born again / holy matrimony

You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life.

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The modern sense of citizenship is usually based on one or more of these factors:

• Parents are citizens. If a person has one or both parents who are citizens of a given state, then the person may be a citizen of that state as well. ^[a]Citizenship granted in this fashion is referred to by the Latin phrase jus sanguinis meaning "right of blood" and means that citizenship is granted based on ancestry or ethnicity, and is related to the concept of a nation state common in Europe. A person could be born outside of the physical territory of a country, but if his or her parents are citizens, then the child is a citizen as well. States normally limit the right to citizenship by descent to a certain number of generations born outside the state. This form of citizenship is common in civil law countries.

• Born within a country. Many people are presumed to be citizens of a state if they were born within its territory. Citizenship granted in this fashion is referred to by the Latin phrase jus soli meaning "right of soil". This form of citizenship is common in common law countries and originated in Englandwhere those who were born within the realm were subjects of the king.

• Marriage to a citizen. Citizenship can also be obtained by marrying a citizen, which is termed jure matrimonii.

• Naturalization. States normally grant citizenship to people who have immigrated to that state and have resided there for the given number of years. Sometimes aspiring citizens may have to pass a test, swear allegiance to their new state and renounce their prior citizenship.

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People seem to have this idea of Jesus as being a super chill, tolerant hippie/yuppie type figure because he hung out with dirtbags, prostitutes and tax-collectors and didn't care what people said about him or about tarnishing his reputation - because he treated these untouchables, these personae non gratae like regular people. But don't forget that Jesus overturned them temple tables when he saw people gambling in there and said some pretty nasty and harsh things to the pharisees (to be fair tho they were asking for it). He was not one to sugar-coat his words. If you came to him with a question, he'd answer you, and depending on your temperament - what you're expecting to hear, what you've heard too often - he'd phrase it a certain way - maybe as a parable, maybe as an intervention, maybe as a miracle, maybe as an accusation. Not what you want to hear, but what you need to hear and in the way you need to hear it. He isn't the politician. He isn't the person who laughs and shrugs and strives to always give a diplomatic answer. What he said often upset people - to the point of murderous mob formation. Basically what I'm trying to say is, when you're thinking 'what would Jesus do?' make sure you're thinking of the real Jesus and not the watered-down hippie version of him.

the want of the ocean

it's not real till I write it down

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I don't know what it is about the sea. The first thing I think of when I think of the sea is always the vague image of something dark and moody, brooding and impenetrable, not unlike the enigmatic eyes of a person who is slowly dying. That changeless, unshakeable tranquility that comes after complete despair. Maybe it's because I have never seen something that could compare in terms of sheer immensity, except perhaps the sky. But of course the sea differs in that it has so much density. So much more pent-up energy quivering and quaking and shivering between its particles. How much of it there is and how little of it we can see - perhaps that's its most bewitching, most captivating quality.

once a tourist / they give you a flag

when your husband dies
they give you a flag to hold
onto instead

it doesn't fly, it
just hangs in your hands like
a stillbirth or telegram

so you carry it home
and it just lies there
wingless and waiting

for you to do something
but you don't know
whether to hang it up
or wear it

around your neck
and the worst part
is telling the kids

daddy's dead
they don't give you words
they give you a flag

kakakata-kataomoi

He loved her in a simple, painless sort of way. They enjoyed each other like consumable goods -- a romantic movie. transient. meaningless. disposable. He was blessed with astounding wit and intellect, which quickly earned him a scholarship to a prestigious university overseas, but for reasons unknown to me, he chose instead to stay and obtain a degree from a nearby and much less prestigious local university - from which I also graduated. In the winter of 1989, the year we both entered university together, I attended his father's funeral. Though our families had grown considerably apart, the rumours of estrangement had somehow found their way into our household and dominated our thoughts as, throughout the ceremony, my sisters and I watched him intently for any signs that may have corroborated or dissipated the veracity of these allegations - but to no avail. The exercise was met with as much success as drawing blood from a mannequin. There was nothing in his countenance or manner to suggest the merest measure of emotion. He clutched a white bouquet, sat like a statue throughout the songs and weeping, and when the preacher had finished he simply stood, disposed of the flowers and left. That was the last anybody saw of him for a while.

In the summer of 1991, we met again by chance in the alcohol-ridden, beer-stained basement of some social gathering. He was president of the debate team, while I dabbled in journalism, doing freelance work for the university paper. He greeted me like an old friend, with teeth and laughter, as though we had been clasped in friendship since birth - abandoning the string of pretty girls that surrounded him, he led me to a quiet, earnest corner and we began to converse. We talked over many petty, inconsequential things, and by the end of it concluded a mutual, manifest desire to keep in touch. He was still every bit as scintillating and clever as I had remembered, but also somewhat less likable. He had seemingly resolved to dress his thoughts and actions with an elaborate sense of aristocracy and adopted a manner of clever composure that many, including I, found infuriating at times; I suppose in this way they were similar. His mistress - I suppose that is the most accurate word - carried herself with a certain haughtiness that only girls who get told they are pretty are privy to and possessed the shrillest laugh you can imagine. She did not seem to mind rumours of their relationship. In fact, she seemed to relish it. The night he introduced her to me, she wore a sinful, indiscriminate smirk and a vapid amusement in her eyes comprised entirely, I suspect, of scandal and smoke. Her hand perched garishly upon his shoulder as he attended her with a tired, perfunctory charm. She was dainty in the cruelest sense of the word - a fact I assume he chose to ignore, among others - and when i looked at them i scarcely knew whom to feel more sorry for.

something is taking its course

birthday, freedom and a wake. it's been a busy past few days; not quite sure what to make of it yet

fall

now you are looking at me with empty eyes -- with rain and autumn in your smile. my arms clench tight around your waist as the waters rise to pull you down