes of smoking a hookah near the pyramids.

I then came home and made some final editing changes on my book. I was going to write alot more into it -- make it different AGAIN, but decided against it. My stomach churned and my heart skipped a few beats reading through it all and some of the past emotions brought up. No, my book does not talk about me being gay. Yes, the book will have a link to jeffnash.com where you can go and link to my blogs and find that stuff out. So it's not hidden, but it's also not right for this book format. There will be other books, and they will be different, but there is still a ton of emotion wrapped up in this book. I was actually very taken back by the emotions I had working on it today -- very suprising. But I'm glad it's almost out and done. On Saturday we'll be recording three narrated portions of the book over at Uncontained Recording Studios and then I'll throw those up on the Project Forever myspace. A few things here and there, and the book should be ready in a few weeks.

The actualization of Project Forever is going to take a few months longer probably. I have some stellar people volunteering their time and talents to make this all happen, so I'm pretty excited about it. I'm excited about it because it will open up a great new forum for independent artists -- writers mainly. I'll throw links up to all this stuff when it gets ready -- getting ahead of myself at the moment!

Another cool thing lately is that for the last several weeks, I've been praying that God would bring some gay Christian friends into my life. Not neccessarily for the purposes of finding a boyfriend or anything, but for the purposes of having some friends who understand and relate on that exact same level. This is nothing against the handful of extremely loyal friends I already have -- I love them all. But this is different, and I think all of my good friends know that as well. Well there's been a few cool friends I have made that I belief is the direct result of this prayer -- and the cool part is I didn't vocalize this request to others, I didn't go out looking. God provided these friends, I do believe. Of course, someone out there will disagree, but oh well.

That is all for now. Much love to you all.

New Article

2005-06-14T23:44:00.000-07:00

My review of Rob Thomas' "Something to Be" is now up here at relevantmagazine.com

DayDream

2005-06-09T19:25:00.000-07:00

A friend found this blog and emailed it me today -- jfreeman.blogspot.com It's written by a gay Christian who is actively involved in the local Methodist Church, and from what I've read so far, just has excellent commentary about life. So, for those interested, there's the link.

Scattered

2005-06-08T11:11:00.000-07:00

Monday night at work I was able to take a half an hour extended lunch break and go down to King Tut's for dinner, joining my friends Ryan, Tim, and Matt who were hanging out. Not a big fan of the honey-dew flavor in the hookah, but I had to leave before the second hookah arrived. Had to return to more conversations with the deaf. This generally made that night at work a pleasent one, and the drive was good as well, the radio turning out good tunes from System of A Down, old school Green Day, and The Killers.

Two weeks from today I'll be arriving in San Francisco. Damn, this blog entry is boring. Don't feel obligated to comment -- you'll only encourage this kind of thing. I have nothing to say at the moment.

I'm merely posting because I needed a break from dealing with some html. I got stuff to get done, and it's a bit overwhelming for the moment. But apparently not overwhelming enough to the point where I don't have time for a blog entry. So I don't know what I'm complaining about.

Last night headed over to Jamie and David's Tuesday Night Bible Study, which started a bit early because Chris was cooking us all Mexican food. The actualy study got started over an hour late, but I had to leave in that moment. The people and conversation was awesome, but there was a bit too much of it all, and I wasn't prepared for the anxiety attack I was about to have, so I called it a night. I've come to realize and understand if there's more then four people together, I will be weird. And if it's my very first or second time talking with you, I'll be a little weird. And if I don't take some anxiety-reducers, well I'll just generally be incoherant, sweat a lot, not look you in the eye, and have a difficult time tracking with whatever you're saying. Except in the mornings. I do ok in the mornings.

I was going to write more, but I think it's time to get back to work. Much love to you all.

Be Alone Not

2005-06-06T13:53:00.000-07:00

My heart began to sink just now when a friend called me and told me some news. An incredible guy I know who is a worship pastor at a local church is in jail, on charges of child molestation. I don't know much about the story, and it's easy to assume things we don't know, but apparently this happened when she was 13 and he was 19, and she is now 21 and he is 26, and he is one week into his new marriage with the love of his life. He didn't lie about it, he told the truth when the police inquired of him. Right now he sits in jail, awaiting a court date.

It's easy to assume alot -- easy to assume the episode way back when was consentual -- easy to assume that she comes out now (one week into his marriage) out of some kind of spite or revenge. I have never been the victim of a sex crime so it's hard for me to say where she might be coming from, but I have to hurt for my friend and wonder what made her do this now, what drove her to make this something public.

I missed the news reports that were on tv last night because I was busy working -- but my friend on the phone told me that things on the news were such things as "Local pastor confesses to/accused of child molestation" and "Police are now waiting to hear from any more victims who might come forth." Hearing those kinds of statements rips my heart out.

I know it is hard for many people who don't know the accused to not have symphathy or love for him. However, I know this guy's heart, and all this happened so long ago before he was even a Christian (not that we should not be held accountable to prior actions, but I just put this here to reference), it should be obvious that this is not his heart or his mindset.

Would I be in the wrong if I said that I can't help but see this as some kind of spiritual attack on him? On the Church? On the Body? The accussed is one of the pastors who actually "gets it," who naturally understands people, and has a passion for what he does. And to see this shoot up and--more then likely--permently hinder or block his efforts, that is painful for him and for others. I ask that you please keep this man in your prayers, and I do believe God will know who you are talking about. Pray for compassion, love, discernment, wisdom, grace, and spiritual protection and guidance for all those involved.

Two Weeks

2005-06-05T14:14:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted much original thought lately. With the exception of the new Xanga, that is. All my posts have been links or trip plans, nothing that reveals my heart and soul for where I am at in this very moment. This is not on purpose, this is not a shielding. My mind is just briefly for the moment, at its maximum capacity it can tolerate before going numb and forcing me to fall asleep for a good long time. But I'm also having fun right now.

The reason for the maxing out of room in my head at the moment is because there are alot of cool things happening right now that I've been trying to get done for some time, and that is mixing in with all the normal everyday stuff. There's also the normal dreaming and thinking process with friends. There's been desires of doing ministry brought up while having lunch or while standing around the parking lot of Fox Sports Grill, planning and thinking about where Monsuun goes in this next moment.

There is the building, launching, and bit of West Coast promotion for Project Forever (more on this soon), and thinking about the next stages of that. There is the book. Ah yes, the book. Something that is again being revised a bit here and there, although not majorly, to finally make it something that stands on its own. But it's also odd in the sense that I express feelings in that book but I do effectively dance around what my real underlying issue is. A friend told me that he thinks that story, the one you all know about from this blog and such, is the more interesting story. I agreed with him, but I don't know if it's actually the book or just my own feelings of leariness, but I don't feel that topic for this book. Maybe I'm wrong, but we will see. All goes well with the book right now, it should be out in a few weeks from Project Forever, but as a .pdf file on a cd, not in traditional book form. Again, this is something I'll explain more about later.

So in the meantime, I'm also planning for my trip, attempting in a way to "earn my vacation" by busting out things now before I leave, because I cannot, will not be able to leave this time for that long with that many projects so close to completion, yet undone. So they will be done beforehand. It's my own little challenge, my own little make or break it project with my book and Project Forever. I'm stealing closing blog lines from a friend, and saying, I raise a glass to creativity, passion, expression, and dreams, and the weeks ahead.

Plans

2005-06-03T13:58:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone, thank you for all the Happy Birthday wishes. Yesterday was a good time indeed. After Monsuun's Shared Expression, a small group of us sat around talking and enjoying the evening a little bit, while Brandon spun the new Ember Coast cd, "Up," in the background. After tearing down, Brandon, Tim, Brenda Eden, Becky Eden and myself headed over to Fox Sports Grill, where we enjoyed good friendship, conversation, and beverges of choice on a plush corner sofa. Good night had by all. Great time to just chill for a few good friends whom I don't normally get that much chill time with.

I've spent the better portion of this morning planning my big road trip. I think I got a brief itenary down, mostly situation around when I space is available at my uncle's pad up in Portland. For those interested, here's what I got so far:

June 21st: Drive from AZ to OC

June 22nd: Drive from OC to San Francisco

June 23rd: Drive from San Francisco to Seattle.

June 23rd-June 26th: I'll be chilling in Seattle, the HI Seattle joint looks like a good place to stay. Not so much interested in the Space Needle, but deffinitly interested in the Frank Ghery-designed Experience Music Project, the monorail, and Pike's Public Market.

June 26th-30th: Chilling with my Aunt and Uncle up in Portland. They're trying to tempt me with the beauty and weather of the Pacific Northwest, so I'll take a jog up there and see what's going on. I want to spend some time alone on the coast up here, maybe do a bit of hiking. I also want to spend some time in the city, and JJ and Zach both highly recommend Powell's. I guess it's a bookstore that takes up a whole city block.

June 30th-July 5th: San Francisco. Staying in a European hostel, a block from Union Square. Haha good times.

July 5th-July 9th: Back in the OC. Staying at the Skon Suites.

July 10th: Return to Arizona, with the 115-degree weather. Back to work at relayland.

Yes, I Did Notice

2005-06-02T16:07:00.000-07:00

In a self-important move, I must declare to you that 23 years ago today, in the City of Orange, California, I was born. Even though the cool thing to do is to pretend that you yourself hardly noticed it was your birthday, I've never been cool enough to fit in with people who think like that.

Culture-Driven Life

2005-06-01T09:25:00.000-07:00

Also a big fan of a new blog I found this morning, Culture Driven Life, written by a guy hamed Jimmy out in Santa Rosa, Ca. Thanks to Jamie for the link.

Darfur

2005-06-01T01:50:00.000-07:00

I found this interesting. A New York Times op-ed video piece about the genocide in Darfur and George W.'s response to it. Thanks to Zach for sending me the link.

New Blog

2005-05-30T03:30:00.000-07:00

::Drumroll::

From the lad who brought you the original Blogspot version of Churches, Pubs & Hostels along with the Xanga and MySpace duplicates, the Shattered Blood poetry blog, the private blog (no link for you, sorry), the Project Forever Blog, and the Phoenix One Campaign blog (can't link for legal reasons) comes ....

BALCONY ABOVE 5th (www.xanga.com/BalconyAbove5th)

::end drumroll::

Alright here's the deal folks. In case it hasn't been recieved in gossip or a suspicious email chain letter in which you must forward to 10 other people or die of a mysterious illness within 7 days of finding out what you did in Amityville last summer, I am a devoted Christian who deals with homosexuality. If I know you in real life and have not yet informed you, and you consider us good friends, well, hmmm.

Basically, I need to think true alot of things. I have been the fortunate recipient of some interesting conversations over the last several months, and over that time, a few basic themes have been repeated to me dealing with the fact that I am Christian and gay. All themes distinctly different and all of them I somewhat agree with and somewhat argue with. I have come to realize, that as time goes on, people's opinions and comments -- rather rooted in good, evil, first-hand experience or pure indifference -- do not stop. I need to know where I stand and know why I stand there.

I am not whinning but being honest when I tell you: I am going to attempt to dialouge all of this. I'm going to put it out there. I am fearful, scared shitless to do that. Scared and fearful of being honestly, being hurt because I try to stand on the top of a building and scream my lungs out at all of you to understand something that's different then yourself, to at least understand and love people with God's unconditional love, but I know some of you won't. I know some of you will still treat others with indifference rather or not you mean to.

And I also know that no matter how thoughtfully explained out I or anyone else says anything, there are some that will still not understand, and these are the people who have the potential and ready ability to hurt others with their lack of willingness.

The cross-mixture of Christianity and homosexuality is something that is more prevelent then most would like to admit. But it exists, and there are those brothers and sisters and fellow human beings of yours out there who are deeply hurting because they don't have anyone who truly understands them.

I'm getting off track -- what I am saying here is that this is something that has not been dialouged about successfully in many circles. I will be dialouging deeply about it on that new blog, and being open to you all as I think things out and process. I will still keep this blog and post regularly, but what I want to do will be a consistent dialouge that would not work with how I write on this blog. I invite all of you to participate in the discussion as I think things thru deeply and as best I can, learning where I'm at and why I'm there.

But please, be ready for honesty. Be ready for authenticity. Authenticity IS healthy. It's doesn't always seem that way in the moment but it is needed. And in this discussion, it's desperately needed.

If you have ever asked me to write anything down (there's been a few of you) on the issues of being Christian and being gay ... If you have ever inquired as to where my hurt and easily-ignited anger and near-hatred arise from ... If you have ever sought to seek or understand those Christians around you who struggle with this and how (most) of their minds work ... Or if you are struggling through this as well ... I invite you to read.

Feel free to dialouge with me, subscribe, whatever. Because there's things I'm thinking through ... and I need others to help me do it.

Simplicity In Hope

2005-05-26T02:16:00.000-07:00

Good day today. A little busy, but all very good. Morning Coffee with Jamie, was good. Followed up by 8:15am mass at St. Anne's and some time spent in solitude in the Adoration Chapel being quiet, praying and looking for answers, and listening to that still small voice that, at least, seemed to dominate that small, still room. Very good conversation with J.J. over lunch where goodness and friendship transpired. And to end it off, a very good bit of time talking with Grant over Guiness at Casey Moore's in Tempe. The intention was to talk about Project Forever, but rather, that was only touched on briefly at the end of our night as a topic for our next get together. A few hours were spent instead discussing life, God, struggles, and laying the basis for a stronger friendship. I am humbled and tocuhed by the fact that God allows such people as all of these into my life, and that they deem me worthy of their friendship. And on a lighter note, it is hereby declard that all Project Forever-based discussions take place on Ninth & Ash, my favorite place for discussion.

I Want To Drink Beer With Don Miller

2005-05-23T14:49:00.000-07:00

Thanks for reminding me Jamie and Tim. Wedensday Mornings (it's capitalized), where any friends and/or blog readers can gather for 5:30am morning coffee at Starbucks the SE corner of Dobson & Chandler (across from MCI) in Chandler for friendship coffee and talk, will be happening for the next four weeks, or rather, May 25th, June 1st, 8th, & 15th. Also, June 1st is the monthly ONE Day for the ONE Campaign, and I'm sure there will be something to help out with if you are bored that day. Alternatively, I fully expect someone to purchase my cappucino for me on June 1st, because the 2nd is my birthday, and to celebrate, that morning coffee should consist of a pre-dawn game of Risk, in which I am allowed to win.

The following three weeks, on June 22nd, 29th, and July 6th, there will be no morning coffee, although all of you are still free to meet up if you so choose. I will regretably not be in attendane, as I will be traversing the Pacific Northwest and again visiting Southern California from June 21st thru July 9th.

I am most deffinitly visiting Portland and San Francisco and staying for several days in each place. Some of these days I want to be around people, and other days I don't, so if I don't please don't take it as personal offense, but this trip is also going to be a grounding, centering time for myself. I am CONSIDERING a visit up to Seattle as well, since I have always wanted to traverse the Marketplace, visit the original Starbucks (tear), visit the original Seattle's Best Coffee (tear), and the recent mention of the Seattle Underground on J.J.'s blog (www.dontsqueezethejj.com) interested me a great deal. I don't really care about the Space Needle, but figure I'll visit it anyway just for kicks and giggles.

Seattle is only 3 hours from Portland so I wouldn't mind spending a couple days there as well. I believe/know I have some "bloggy friends" in each city (Seattle, Portland, and San Francisco) so send me an email if you want to meet up, hang out, and maybe show me around a bit in your city. Your helpfulness will be rewarded with a box of canned peanuts.

I will then be heading back down to L.A., I found a really ghetto youth hostel in middle of downtown Los Angeles I think I might want to stay at. Again, for kicks and giggles. But I can't wait to have another rueben sandwich and fries from the Jewish deli dude in the Grand Central Market just to the right of the Pershing Square subway stop. I love L.A. And I will be back in O.C. visting Mike, hanging out with him on the 4th of July unless he has other plans, and shooting off fireworks (you can buy your own fireworks from roadside stands in Cali).

But that's all four months away. We're all hear right now, so let's make the most of it. Peace.

Wind On The Shore

2005-05-23T03:45:00.000-07:00

I am going to be on the coast alot, and I think I want to find a spot somewhere on the Oregon coast and just sit there for awhile and be still. Or maybe I'll rent a rowboat near the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco and row out into the middle of the lake and be still. They have rowboats you can rent. That sounds nice. I have a feeling I will feel very at home in Portland and San Francisco, but we will see. I'm going to spend some time in each, getting to know the people and the cutlture, and stay for several nights in a youth hostel near Union Square. I will wake up and shower, strap on my backpack as I hop a trolly and ride the hills to Fisherman's Wharf. I will eat at Bubba Gump's, and go to Alcatraz later in the day.

But I'm most looking forward to the European take on the city that the liberal environment of the hostel brings. Return at night, enjoy some bread and cheese and wine as is the traditional dinner fare at a hostel, then go with a couple of new friends to get inebriated at a nearby bar. But pursue as always with caution, trying to avoid any activity that will require testing at a later date.

I'll take lots of pictures and post them some place, as I always promise to but never do.

For Now

2005-05-20T07:36:00.000-07:00

A little intermission. A little silence between scenes. A commercial break with no ads for tampons or pet food.

If you have posted a comment, sent an email, requested a lunch, made a phone call, or sent an i.m. in the last week and I have not given you much of a response, know I am not ignoring you. I am thinking. I am trying to pray -- although at this point rather unsuccessfully.

I am also busy, as we all get. With things I am obligated to do (work), things I want to do (planning), and more thinking. Thinking because I'm now very confused as to what was responded to me in context of what I said -- and which contexts were filled in the blanks. I filled in some blanks of my own with you all as well, so I am not pointing fingers when I say this.

Understand, please all of you, that this is not about me verses you, or the Church, or any particular current or former pastor. It's deeper then that, but I don't know how to put that all into words, or if it's possible to do so. But I will be back in contact soon, I promise that, and lead these problems into some kind of resolution, and pray that that resolution brings good, not more harm or misguided hearts.

Until then.

Words Into Actions

2005-05-17T14:42:00.000-07:00

They pastored an entertainment, "babysitting" service and are then suprised when their students turn to even more loud forms of entertainment.

They want students to be real -- but my God, if you go to this church and are gay, please don't look into same sex relationships. Hide it, please, in the name of "choosing a better life."

The pastors themselves have quit or left the church to form other businesses or join entertainment groups when things got tough spiritually within the Church -- or when other opprotunities came along. They are then suprised at the wavering committment of thier flock.

All the pastors and leaders run to join myspace now, shocked and disheartened, begging to understand or join in this conversation. As Dean wrote on JJ's blog, "I'm glad some maturity is entering into this conversation." Maybe if the high-and-mighty had not elected to withdrawal themselves from this conversation when it first started, it would not have gotton to this point.

Yes, the leadership of Central Christian Church Student Ministries appeared severely lacking in the department of actual spiritual leadership and equipping, lest students won't find it attractive and numbers drop. Rather then build a strong spiritual core, what was built was a strong core of entertainment, and like all entertainment, that too had its heyday and is now left empty.

Now kids, do we see the importance of building Church around God rather then around trends? Do we see the importance of it all know? Can you see it? You hypocrites, you who want the kids to act a certain way and whom are disgusted by the myspace antics -- how can you expect these young ones to follow the truth of God when it is something that was never instilled in the first place?

You have initiated a war with culture rather then ministering to the culture, and you never taught your troops how to remain faithful to the winning team while battling the enemy. Now we fire at you, and you fire at us. It is your goal, once again, to leave wounded and dead on both sides of this fight. That is all you have ever known. Maybe come alongside those, maybe come and minister and teach for a change, do what you were supposed to do in the first place if you insist and continue to whine and complain about the fate of the world. You can stand from afar with your judgement calls and proclaim some posters right, some posters wrong, some websites havens of sin, some people "immature" while never directly involving yourselves. Cowards.

Do what you so loudly proclaimed that you were called to do. Minister and feed and come alongside and love those who are hurt and wounded and need it. And I don't mean idle judgement calls and protests of material things (pictures, websites) but actually come along and love the people in a personal matter. Yes it will require sacrifice. But you all always preached on community, right? You always told us to give of our time, right? Otherwise, quit your whinning and complaining and silence your sense of awe, for you who helped to create a problem are still doing nothing to resolve it. Do what you all say you are supposed to do, or shut the fuck up.

Why Yes, They Are Fucking Themselves, Thanks For Asking

2005-05-15T09:28:00.000-07:00

People -- Christians, pastors -- say they want authenticity and they want "realness" but I am now more convined then ever that they only say that because they truly don't know what it entails. They don't want what it entails.

Again, I have been misquoted, again, I have had some of the things I have said (in a different forum) taken out of gross context. I can't say it's not completely my fault -- as I did not put up a disclaimer and I also relied on "assumed knowledged" -- that is, assuming that the people you are talking to are aware of a few certain ground rules.

Pastors speak to others in a roundabout way about my thoughts, my posts, my life and my perspective. When in reality, they just don't fucking know what has gone on -- I am not using this forum as a personal sob story -- but rather as a means to relay what it is to truly be someone who struggles with something unspoken day after day, yet love God and still truly care for the Church, yet at the same time experiencing nothing but a continual fucking-over from the Church in all forums.

I have offerred numerous numerous times, via in person and email conversations, to meet with these pastors to explain and talk in person the actions of myself and those also in my shoes that they claim to "beg to understand" but whom they do not choose to truly listen to. Each time my offer is met with "yeah that'll be a good idea I'll get back to you." Each time, there has been a deafening silence from those who are supposed to be the leaders of their people.

As a result, I can now honestly say that I do not give a fuck about any of you in leadership who talk about me behind my back. Send me emails or talk to me conveying your hurtful status at my proclamation. I do not care. Yet I still love the Church. Why??? I ask myself this daily. Mainly I love it (as I have said before) because of the PEOPLE, the innocents whom you pastors-turned wolf's in sheep's clothing have chosen to ignore or devalue, and therefore driven to outcast circles, drugs, or suicide. I am not exagerrating here. I would name names to prove my point but I won't lest you further humiliate or degrade them or their families.

I am not the only Christian who has sat in your pew or your folding chair who is not as straight as an arrow. I am not the only Christian who has sat there and placed more attention on the thought of suicide then on the sermon. You need to be made aware. Every day that you let your ignorance flounder is a day that someone else is hurt. Christ did not come to heal those who don't need a doctor. He came for the sick. Where are you whom have the balls to earn money from your title when the sick come pounding on your door?

Yes, I fully understand that sometimes you do not understand. I have seen and understood and symphatized with your heart in these situations. It is painful to see reality. But the anger comes from the fact that you have chosen to purposely ignore it for so long. Yes, I will dare to say, the Church was so busy trying to be cool and hip and trendy (ultimately unsuccessfully) and timid and innocent that it lost its hold on that which matters most. Are you all suprised at the filfth and loss of innocence and the sexual immorality that is present on MySpace and Xanga with those so young and sitting in your pews? Are you the least bit suprised?

When the Church gets to the point where it makes people not care about God (by giving them the time of day to listen and talk and pray), to them in an essence, as best they can tell, a moving, powerful, loving God is dead. To borrow a line from the book "Hitler's Cross," "when a society declares God and the Church irrelevant to their lives, anything is permissable." This attitude is what fueled the excusable moral attorcities of Germany's Second and Third Reich.

And it all started because -- and this is chronicled -- the Church did not listen to her people, and the Church and Christians had become weak. The same is happening now. The people are not being listened to, their pleas and cries for help and understanding have gone unheeded, you all finding it easier to kick them out of Church camp, send them home early, so the rest of you could learn in happy gay fashion in "God's" peace.

While this attitude is not brewing the hostilities that the Third Reich did, history is obviously repeating itself again when it comes to the effectiveness of the Church and the innevitable, massive, moral fallout that takes place on a large scale. If you all truly want to understand -- quit talking about us behind our backs or judging our posts from afar -- and begin talking face to face.

El Toro Road

2005-05-08T18:33:00.000-07:00

I always question myself whenever I take this road, knowing in my heart where this road goes but always questioning it's physical route, because the path that it takes for so long is hardly one that I attribute to my memories of it. It starts in some hilly knolls in Rancho Santa Margarita, where I detach from it for only a few moments to get some coffee from corporate-store-that-I-love next to Wahoo's, just down the hill from 1 Icon Drive. Armed with my legal drug of choice, I return to the road named after the long-extinct El Toro Marine Base and take it to my right, whatever direction that is.

I pass miles after miles of streetlights, crowded streets mind you, and to the left and right of me I see the familiar pre-glam Orange County working citizen architecture of Ralphs, Starbucks, Yoshimo's, corner banks with 2-story high Roman murals, and Coco's. I always shop in Ralph's, using the club card that my friends and I signed up for one night at midnight in an urban black Los Angeles neighborhood, buying generic brand cocunut rum and generic brand pineapple juice, along with the Mexican sweet bread that was a favorite of mine as a child in Garden Grove. We took these fixings back to our hotel in Century City, and the Westin Bonaventure was the residency address that we put down on the club card application. I like knowing that one of the richest hotels in California is recieving super-saver coupons for napkins and free tickets to Knott's Berry Farm.

The road before me is still flat and mundane, not much to see, no hint of the beauty that is going to come. The road continues, and I have fallen in dispair, knowing I have taken the wrong route. Perhaps I should drive back to Irvine and take the series of toll roads and freeways that connect one, finally, to the 405 and deposits them on the coast. No. I will keep driving.

Just when I forget about where I am going and how long it is taking me to get there, the road curves sharply, narrows down to one lane, and I am in a majestic canyon full of ecletric mom-and-pop shops and art stores. Laguna Canyon, an obligated mention in every piece of non-fiction and fiction gay literature, a popularized mention in every tv show or movie claiming to examine the "real O.C." This canyon is my favorite drive in all of California, but is ending too soon, and I make a right at a fork in the road, and am eventually dumped off, if one could be dumped off, at Pacific Coast Highway.

I drive north, past the vistas and hills and rich buildings and majestic water and waves, until I finally pass the last ritz hotel on my right, the last cliffside home, and arrive at a dingy shack of a coffee shop/surf shop where, ideally, a fellow Relevant writer will make me a latte and we'll discuss nothing. During this time I pass more little alcoves and hidden beaches and unexplored-to-me-jewels of Newport and Laguna. If all works out well with my schedule, I'll have close to three weeks paid time off, and I'll come back here to explore this summer and live in my car on the coast. I'll buy my food and grill it on the beach, I'll shower on the beach, and drink often at the Shorehouse Pub when I'm in the mood for Heineken, and at the Longboard when I'm in the mood for whiskey and Guiness. Hemingway drank long and often at the Longboard in Huntington, so I'll sit there and write something not nearly as well as he did.

The City As A Storm

2005-05-06T01:22:00.000-07:00

Today I do believe that God spoke some prophecy and confirmation into my restless heart, and reminders of grace and trust. It started this morning at 8am with coffee with a new friend in a well-to-do south Chandler neighborhood, happened again while eating a lunch of soup and bread in the open air of an Arizona spring day while writing lyrical-based punk-rock style poetry that just flowed, happened in a couple other east valley conversations, happened more during chance personal Scripture readings and conivctions and insights during a worship session in Cave Creek, and finally concluded in a gravel lot in the middle of downtown Phoenix well into the midnight hour.

Symbolism has come to mean alot, slowly, but mean alot as I have been discovering more and more of who I am this last month. Today it was hinted that I like being surrounded by the storm of activity, but find peace in the calm middle of the storm where others are usually the most uncomfortable. I agree with that.

My heart and soul were very restless tonight during worship at Shared Expression; on nights when I don't feel borderling bi-polar I usually feel borderline ADD. This was one of those nights, and it was expotentially hard to get any focus in the right place, and I was very much craving conversation tonight. It wasn't the right time for it (it is some nights, but not right then), so I did my best to go outside and talk with God beneath the stars and put my mind at rest a bit then. Now I don't deal so much with a lack of general direction, I deal with an acute obviousness of where that direction is but also an acute innate desire to fight that merely because I am so apprehensive and unsure of myself along every step, and my emotions run the gamet within two-hour periods, and I am so very far away from the person whom I want to be, or whom I feel I need to be.

And tonight at 24th St. & McDowell, I walked into an environment that was very similiar to the youth hostel in Huntington Beach. An eclectric gathering of some people, a dj spinning techno, some girls tripping on acid dancing to the music, other guys in the corner high and trying their best to play trivial pursuit. There was art on the walls, and a table advertising a variety of pride events, of communist events, of art events. I was pleasently surpised by the quality of the cappucino I ordered here, and I sat down in the alley way area behind the building and drank my coffee alone, thinking still. People came up to me, started talking, and soon I was in another random conversation about God and faith -- a conversation which topic I did not initiate.

I learned the faith struggles of a 22-year old Hispanic guy named Ricky, who is from Echo Park, Los Angeles. The kind of hardcore individual who scares the shit out of you when he says "motherfucker" in a certain tone of voice (he was describing someone who did him wrong recently). We talked in the gravel area, and he said some things, some of which included the fact that he knew he could talk to me about this. He was drinking boxed wine served under the table, and offered me a cup, which I accepted. The conversation lasted over an hour, and he returned inside for a bit. I sat there in peace in this city, thinking about the entire day and what has been encountered. I decided to go, and went into say goodbye to new friends like Mickey, BJ, and Ricky. Ricky promptly gave me a "hug for his homeboy."

Come Forth

2005-05-04T21:47:00.000-07:00

Talking to my friend Ryan right now online, and we're discussing my review on Relevant, and I told him that what I actually do produce is only about 20 % of what I could do if I wasn't so lazy. I don't know if it's pure laziness. I've come out of this weird depression time and now I actually have the energy and motivation to carry out what's been in my head for so long, and I think I'm just loss, looking for a place to start. Working nights is weird too, because I'm awake at 6am and wanting to make west coast business calls, not a good idea.

I've been up since like 8am, very good day, very rested. Read alot walked around a bit. Been working on the book a bit too, need to do more of that. Lately I've been in a very much observing mood. But this kind of observation is different. Usually I observe everything and am subconciously writting about it in my head, saving notes for later. That's why people don't usually think of Jeff Nash and observant in the same sentence, but that's because I'm always somewhere else, even though that somewhere is right there. But I noticed while driving down the 202 the other day that I have not been subconciously writing. I have been observing, even partipating. And planning, yes I have been planning.

Planning about moving out. Planning random things -- Project Forever is still firmly in my mind with ideas and whatnot -- but nothing has been happening because everything is hectic. However I spoke to Grant C. on the phone a bit ago, and he and I are meeting in a couple weeks over a couple beers at Casey Moore's to discuss it. All great ideas, I have been told, are formulated at Casey Moores. In the next month or so I'll be speaking more to Grant, Ryan, and Todd about this and see if we can't get a team going. I want to have the book wrapped up by then and submitted for another evaluation to Relevant before then -- don't want too many things going at one time. Having to submit it is one thing, still having to rewrite is another.

In the meantime, most of next week I'll be in my birthland, the O.C., hanging out with my grandmother at Disneyland for her birthday. I was also going to try to see a bunch of other people out there that I always promise to go see (Skon in Rancho Santa Margarita, Mario in Riverside, Nathan and Brock in Newport Beach, Kevin in Santa Monica, Robert -- an old elementary classmate who I ran into last year at the hostel -- in Garden Grove, Sam from England in Huntington Beach, Becky in Malibu) but I don't think I'm going to do that. I'm going to chill with Skon only, catch up. I miss the lad and good friends need quality time. And I will swing by Nathan and Brockstar's place, for the mere fact that I can be jealous of their new place near Balboa, off the beach in Newport ... where we can walk back to their place from bar hopping on the penninsula.

Ah yes. The beach. I always deny the invitations to live in places like Irvine, Newport, Portland, England, and the like ... and stay in Arizona. And then like today, I burn my fucking hand on the steering wheel and the seatbelt and the gearshift and sweat while I drive, all to endure another summer of 115-degree days. It's not as self-inflicting as suspension (which I do not do but recently heard about it ... ouch???), but it's pretty damn close.

Girls, Baseball, and Wallflowers

2005-05-03T08:10:00.000-07:00

For those interested, my review of The OC Mix 4 cd is up online at relevantmagazine.com, link: http://www.relevantmagazine.com/article.php?sid=6312

Yesterday had lunch. It was a good lunch. Hung out with Tim at Pei Wei, I have actually been craving the Teriakki Tofu, but I got Honey Seared Tofu instead. All good. Yes, tofu. I learned to love the stuff (how Pei Wei) makes it at least, when I worked there back in the day. We got free meals and I chowed it down all the time.

I feel weird as I have had two girls (yes, girls) tell me that I am interesting and they would like to hang out this or next week. I have traded phone numbers with both. This is weird. They're cool...but I don't know...we'll see. One girl was from DATA, but it was weird. She was amazed that a guy her age also was helping out for "this cause" and was amazed when my non-prof came up in conversation, and was equally amazed when Sara referenced that I have spoken with Zach a few times (she is a huge Jimmy fan, so yeah). She'll be helping out with DATA at the Jimmy Eat World/Taking Back Sunday concert in Tucson, wanted to know if I was going so we could maybe ride down together, but alas I must work at the relay center. The other girl is very cool, knows nothing about anything about me lol (so at least her interest wasn't borderlining on superficial...well she already knew I was a writer but whatev) and she's Swedish and from Amsterdam.

After lunch I headed on down to downtown Phoenix, and parked and (I was running late) hustled my way over to the Starbucks at America West Arena to meet up with the DATA group and get my exhibitor pass for Bank One Ballpark. I was also supposed to be picking up some promo stuff for The One Campaign because we were going to try to have a table at this ASU party with Ember Coast, but the promo guys never called me back, so that didn't happen. Which is good in one aspect -- I finally get to sleep today (the concert was going to be at 11am).

We got in the ballpark early and set up a good while before the game, so I walked down to just behind the home team dugout and watched as the Diamondbacks practiced in an empty ballpark. I made friends with one of the security dudes over a half hour conversation about life, and was able to chill on the field near the news camera guys, between the dug out and home plate for a while before people started coming in. Cool experience.

To encourage people to sing up for The One Campaign, a promo was put on the jumbotron a bit into the game that when you sign up, you also get a raffle ticket, which is entered into a drawing for an autographed picture of Mike Kuplove. It's amazing the number of people who came up to the booth, wanted to know what they were lending their voice to (not their money, not their political vote, just their signature), and then refused to but still wanted a raffle ticket (which was a no no, obviously).

I had to leave the game early to get to work, there were still three other people working the booth. I left the arena just as the sun was setting and the buildings were beginning to glow, and paused, leaning against a giant concrete baseball across from the Jefferson Street Bar to enjoy the evening for a few moments. I remembered the numerous games Mike Eisen and I had attended a few years ago thanks to the genorsity of a season holder who kept giving me, his Coffee Bean barista, tickets he couldn't use. Across Jefferson Street was the Pheonix Civic Plaza, and thought about last summer's North American Christian Convention where Monsuun had our first booth at, and thought about it more as I walked to my car past the Civic Center loading docks where we came in each morning.

I then drove up to the top of the 7-story parking garage and got out my car, pausing for a few moments above the city. The ballpark roof and sliding doors were open, and I was about eye level with the blinding ballpark lights, and while I couldn't see the field, I could hear the echoes of the crowd bounce off the buildings when the a player made it to a base.

The sound was familiar and comforting, I remembered I used to be able to hear the same cheers echoing out from Anaheim Stadium. Sit out on my porch on a clear and drug-free night in Garden Grove, and be able to hear the crowds from the stadium, the steamboat whistle from the Mark Twain, and see the summertime fireworks perfectly straight ahead, exploding over Disneyland.

I arrived at work last night a bit earlier then expected, so I got my drink from Starbucks, and a friend who works there approached me asking me if the book she found on top of the pasty case was mine. The book was "The Perks of Being A Wallflower", and I took it and flipped through it, and it was filled with hand-written notes in the margins, pieces of text underlined and highlighted. The notes were personal but related well to the book, and having personal memories of that book myself, some of the notes made me laugh and even get a little sad. I told her that I doubted it was left on top of the pasty case by accident, that it was probably meant to be found and read by someone else. She asked me why. I told her to read the book and she would understand. She agreed.

DATA Meeting

2005-04-27T11:40:00.000-07:00

hey guys,

sara from DATA (debt, AIDS, trade, africa) is hosting an information meeting on how and where to volunteer over the next couple months. there'll be opprotunities to colleges, Az Diamondbacks games, and some general around town things. also will begin doing some more stuff here locally. (www.data.org)

the meeting is tomorrow (Thurs) night at 7pm at 3619 East Indian School Road at a place called Mama Java's Coffee Shop in Phoenix. I'll be going, so meet there if you're interested in helping out with DATA and The One Campaign in the next couple months, and if you need a ride or whatever shoot me an email or give me a call.

Also if you have 4-5 hours or so of freetime this week, getamission.com is still looking for help.

peace and much love to you all. --jeff

In The Name Of Love

2005-04-21T01:56:00.000-07:00

I'm tired. I don't want to write alot. But I love you all so I will. Except those of you I don't know, but I probably will love you once I get to know you. Okay this is just sounding creepy now.

Point A: Looks like I may be moving out soon. But locally. Still a big freaking woohoo!

Point B: Come to this tomorrow night: www.sharedexpression.org (directions on the site). This is an ecletric/artsy worship gathering involving songs, poems, clay (not aiken), paint, fire, indoor, outdoor, whatnot that is happening every other Thursday. This is the first real one, even though a sort of precursor was the poetry night a couple weeks ago. This will be rad. Yes, it's in Cave Creek. I know it's a long drive, but c'mon people, deal. Haha. Share a ride with someone, or email me if you need a ride or something. Just don't be someone creepy who only wants me for my black t-shirts.

Point C: A friend of mine, J.J. Peterson, just got back from Kenya (www.dontsqueezethejj.com). Him and I will be meeting up at some point these next couple weeks to discuss the opprotunities for serving and helping out down there. I would very much like to accompany him on his next trip, but in the meantime, I will be collecting what info I can from him, as well as other info from different people/organizations to put on Monssun's (www.monsuunministries.com) getamission.com website. In other words, there is a ton of info to put on, to reasearch and put on, etc., and help is needed to make this thing work. Past attempts to recruit help have not been successful, but it is needed. People are needed to make getamission.com work, and more people are needed to launch another Monsuun project, getaresource.com, so, if you can spare a couple extra hours at a computer and don't mind helping out, it would be much apprecaited. Email me if you can do that, please.

And yes, one more point. Don't mean to overwhelm everyone with points, but these things too have been coming a collective head in the last couple weeks and it'd be great if people could help. Figure I'd go for broke and throw it all down in one blog entry, haha :)

Point D: I've been involved a little bit the last week with trying to help out with some things with the ONE Campaign and Data.org Yes, I was moved to do so at the U2 concert. Yes I've been influenced, persuaded by Bono, yes it's trendy, and yes I'm jumping on a bandwagon. But so what, sue me. People are dying for stupid stupid reasons and they need our help, rather or not it is fashionable or trendy to do so, or not do so. DATA (debt, AIDS, trade, Africa) is a bit short on local volunteers in this area, and needs somebody to help out at some college events before the school year's out, and I volunteered to be one of those people. To make this go smoothly with trying to organize events at the schools, it'd really help if a student from one of these schools would be willing to help. ASU and MCC are the main focus, but really if you are a student at any college around the Phoenix metropolitan area, check out www.data.org, learn about the ONE campaign, and if it's something you can support and are willing to help with, email me. Yes I know it's close to finals, so I am only asking for a few hours, and then obviously, it has to be done soon if helping out for this school year. If not, no worries, help is needed for the summer as well.

So the email for any of the above: jeff.nash@gmail.com I'm very aware that I may sound a bit, "look what I'm doing" in this email, and I'm not at all trying to sound that way, so please, if that comes across, no. Figure this would be a good way for the people who read this blog to help out with some good causes. The most immediate and urgent is the One campaign, because there is a petition that goes along with that (you can read about it on their website). So opprotunities to worship and serve. Both in community. The serving helps others in inmeasurable ways.

I also post this because I know the majority of the people who read my blog are Christians, so let's go do something. Let's get our ass out of the pew. And I feel I must say this even though some will probably hate me for it: I know a modest amount of staffers from Central Christian check out this blog too. Please, I ask you, come help out with something. You're silent but I know you read, and I do love you as brothers and sisters in Christ. Come step outside of the Central world (not that it'd bad, but it's usually confined) into some aspect of service somewhere -- an active role somehow in DATA would be great. Helping with getamission.com would be great. Feeding some homeless people in Phoenix would be great. They won't know you from John Doe or Central from the LDS, but that's not the point. Come. Love.

I can tell you all honestly I've been disgusted at the selfishness in my own life lately. It's always been there, just lately have I seen it. And as I see it, I see it in other people. I don't say this to be judgemental, but as a bro in Christ to each and every one of you, even those of you who may hate me because of the struggles I deal with, as someone who is guilty as any of us are, and want to see all of us have new motives out of love. So -- I've probably rambled long enough and stepped on enough toes with this entry. But these are my heartfelt convictions tonight, so. Come tomorrow night and worship and pray if you can make it. Peace.

Final

2005-04-20T00:54:00.000-07:00

I have been prideful, I have been self-serving, I have been arrogant and ignorant. I unreasonably demand things of others while overlooking what is happening in the lives of other people. I have been so used to playing the depressed victim or some other bullshit for so long that I have forgot, no, willingly neglected what it means to be there for other people. I hate this. I really do hate this about myself. I really hate the impurities, in every form, that I have allowed to filter into my life and settle as something that is ok.

It started two weeks ago, with a lunch on Main St. with Bradley, when he flat called me out on some of the more undesirable aspects of my job as a relay operator (don't ask) as it relates to being a single Christian male. I was not happy with this questioning at first, but the wisdom that a few days passage of time brings showed me that, yes, he was correct. I am making changes as a result of that conversation.

It continued a bit by bit, including earlier today, while on the phone with a friend. When he asked me what was new, I openly told him that there are some things I need to deal with in my life, some serious things, that I have been avoiding. And this is not about overcoming a sexuality issue, this is about overcoming other more serious issues. The fact is, God has placed people in my life who are extending that hand of help. A pastor from Word of Grace, a Christian counsolar I know from Central, and a support group of kinds. I don't want to hear any of this, and I am afraid of going through another season of seriousness anytime soon. Even though I know this season will not at all be like the last, I still avoid it. Honestly, I don't fucking want to deal with who I am and all the shit that goes along with it. Fear.

I know I need to face that fear, and that has been growing on me. That is why I see more and more that the solution right now is not to run away to Portland or Europe, at least not just yet. It is to move out of my house, deffinitly, but stay local, not at all for the bare bones of family support, but for the stronger local support that does surround me. I am weak and solitude is not an option if I want to beat any of this.

Finally today, it culminated in an email I recieved from someone I deeply hurt with my last blog post. There are reasons, several reasons, I can defend what I wrote, and one side of me wants to expound on those reasons. But I am tired of waging wars that fight, that hurt, that make fun, that scar, that leave a trail of bad emotions and memories in their wake. That is not the solution Christ would have us approach with. This person pointed out scarring flaws of friendship on my own side. Even if we don't see eye to eye with someone, are we not called to still care for them? To still meet their needs as brothers and sisters in Christ? To pray for them, love them, sit with them in their misery? Where was the fucking forgiveness that was supposed to be so present in my heart? I am one who talks liberally about God's grace and forgiveness as it applies to the life of me and those like me, but when it is needed to break down the walls of disappointment or hurt or hard feelings in order to be able to show God's love to another individual, I am so good at withholding it.

I admire those I see who carry this torch of God's love much more adequately then I ever could. I long to be like them but I am not, I do not even try. I have been involved in things this week (good things, this time) and part of that is a process to begin showing God's love to other people. And in this, I have asked God to show me what I need to do with my heart to prepare myself for what I see potentially there is for me in the future. It is a painful, regrettable process, and I deeply regret that I wrote what I wrote last night; or have done previous actions that have inflicted hurt or the encouragement of non-love towards others.

Please, listen. I do not want comments telling me what a bad person I am not. I will delete those, this is not a pity cry. And I do not want any comments that excuse my actions in any way, because to be honest with all of you, none of you know the whole story. I do not even know the whole story most of the time. Barring the above, I would appreciate prayers and the like, as I sort through this. Don't post and tell me you're praying, just pray. That is sufficient. Pray that God will continue to direct me, that He will continue to work on the glaring fault lines of my heart.

When you make it standard operational prodcedue in life to block out and flip off anyone who might hurt you, you end up doing the same to God, to other people who need you, to people who want to be there. You don't mean to, but you do.

Week

2005-04-17T11:24:00.000-07:00

Listening to: Ember Coast "Up"

How do I say this without sounding like I'm bragging: I've had alot of fun this last week. The coolness started on Wednesday, with a cool 5:30am coffee time with Jamie and Brenda. After that, I had some time to kill before Tim and I were going to meet for breakfast (I like breakfast meetings better then lunch or coffee meetings lately), so I drove out west on Pecos Road until it ended. It ended up on the other side of South Mountain, and I swear I could have thrown a football to those red antennas that we see over the valley every night. Traffic sucked driving back into East Mesa, but I was content nonetheless, being very relaxed that morning.

We grabbed breakfast at the ASU IHOP, then walked around Mill for awhile, doing nothing. I saw several books I wanted to buy in Border's, but resisted the temptation in favor of finding their $4 version over at Changing Hands or Bookman's. But I don't need another book to read at the moment, I am finishing up The Da Vinci Code and my friend Dave is going to create a good book list for me.

Wedesnday night I went to a time of worship at a small church, and there was only 8 of us there, but it was incredible. No one was acting, and all 8 people were genuinely into it. I appreciated that night, and I think God enjoyed being there that night too.

The next morning, as my last post says, I landed some U2 tickets. The show was incredible. To steal a comment from a friend who described the event perfectly, I will say it was The Fucking. Shit. Just leave it at that.

Friday was back to work, but the work night went by fast. I was lucky enough to get the majority of Saturday night off, and went down to The Clubhouse in Tempe for the Ember Coast cd release show. Awesome show, oh though man, I just got done seeing U2 haha. But awesome show nonetheless. I thought Skyvox and Batter the Drag would be the first two bands, but (the really good) Before Braille was actually the first band. I missed them because earlier in the evening I had been at dinner with a group of friends at Rosie's. I was bummed when I walked up to the Clubhouse and saw Kelly packing his drum set, but what can you do? I watched Batter the Drag perform, they've grown on me since I've last seen them, and at least their drummer wasn't making a drunken ass out of himself this time. That guy nearly ruined the last show, for me at least.

Skyvox I didn't care for, so I chilled with Vaughan, Mandy, Brianna, and Dave outside, most of us smoking cloves and amusing ourselves by the antics of one of our drunken friends nearby. Halfway thru the Ember Coast set I get a text message telling me to "go 2 the bathroom," so I walk over behind the bars and find Kara Thomas and Becca Sipes hanging out. Becca spends 20 minutes telling me what a loyal Ember Coast fan she is haha.

Afterwards, I regretfully had to decline a couple party invitations because I had to go to work later in the night. People had funny reactions to my graveyard hours; one dude made his fingers in the shape of a gun and "shot" me in the head and said symphatetically, "There you go brother." Haha, I agreed.

But the night wasn't over just yet. After making our rounds and saying our good-byes, Dave and I headed over to King Tut's for some pitas, Baba Ganoosh and honey-flavored Hookah. It was a good hookah last night. And a good time of hanging out and talking.

Small Change of Plans

2005-04-14T12:35:00.000-07:00

An mid-morning instant message from a friend informed me that more U2 tickets for tonight's Vertigo concert in Phoenix had just gone on sale....within 23 minutes I was taking the escalator up to the third floor of my old workplace -- Robinsons May Superstition Springs -- avoiding small talk from the old coworkers I passed, and within 10 minutes, I had my very own U2 ticket in my hand. Joy. Tears. But no, no confetti. So tonight I had previously planned to stay in and work on the book -- but um, nope.

Writing, Errands, & Sex

2005-04-12T17:50:00.000-07:00

Writing something is easy when you think no one's ever going to read it, or when you believe that you are never going to perform it in front of people. But writing something you *know* someone's going to read ... someone that has commissioned your services based on previous writing ... oh that is intimadating. I know I'm whinning but should be greatful, yes I am. And no I am not posting this to brag about recieving work, bragging about it in a round-about way. If I get that comment I shall stomp on you.

So while I'm procrastinating on work that has to be done quickly and timely, I figure an outing would help clear my mind. But alas everyone has plans, and I have become the dreaded voicemail whore. Alas my allergies on on the brink of death -- thats all good though, vitamin c is good to me.

Got lots of things planned for the next couple days -- coffee again tomorrow in the 5:30am hour at Dobson & Chandler Starbucks (anyone is welcome, by the way), a possible guitar lesson and church on Wednesday, and coffee on Thurs. Writing, DMV visits, oil change, doctor's visits and et cetera ... most looking forward to the Wednesday night wings and beer session. Missed it last week, but all for good reason. But alas it seems forever since I have been to, if I may steal it, The Wednesday Night Accountability Group. My buddy Isaac once explained away to our former Bible study/accoutnability group leaders his absence from their Wednesday night study by saying he meets with a bunch of other Christian guys and talk about their week over at the Vine. I didn't know this, and the leader approached me and asked me how the new group was going, I was befuddled, and said "No, it's not an accountability group, we just sit around and drink beer and talk about whatever." We don't ask about buddy (buddy = masturbation, cuz, you know, we Christians are comfortable with being honest).

I could go into the rant about oh, based on Acts 2:42 this is more like church then regular church and we're all believers and we're all community and this is community and fellowship and we're sharing together and living life together and oh isn't this sweet where's the bible i forgot my bible oh do you have yours oh no but it is on my palm pilot ok let s discuss pslams oh wait what about esther wait the waitress is coming she might not be christian lets not make this akward for her fuck what happened i spilt my beer on my palm pilot maybe God doesnt like you drinking guiness maybe thats right wwjcd? i don't know what john calvin would do oh look here's casey from starbucks on staply he'll know.

You know you have spent TOO MUCH TIME on relay phone calls when you are AT YOUR HOUSE and you finish a phone conversation by saying, "Go ahead and the person is getting ready to hang up ga sk."

Hmm too many options, but to do nothing would be the biggest sin of them all, so should I put all the options into a hat and pull one out?

Purity has been on my mind lately, of the sexual nature. I blame too much Bible reading, a conversation with a new friend last week at lunch on Main St., and listening to too much "Cute Boring Love" from Blindside. That and the possibility of maybe having non-traditional calls overnight at my job. Not that that happens cough cough but it could. So basically my stomach turns now, from all of these things combined, at the grossest depiction of anything overtly sexual, hetero OR homo in nature, that is expressed not within the confines of romance. Within the confines of romance (again I said romance, not marriage), within the confines of romance sex, sexuality, etc. is amazing and beautiful and attractive, but booty calls and most uses of the more vulgar words for human body parts because some people think that's how you need to talk to be romantic and sexual -- that's below my personal preference of taste. Not saying this to say I'm above acting this way or falling into negative acts or just not caring because of whatever -- I have been there and would not doubt to find myself there again someday at some random time, although an effort is made (most of the time) to avoid this. Just explaining my thoughts for now.

So that's where all this is going.

Chandler

2005-04-11T18:53:00.000-07:00

I don't think I've ever gone five days between posts before, except that one time when I was supposed to go to California, but both my friend and I's cars broke down within a 24 hour period, and we ended up chilling aimlessly in Mesa. It was all good though, Mesa is very similiar to the O.C., with the exception of no Skon :(

Last night went to Jamie and David's bbq at their house, it was awesome. I barely knew but a couple people, but everyone there is so easy to talk to and genuinely hang out with. I even had a cool conversation with one hardcore dude who used to attend Overcome shows as a religion and who has been a fan of Bradley Hathaway ever since he, too, saw him at the Blindside / mewithoutYou show. Then there were other stories: an airline stewardress who told us a great story about a nasty toilet that overflowed into the aisles during landing on an airplane; and another story from someone else (can't remember who sorry) about a homeless man who crapped in the middle of a Starbucks store, right on the floor, haha. This cool dude named Chris did the grilling, he works over at Outback so he had the grilling and seasoning thing down. In short, that whole group has the community thing down.

Purple Smoke

2005-04-07T08:18:00.000-07:00

Last night freaking rocked, awesome evening, incredible people, a fire, purple and pink lights that flooded the backyard and colored the smoke magical hues as it lifted against the black sky. Made some new friends and had some good conversation.

Much apprecition to all of those who showed up to see The Bradley, and to those who did not, I shake my head at you. Shake my head at you. Haha. :)

The night before last was cool as well -- had a good dinner conversation with my friend Ryan over at The Red Robin, discussing poetry and life. Then headed over to Zia Records in Chandler with Tim, to pick up my Pedro the Lion cd that came in -- also picked up Jimmy's "Clarity" album (been listening to a burned copy until now ... haha, hmmm) as well as one of Stavesacre's albums.

Yesterday morning had a good coffee with Jamie and Tara over at Dobson & Chandler Starbucks --- this is going to be a Wednesday morning @ 5:30 am routine for awhile -- so anyone is welcome to join. Come hang out with us for Starbucks coffee and the world's best breakfast burritos at Los Favoritos! Jamie and I had a cool conversation about Church and identifying how we feel about it, and that conversation has spilled over onto some other blogs as well so that's cool. Even Bradley touched on some similiar points last night, in some conversation between poems. So -- this is a growing feeling -- what's going to come of it? We don't know.

So again, last night rocked. It was cool. Last night was also a kickoff event for something maybe similiar? Very similiar? I'm not quite sure -- but Brandon and Tim know more about this then I do -- check it out at http://www.sharedexpressions.org

Much love to you all.

Bradley Hathaway / Spoken Word Event

2005-04-06T00:38:00.000-07:00

COME AND SUPPORT THE SPOKEN WORD MOVEMENT. THAT'S RIGHT FOLKS -- A NIGHT OF POTLUCK AND POETRY -- YOU'RE INVITED! WEDNESDAY APRIL 06 2005 @ 7PM!

As I posted about last week, tonight is going to be the FREE spoken word event up in Phoenix, featuring spoken word poet Bradley Hathaway ( http://www.thebradley.net and http://www.xanga.com/heyitsbradley ) on his nationwide house tour. Again, the event is free, and its a potluck, so bring something! Invite your friends and carpool if you like.

I will be opening the event with a few spoken word poems of my own, and another guy may be doing something after me, and we would all love to see you down there.

Basically, take this e-mail as a formal invitation to join us on
Wednesday April 6th at 7:00p.m. as we partake in listening and
eating.....its going to be rad. We will supply the drinks....just
bring a dish of something, bag of something or bowl of something to
share.

Directions are as follows:
You go North on the 101 until Cave Creek Road
Turn right off of Cave Creek Road
Take a left at Mountain Gate Pass (Street after Deer Valley Road)
Turn Right at T on Cave Creek Dam Road
Turn Right on Avenida Del Sol
Turn left at T on 22nd St. and follow road around to 2252 E. Softwind Drive

Much love to you all! ---Jeff

Love

2005-04-04T09:22:00.000-07:00

It was very overcast this morning, which was suprising for some reason. I didn't expect it to be cloudy out, dreary. I expected it to be a warm, bright spring morning. Oh well. This morning during my 6am break, I flipped around on the tv in the break room and was very suprised to see a picture of Pope John Paul II lying in state, exposed on a bed of sorts, in the middle of some room in the Vatican.

I remember when I was younger and President Nixon died, and people waited 10 or so hours in a line wrapped around the streets of Yorba Linda to see his coffin. I remember this was commented about on local tv, and Nixon officials thought an open-coffin viewing would be out of bad taste -- so I was suprised, and in a weird way a bit comforted by the honesty of it all, to see the Pope this way. It was real; life.

Earlier in my shift I had finished reading Don Miller's "Searching for God Knows What?" Honestly most of the book was just below okay compared to his two previous works -- I did not see what the big deal was about the man. But the last chapter, about looking at the love story of Christ within the love story of Shakesphere's "Romeo and Juliet" was awesome. And normally I don't post quotes -- but here is one that struck me with a bit of relevancy:

" 'I take thee at thy word / Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd / Henceforth I will never be Romeo'

"Here Romeo indictates he believes what Juliet is saying is true. This confession of belief is crucial to Shakespeare's understanding of the proper recipient of love. There can be no doubting, no mistrust; one must have complete faith in the other that nothing is being held back. In our spirituality, we see nothing different. No less than two hundred times Scripture speaks of the importance of belief. "I take thee at thy word," Romeo says, meaning he believes Juliet's invitation, that she will do what she says she will do. Anything less than this complete trust from Romeo would not be love, anything less than pure trust would be a kind of careful negotiation. And careful negotiation isn't love. A person must be willing to be dashed on the rocks or made the fool in exhange for a relationship in order for pure love to take place."

---

I loved that quote. If I ever fall in love with someone, it has to be under such conditions. Even while still in the potential love phase, a level which could be made to be higher then even basic friendship, such action -- the trust, the full honesty, the committment to hold nothing back -- must be present. For these are the qualities I require even in a basic friendship.

Everyone has dark corners, dark parts of their past life or their current life. I know I do -- it should not be a secret that I have done things I am not proud of, things many people do not know about and their are things I would rather not have discussed. However, to refuse discussion is to refuse friendship -- it's as if the friendship (that absolutely needs to be a two-way street) has come to a one-way street -- the other person consistently doing the reaching. There are times when the other party is desperate, alone -- and one party needs to do most of the reaching. This is how I was for awhile, continually needing the help of other people. However, as I did, it must be returned in some measure -- either in like response or in appreciative, heartfelt words -- or visible in effort. The friendship and caring for the second party cannot be held back.

So if these are requirements for even the most basic friendship -- how much higher the trust in a potential love relationship? Or in a friendship that is designed to potentially lead down the path some day? To not have this is to have nothing -- it's to have an emptyness and a coldness. And this is not easily the kind of coldness that is excuseable. Of course Christ pursues us relentlessly, regardless of how much we give Him the cold shoulder. So should we pursue friends with the same vigor? I don't know. Love as Christ loves, yes. Keep that person in prayer and in thought, and be there and be willing to re-engage in that friendship if the person returns, but I am human and human love is very limited when compared to the love that Christ gives us -- so I dispair a bit at my own inadequacy to love completely and unconditionally, but also acknowledge the limitations and do not allow myself to feel completely bad because of this. Maybe that's my own justification.

A friend once told me something about friendships, that I believe holds true in every degree of relationships: "Not everything needs to be told for telling's sake, but everything needs to available to be offered up if it is called upon." More recently, my friend Brenden told me, especially about potential relationships, to "never compromise your values or character just to be able to be with somebody else." These two thoughts stick in my head continually, and I have been blessed to have such friends who so me what this looks like. I guess these thoughts, as well as the idea of complete giving over and openness and honesty, are the things I will value from potential love in the future.

These thoughts are nothing new to the world and are a bit cliched, but I had to own them for myself.

And I'll Be New Baptiz'd

2005-04-03T16:31:00.000-07:00

Divine Appointment

2005-04-01T14:34:00.000-08:00

This morning I was waiting for a place of business to open, and had 50 minutes to kill before the a.m. hour of nine. I decided to drive down to the new Gilbert & 202 Starbucks, and order myself my iced tea, and that -- that only took 10 minutes. There was nothing to read. I sat there.

A customer, a gentleman in front of me in line about 45 or so, recognized me, though neither one of us could place from where. He went and sat alone on the patio, and I sat alone inside. This is stupid.

"I'm bored, mind if I join you?"

"No, not at all," he says. I sit. I soon learn he is a minister, a prayer minister. He begins usuing phrases such as "the Word," and sounds very spiritual, and in this point I begin to feel a bit inept in the conversation and wondering why I came out here. I was not trying to come off any particular way, just be casual, but he sensed something, and he began to speak almost directly into my heart. We talked about God's grace and love, about both of our recent bouts with depression, his marital problems, and my bout with homosexuality (I have never been this honest -- about everything -- in a first random meeting with someone). He was not condemning, he was understanding.

He asked about my tshirt, which was emblazened with the name of our non-prof's program, getamission.com I told him, as he asked, a bit about Monsuun and getamission.com I told him about the other two guys in the non-prof, Brandon and Tim, and their loyal friendship. He knew I was a writer and we began talking a bit about that.

I learned, over stories and also the obviousness of it all, this man is a prayer warrior of sorts, and has gifts that lie in the area of prophecy. He told me some things, personal things. He said some things that encouraged the direction of Monsuun. His words spoke of God's love and grace, and affirmation in current directions. We exchanged cards long after our first words exchanged, and will keep in contact.

I almost didn't post this because I am afraid it would come off -- self-important of sorts. An unintended "look at me I've been affirmed." Self-pleasing. No, I do not intend it this way. And as such, I do not want anyone posting on here in the back-rubbing kind of way, "Oh wow, that must have been good for you," because that is not what I'm looking for.

I relate this story to simply illustrate what I think was something beautiful today, something that may not fall short of a divine appointment, for the benefits of the conversation were mutual to the other party. He was just there at that Starbucks because he was bored, I was just there to kill time as the business that I was visiting opened an hour later then what its website had informed me of. And sitting there this morning, in the wind and under bright blue, warm skies, things seemed like it was in a good direction.

Song

2005-04-01T00:23:00.000-08:00

So last week at The Gathering, Tony led worship, doing a song I had not heard in awhile -- "Wonderful Maker" from The David Crowder Band. That caught me off guard, how some songs do that. I never really listen to worship music, with the exception of Rich Mullins, Rushing Waters, and DCB, and even those are rare occassions. So this morning I am sitting here and put on that song. Yesterday I bought Pedro the Lion and Death Cab for Cutie cd's, but this morning, trakcs 12 and 13 from "Illuminate" fit perfectly -- they are dark and brooding, yet hopeful and committed -- "deliver me / loving and caring / deliver me / giving and sharing / deliver me / this cross that I'm bearing / all of my life / I've been in hiding / wishing there was someone just like you / now that you're here / now that I've found you / I know that you're the wonderful maker."

It's a confession, a plea for deliverance to come out of the dark places. And even on this sunny, blustery Phoenix morning with cool air and bright blue skies, it is a fitting, reverant start to the day. An acknowledgement that God is in control, a bowing to that, a bowing which is at most times more of a striking down onto your knees because my heart refuses to want to see and accept and understand. I ask for love request love but it is love I am most against accepting or giving, when it comes down to hardcore truth of it all.

An uncontainable love contained by words that I am at a loss to express.

22/M PHX FOR $1.82 GRANDE FRNDSHP

2005-03-30T05:02:00.000-08:00

Heh -- does anybody out there want to start hanging out on Wednesday mornings at 5:30am at a coffee shop? I'm always up that time of day now on Wednesdays -- and its boring. Friendship, coffee, and smoking cloves? Anyone?

As long as the conversation does not include you trying to get laid, nor does it involve your lame attempt at saving me from my own unsalvation life (adjust the glasses, look concerned me up and down oh how are you i read your blog "pat pat on the back back" we should talk some time yes let us do mighty pleasure seeing "you" old friend yes you as hands shake and leave but do not hug oh we dont hug but we did last year but yes i do not want to catch gay oh okay goodbye again one more atta-boy "pat pat on the back back") then let us have coffee.

Thru The Looking Glass I See

2005-03-27T15:51:00.000-08:00

I had predicted that this Easter would pass by pretty emotionless. Pretty bland -- a celebrated Holiday that would fall victim to the shuffling of overnight schedules and daytime sleep. The lack of family plans; the lack of my nephew's presence in this house; the lack of a Sunday morning service; the lack of someone to go to Sunday morning service with. I know none of these things constitute Easter, and some of these things are downright self-centered (which I am realizing that I am, increasingly...not fond it it...but yeah). So while none of these things constitute Easter, they are all things that ups the "awareness level" of it, if you will.

I completely forgot it was Easter until some a.m. phone calls reminded me of such. A brief thought passed of maybe going to St. Timothy's or my home Catholic church (even though I am not Catholic, but this is the place on days when I choose to be), St. Anne's. No, I thought, I am barely staying awake these last few hours of my shift. I must sleep. Easter will pass by.

That's when I walked out of the double-glass doors of the relay room and stepped into the cold, industrial breakroom, and I was caught off guard, unprepared in every way, for a long-foreign since of warmth that came over me. By something small. The blinds were open in the break room. These blinds, which face out onto the road on Dobson to the east, were open (they never are), and through this large plane of glass was one of the most beautiful sunrises I have seen in a long time.

The breakroom was empty, and instead of being eerily still like usual, it was peaceful. The sunrise, almost picture-perfect for Easter, was tranquil yet dynamic. The sky was the perfect pastel blue, and the rising sun turned some whispy clouds into pastel shades of pink and yellow. This was by no doubt the announcement of a new day. Something beautiful, something to value.

I leaned against the window for the length of my ten-minute break, and if I may be selfish enough to comment on my personal Easter experiences, I felt God was almost using this to speak peace into my life, a bit of grace and a bit of love. I don't know if it was because I was particullarly exhausted this one morning, or if it was because this whole past year has left me emotionally numb for the most part. But everything felt at peace, and peace in the hardcore sense. Not in the pansy sense. It felt for the first time, that I was beginning to understand, beginning to see things clearly, again.

Began to understand and reflect upon God's love a bit more at that window. When I feel love, any kind of love, it scares me a bit because on some level, I don't feel justified to recieve it. Even though I have love to give in return. But for those ten minutes at the window, that didn't seem to matter anymore.

Unrelated but not really: distance is an enemy that will one day be conquered.

That works on different levels. Chew on that. Anyway, much love to you all. Till later days.

Dawn

2005-03-25T07:18:00.000-08:00

Ended the night with last night with a couple-hour long conversation with a new friend. That was very cool. Went to bed. Woke up a few hours later.

Started the morning with a fairly flustrating conversation at 5:30am at the intersection of Power & McDowell ... with an elder at my old church ... a person I admire and respect. The conversation itself was not flusterating I guess you could say, but rather the feelings it brought up. Things I'm tired of thinking about. And I couldn't bring it up fully ... the details of why it was so flusterating ... because the environment wasn't right ... and I know this person's attitude towards certain struggles pretty well. His stance does not deminish my respect for him at all, but it's rather a hard conversation that would be better saved for a latter date and time if it turns out that it is a conversation we must have.

So at 5:45am, I went for a pre-dawn drive through the desert. Through the rain. The dark clouds gradually became shades of green and blue, and the shadow of Red Mountain was intimadating at this hour. I was the only one on the road. I had the desert to myself at sunrise. That helped clear my head. Did some thinking, did some praying, did some listening to "23" over and over.

Then I ran some errands to MCC and Staples, and back home by 7:30am. Walked around MCC Red Mountain a bit. Stood in the misty rain while watching some cotton tail rabbits run away from some brush inexplicably. Then stood still as possible as a coyote came towards that brush, 30 feet away with me nowhere to go haha. But I watched it. It saw me. But it was cold and raining and I was just there and I think it understood that.

Go hug someone today.

projectforever

2005-03-24T09:32:00.000-08:00

I don't really like anything past the first chapter. And even a few parts of that. Chapters 3, 5, and 6 all have their individual good qualities. So I am changing things. Again. I think I took some of the emotions out a bit, but now can see things clearer. Basically, I can do better. I know I know. I need to pronounce it finished some day.

Someday I will. I'm still keeping the current "final version" in tact. In case the new version is worst, or in case a publishing house like Relevant comes back to me in a year. And says they want the old version. Still.

I can write just as good as some of the current trendy authors. If not a little better. I'll aim for a little better with "Churches, Pubs & Hostels." I hope that sounds egotistical. I really do.

I am also no longer looking into the idea of self-publishing this book. I will improve it, and search for an agent in the process. Yes, Project Forever Written Word still exists as a concept -- but for another project in my mind down the line. Not for this book.

I am working on several writing projects right now. A short story that's a fictionalized version (maybe! depends on whom I want to tell what really happened) of the night walking around downtown Phoenix in the rain and discovering an artistic keg party on a roof. A book. Maybe another. Oh I can list all of these how pretenious would that be! How egostistical of me to say what I'm really working on, because people will then stop talking to me. Afraid I will exagerrate to them, or at worst, use their conversations with me in a book. Which I am. Each and every one of you! Ok not every one of you, but that does make for exciting possibilities! Oh the possibilities!

I think I'm a bit neurotic at times.

Sex is still on my mind for the last several days.

Bradley Hathaway is Coming to Phoenix

2005-03-23T15:19:00.000-08:00

PLEASE GET THIS OUT!!!

Yo guys. This one is for everyone who lives in AZ. Me and couple friends are going to be hosting in in-home potluck spoken word poetry event. And we want everyone to come. The poetry will be spoken by an awsome guy named Bradley Hathaway. Check him out at www.thebradley.net . If any of you can please help support us in putting on this gig that would be awsome. Its free so there are no money excuses. Here are the details.

When-
April 6th @ 7:00 PM

Where -
2252 E. Softwind Dr.
Phoenix AZ, 85204

What to bring -
Its a potluck.....so something with pot....ok not really, but do bring food to share with people.

What can you do to help -
First - Post this info on your own blog for everyone to see
Second - Word of mouth Advertising
Third - Other forms of communication to tell of this event
Fourth - COME JOIN US

Guys I really do believe in this guy and the ministry he has to offer. Bradley and his spoken word material are awesome, and this will be an incredible time. You guys need more info shoot me an email at jeff.nash@gmail.com

Thanks,

Jeff Nash

The Cubicle Diaries Part I

2005-03-19T16:21:00.000-08:00

So this 10-hour work shift is kind of odd, especially since it's at night. Feel like my pure focus of life for 4 days a week is work at night then sleep all day. Today I started what will hopefully be a ritual after I leave work, and that is to go directly to the gym and workout a bit before going home, showering, and crashing for the following seven hours.

I don't dislike this shift though, even though it has it's oddities, because it's providing some time structure that is actually quite nice. I've been able to attend The Gathering at Word of Grace the last few weeks on Sunday nights before work, so that's been an added bonus. I look forward to that. I'm going to go see my friend Dave preach tonight over at Central. With all my heart I don't want to go there this week (I know I'm bi-polar when it comes to my feelings for that place), but I promised him I would go, and I do want to see his lesson -- just not neccessarily see his lesson there.

A nice redeeming factor of the work week at MCI (aka the assurance that I am accomplishing more then earning a paycheck for selfish reasons and sleeping) is the time it's allotted me to read, and think. Last night/this morning I finished Nouwen's "The Road to Daybreak," which I absolutely loved. Very encouraging book. I also finished the last few stories of "Backpacking thru Europe," a book that Jeramy loaned me a bit ago (I need to get this book back to him since he is leaving for Europe soon. The bastard!). Almost finished with "Stranger at the Gate," would have finished it last night, but a bunch of people chose to sit in cubilcles right around mine, and I didn't feel totally comfortable at the moment to get into a "oh what are you reading?" conversation with that book, so I will finish it tonight. Instead I picked up and got half-way thru "Forest for the Trees: An Editor's Advice to Writer's" which is proving to be a great book of advice for us, well, writers.

My next book lined up for reading is a Don Miller book. Yes, John will be happy to know I gave-in and actually purchased my very own copy of "Searching for God Knows What." I was reading Don Miller before it was uber-Christian trendy to do so (like the month "Prayer and the Art of Volkswagon Maintenence" originally came out), loved "Blue Like Jazz," and will certainly be buying his next two books, "To Own A Dragon" and "Thru Painted Desserts", so I didn't feel it to be right to totally exclude this book. I will read it with an open mind. :)

All this reading while writing a couple poems and doing my music homework (the non-guitar part of course).

My last two blog posts have been about Christian thoughts, and now I've written a whole entry about cubicles and what I'm reading. Sorry guys. That's not usually me. I'll try to take a hostel trip to somewhere soon to spice things up.

But all of this to say, I need some reading reccomendations. I'm thinking of "God's Politics" maybe or something by Keurorac, or maybe not. Basically I have all this time to read and think, this year or 14 months or so before I leave on my backpacking trip, so if I could read something to enlarge my understanding of God or the human experience or something, that'd be cool. Ideas? Reccomendations? Gift cards or Changing Hands Bookstore discounts? :)

Well that's my exciting existance at the moment. Hope all is well with with everyone else. Much love to you all.

Request

2005-03-18T00:35:00.000-08:00

I can feel God slowly drawing me in these last couple weeks. Actually I can see it for the last several months, with friends and invitations to Bible studies and new people who have come into my life to support me and come alongside me in understanding. But I've been feeling it most hardcore for the last couple weeks. Especially in reading this book, "Stranger at the Gate" and into some new conversations. Discovering what I'm comfortable with and what I'm not comfortable with when it comes to be a Christian, and even when it comes to being gay.

For example, I go into most churches and am immediately uncomfortable by the pretinousness of it all--by the staged and very directed prideful attitude of the people and the the same from the general feeling that exhales from the place.

I felt the same way Wedenesday night when I went into my first gay establishment, a gay restaurant near Central & Camelback. I went with friends. One straight, one a flamer. I am not straight. I am not a flamer. The place was a bit flaming. I was nervous walking in--not knowing at all what to expect. But it was a normal restaurant--and I found the whole place to be very interesting on a level, but not someplace that I would frequent. In fact, not someplace I'm likely to go back to, just because the food wasn't that good and the atmosphere was very faux and flaming. Nothing against those individuals, just not my thing personally.

My gay friend I went with, who is a dear friend I have known for many years, wants me to come to Phoenix Pride Weekend with him next month. He sees it as my duty. I will likely go one day, just to see what it's all about. But will I like it? I don't know--my mind is open, but we'll see. What I'm basically saying is that I think I have been cornored into a weird position--I don't belong in most Church settings, don't belong in most gay settings, and ironically, it's because I see the same self-serving pride in both.That's right, I'll say it, I'm comparing the Church to the flaming gay scene.

I have been blessed the last couple days with the opprotunity to form a new friendship with another Christian homosexual via Xanga and AIM. He has just met someone who is like him, and I am extremely happy for him, and a tad on the jealous side, but jealousy in a good way. Anyway, we were talking about Fred Phelps, the famous pastor of the Westboro Community Church and the "God Hates Fags" campaign. I asked my new friend if there were any leaders out there for the gay Christian segment. He said no, and that we are not allowed to have those--because the work of the Lord must be done in silence, below the noise. He went on to explain and illustrate that it's ok to rebuke and call out such Pharisees, but to do so without bringing attention, fame, or earthly glory to ourselves. I agree with this. People need to see Christ clearly, not Jeff Nash or Cal Jernigan or Billy Graham or Pope John Paul II.

So, as a writer who is placed in the unique situation of dealing with homosexuality while being a Christian and having a heart for the Church and wanting to do something impactful but not self-glorifying but fighting against the selfish quest for recognition that all of us fight against, what do I do? Is there a story I should write? A movement to start? A few people to talk to in silence and love? None of this? These are my questions and prayers. I do feel the issues of pride and hate need to be addressed withhin the Church (not just against homosexuals but in general), and I also feel that hope needs to be brought to homosexual Christians (we don't need another suicide by one who thinks its impossible to live), and I feel led to begin being in prayer about this and how to handle this.

Failure to pray and act on those prayers, I think, would be rejecting my part in the Body of Christ. Rejecting my part of being a relational human. If I may take liberty in saying so--I think this is somewhere along the lines of the burden/mission/opprotunity that God has placed before me for my life.