"This windy evening finds me black of mood and bleak of outlook, despite my best efforts at a lightening of soul. Here in the City of Angels I find myself wondering "Where are they, these winged harbingers of hope and light?" I listen carefully, yet hear no flutter of seraphemic wing; I watch the horizon for a glimpse of the dawn on their golden breastplates, but see only darkness; I search the city for signs of their divine governance, and find only chaos and sorrow. Here in the City of Angels is only madness and anger, the surest sign that all is not well. There is much to be seen here, and most of it is frightening. Forgive us father, for we know not what we do."
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
I Don't Remember Writing This...
I started working on a new post last night, and I saved it as a draft before hitting the sack. This morning, when I went to continue working on it, I found the following post way down at the bottom of the list. This was written while we lived in Los Angeles, and although I have no memory of exactly when (or why) I wrote it, it should give you some clue as to what it was like there.
"This windy evening finds me black of mood and bleak of outlook, despite my best efforts at a lightening of soul. Here in the City of Angels I find myself wondering "Where are they, these winged harbingers of hope and light?" I listen carefully, yet hear no flutter of seraphemic wing; I watch the horizon for a glimpse of the dawn on their golden breastplates, but see only darkness; I search the city for signs of their divine governance, and find only chaos and sorrow. Here in the City of Angels is only madness and anger, the surest sign that all is not well. There is much to be seen here, and most of it is frightening. Forgive us father, for we know not what we do."
"This windy evening finds me black of mood and bleak of outlook, despite my best efforts at a lightening of soul. Here in the City of Angels I find myself wondering "Where are they, these winged harbingers of hope and light?" I listen carefully, yet hear no flutter of seraphemic wing; I watch the horizon for a glimpse of the dawn on their golden breastplates, but see only darkness; I search the city for signs of their divine governance, and find only chaos and sorrow. Here in the City of Angels is only madness and anger, the surest sign that all is not well. There is much to be seen here, and most of it is frightening. Forgive us father, for we know not what we do."
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3 comments:
wow... glad you are raising your family in Washington!
Awesome picture. Saved it as my desktop background.
Thanks, Exciter, but I can"t take credit for the picture. I found it online and it suited my purposes.
Do I know you, by the way? I assume you are not Jack Nicholson, despite the bandaged nose in your profile picture.
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