Tag: muse

On the Porch

James HoganLeave a comment

It is at times like this that I wish my pen wrote with richer ink. It is a sad thing that so often does my mind take flight and dream on the sublime in the moments when the cares of life swoop in and remind me of other more meaningful tasks on which I really ought spend my time. Of course yes, it would be lovely to write. But shouldn’t you start dinner prep? The carrots and potatoes will not chop themselves, oh no. And what is that you say? You have a poem running through your mind that you’d like to put down to page? Well, I hope you have a decent enough memory, for now it’s time to take the car to the shop and take care of that nagging issue you’ve neglected for far too long. Why is it that the time which then presents itself finally for a creative purpose is then taken up by conversations with loved ones? Of course they are far more important than the words you wish to enshrine in this moment for eternity. Aren’t they? One can acknowledge the truths of which I’ve said above, but still the heart weeps for the lost moments. But are they lost? The moments of life, of chopping vegetables on the cutting board, of driving a creaking vehicle through the quiet autumnal beauty of the late afternoon, of laughing as your sister tells you of the absurdity of her day – are not all these the precious sands upon the shores that your feet walk day to day as you breathe deep this salt air and look to the brilliant blue of heaven? I would argue that to hunker down and bunker oneself in that longed for cottage on the English coast in order to write your magnum opus would in fact be a cutting off of self and denying those little moments that thrill the soul even if in the moment they seem just the same old same old ordinary ticks on the calendar that seems to never get any less full. A foundation has been laid and now the bricks are being laid on quietly but surely. These bricks are laid with care and each one lovingly put in its proper place. Without such bricks, what is the setting but a cold marble portico upon which a banquet of plastic dreams is cunningly set forth? No I shall not abandon this simple life. I will keep on laying brick after humble brick.

Still yet. Can we not find rich beauty in these small mundane moments? I would argue so, even now as I wait for my love to walk back through this door and cheer me with her voice this quiet November night.

Soliloquy

James HoganLeave a comment

I haven’t written here in a few days, partly because I wanted to make sure this entry was reserved for something special. Because, believe it or not, this is the 500th entry of this livejournal. And I had thought on waxing grandiosely on the history of my writing career or maybe discussing the merits of inscribing portions of our lives on such a public forum as this…but no. No ponderous essay for this beautiful Friday night! As the sun goes down…before I dive into my dinner of leftover spaghetti, I shall just write a little of my heart. Enjoy or not, but either way – just know that I love y’all so.


He opened the door and the thrumming music met the curtain of raindrops draped around his head. As he stepped over the pale metal threshold into warmth and light, he shook the water off his boots and closed the door firmly behind him. Leave the rain outside where it belongs. He took off his hat and shook it as well. It would still be wet, but at least it wouldn’t be dripping in his face. As he lifted his head, his eyes darted around the cozy confines of the cantina. It was a wet and dreary night and so predictably, Brother K’s was packed solid. Two huge men in plastic overcoats sitting at the bar. Table in the corner full of chattering girls, each with different colored hair – red and blue and yellow and purple. Red Hair met his eyes as they swept across her and raised her eyebrows in silent greeting. Table next to the girls had a lone couple, each with a drink in front of them and an electromag at their side. They’d be playing tonight. Table to his right was full of men just off from the refinery. They’d changed their clothes but the stink of chemoflume couldn’t be erased so easily. Table in the corner by the plasteen slots had a few musicians sitting around it, hands protective of their hardware. Table. People. Table. Music. Table. People. All thinking their own thoughts and lost in their own music.

He hit his hat against his side again to shake the last of the damp from it and smiled to himself. More than twenty people, and not a one matched the description.

As he finally stepped away from the door and toward the bar, he heard his name through the swirling tonal storm.

He waved towards the girl at the bar and stepped up to it. “Mittens, how’s things?”

She smiled wryly, “Situation normal. Nothing yet. And you’re late.”

He smiled back. “Hey, I had to make sure the perimeter was secure. Where’s Aeryn? And nice outfit.”

Mittens crinkled her nose at him, “It’s cute. And it blends in!” She did a little spin, showing off her pink shorts and brown corduroy jacket. The jacket did complement her hair and flared off her hips per the fashion du jour.

He shook his head, grinning, and said, “Duty, Mittens.”

She sighed, “You’re no fun, Jim.” As she opened her mouth to speak again, she shut it. Frowned. “Where’s Aeryn going?”

Jim looked past her shoulder to see Aeryn slipping out the door, fedora firmly planted over her flowing locks. “Must have seen something. Don’t worry. She can take care of herself.”

Mittens nodded. “She’s got heat. Still…it’s not protocol.”

Jim laughed. “She’ll be fine. Anyway, aren’t you going to play? We could use a distraction.”

Mittens grinned. “Yeah. It’s one of your favs. Watch my back.”

Jim smiled, nodding. He watched Mittens walk to the back of the bar and haul out her wooden monstrosity. He bet half the people here hadn’t ever seen an actual stringed instrument in real life. As she stepped up to the stage – in actuality only the one space of floor that didn’t have a table latched to it – the music dimmed, then shut off entirely. The barmaid had seen Mittens apparently. Brother K’s was known for good live music, and that reputation attracted those that cared for music of a higher caliber than synth nonsense.

The crowded cantina hushed and Mittens strummed the strings of her guitar and Jim smiled. He turned to the barmaid, “Hey – a Cola with cherry?”

She smiled at him – he was a regular, after all – and said, “And chocolate? You know it’s better that way!”

He nodded assent and watched as she poured a decadent amount of chocolate into his Cola. He took it and passed her his plasteen. She slapped it with her palmreader and handed it back. “Thanks, Mars.”

He turned back to see Mittens still tuning her instrument. He looked to his left and saw a man popping corn kernels into his mouth. Where had he gotten corn? It wasn’t even close to corn season. Jim’s mouth watered. He could use a snack to go with his sweet Cola, but he couldn’t let hunger distract him. Duty, Jim.

He turned back to the stage. And Mittens began to play. Music swelled beautifully and her voice rose to heights triumphant. It was one of his favorites, although he wasn’t sure if anyone else in here had heard it before. “And can it be…that I should gain…”

Jim sighed. Bliss. And then snapped. He had a job to do, and that job didn’t involve being as entranced by the music as everyone else appeared to be.

His eyes swept back around the room. Nothing.

And again.

And then, as he turned back to watch Mittens, he felt the cold touch of steel at his neck. Ever so slowly, his eyes slid to the knife and the man that was holding it. How had he gotten inside without being noticed? That was beside the point. Jim swallowed once. The man’s face was hidden in a cowl, but Jim heard the chuckle. The music was still playing. “…amazing love! How can it be, that Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?!” As Mittens’ voice soared to the next verse, he felt the steel dig a fraction deeper into his neck.

Aeryn, now would be a good time.

And then, he heard the whine. Finally. A flash of light. A scream. The hooded man slumped to the floor and Jim smiled in relief. “Thanks, sis.”

Aeryn doffed her fedora, “You got it, bro.”

Mars and Corn Man were hovering over the cloaked man. He wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. The rest of the cantina’s patrons were starting to notice something was amiss. Mittens was still playing. “Bold I approach the eternal throne…and claim the crown, through Christ my own!”

Jim sighed, the tension finally bleeding away. Aeryn put her head on his shoulder as he put his arm around her. Mittens put down her guitar and came over, her blue eyes sparkling. Jim grinned and pulled her into a hug. They stood and they swayed in the music of the night. Soon it would be time to get back to work. But not this moment. This moment, victory. This moment, light. This moment, love.

Unbroken

James HoganLeave a comment

A tilt of earth,
A veil of lace,
A song of mirth,
A dance of grace!

Upon the wild mountains,
Throughout the misty streams,
A midst the towers stalwart,
Living forgotten dreams.

Whither goes the songstress?
Whither goes the sage?
Who now wields true justice?
Who to end this age?

A flight of laughter,
A bout of tears,
A leap of logic,
Pray bless our years!

Living in the lowlands,
A midst the droughts we kneel,
Throughout the pits most fey,
Upon a dream most real.

Who to dance upon the altar?
Who to tend the fires above?
Who to linger in the glories?
Who to dance the songs of love?

Once more the anthem rings,
Once more shall herald sound,
Once more the light triumphant,
Truly, the lost is found!

King of Kings and Lord of Lords!
Almighty Father above!
Jesus, Saviour, Redeemer!
To Him all praise and all love!

Upon the mount unveiled,
Throughout love strewn stories,
A midst the mist of dreams,
Living now, true glories!

A rift of time,
A song of seas,
A lilting rhyme,
A kiss of peace!

Merrily, Verily

James HoganLeave a comment

Was there ever a dream so rich, a thought so true? This was a question pondered often by the wanderer. Was there never a moment of pure wonderment so real that all the rain of woe had no strength to wash it away? This man heavily sat down upon his stool. His fire flickered wearily. His eyes echoed the dimming of its flames. His thoughts mirrored the ebbing of its passion. And now it was time. He glanced over at the knife on the table. It was sharp.

September 6th, 2010

James HoganLeave a comment

Well, I was going to say it was a gorgeous day here…but then a hurricane sort of decided to visit my neighborhood. Ok so it’s not a hurricane, but the rain and wind are going crazy outside!! And I swear there was sunshine and blue skies not ten minutes ago. Oh Houston, how I will miss you…

And you may wonder what I’m doing writing a journal entry on a Monday morning? Well, it so happens to be Labour Day here!! And thus, I got to sleep in a bit(’til 9, woo!) and then make a nice pot of coffee and read to my heart’s content. And then I decided it was a perfect time for a wee update, no? And especially because I won’t get to do that many more updates in the States. Because LESS THAN A WEEK FROM NOW I will be in Scotland. Yeah. This Saturday, flying on a jet plane! First to Amsterdam(9 hour flight. Yay?), and then a short hop to Aberdeen. And the adventure will begin.

Hey, and now the rain’s gone! Fickle Houston weather.

Ahh, I still can’t believe I’m about to leave Houston, for what could be a long time! Of course, I could be right back here next year, but that is still undecided. *gets up to refill coffee mug* …and that’s better! Shout-out to Deanna for this delightful Hungarian mug! I do like sweet coffee mugs, and this one definitely qualifies!

Well now, what else can I update y’all on? I’m still trying to dance around the fact that I’m leaving soon…so I don’t have to think of leaving everyone behind. On Saturday, I passed the keys of my car on to Adam. Farewell, Aeryn! You served me well! Sort of. And yesterday, I spent much time packing, trying to figure out what I need to take to Scotland. I have to say, it is sort of annoying having to pack for Scotland because cold-weather clothes take up MUCH more room than warm-weather clothes. But I have no doubt I would sorely regret not packing all my sweaters…so I’m just not going to have much room for any books. Ah well. Only two suitcases for six months! Sound good?

And oh gosh, the rain is coming down hard again. Hurray? Oh wait, I lied. Now it is sunny again. Houston, stop being weather-schizo!

Oh also yesterday, had a lovely time at church…my last time there. For a while, at least. Saying goodbye to so many people…worshiping mightily in the LORD…loving my brothers and sisters…and being loved…I don’t think I can really describe my feelings except to say something I’ve said far too much…I am overwhelmed by the goodness of the LORD.


Dancing in the new born sun,
turning my head to the height
of the sky bannered in joy
striated in crimson delight.

Looking to the stars on high
turning my head to the ground
losing my hopes and my dreams
to the ecstasy of being found.

Kneeling in the rain-soaked field,
lifting my tear streaked face
to the one who loved me
to the one who loves me

And now I am

Rejoicing in the infinite
turning my head to glory
Dancing
Singing
Loving
Being loved.

Standing upon the ramparts
turning my head to the one
who makes me tremble anew
in purest
adoration.

And that’s enough emotional profusion for the day. I love y’all.

August 1st, 2010

James HoganLeave a comment

Wanted to do a quick update, but my dinner awaits! Thus, I will be a terrible tease and give you a brief glimpse at something I’ve been working on this afternoon. This may not stay online long, just as long as it takes to eat dinner and for me to write up a proper update. We’ll see:

Flash.

Jas jerked upright again. The fire had not died down yet, sparks still sailing the wind in front of his eyes. The night was not that cold, the fire not hot enough.

Flash.

Jas laughed aloud, pounding his thigh in open admiration. “Aliya, I’d swear to the stars that your dancing was beautiful, if not that you’d know it for a lie. A lovely face does cover a multitude of missteps, if I may be so bold.” Eyes wide in indignation, Aliya smacked his shoulder and cried, “You may NOT! And besides,” mischief returning to her voice, “You wouldn’t want to go home with a broken arm to add to your broken feet, now would you?” Jas threw her a look of mock horror before breaking down in laughter once again. Aliya ran her fingers through her long dark hair before reaching to her neck to adjust her fine woolen scarf. The blue-streaked green of the scarf did set her eyes off so. Jas told her that and earned enough punch to the arm. “Do you want me too bruised to take your arm, then, my love?” She smiled slyly in return and pulled him to his feet. “No, my Jas, I think it’s time for me to bruise your feet, instead.” Jas groaned, but his feet were already moving in time with the fiddler’s tune. “Right then, my star-blessed lady. We dance tonight!”

Flash.

Jas blinked to see the fiercely burning flames lick towards him. The fire was still burning. That was good. He reached out his hands to warm them. They shook. He would never be warm again.

Flash.

The sun shone dazzlingly high in the perfectly blue sky. Clouds accented the heavens only slightly, not enough to mar the beauty of the morning. Jas lay his head back in the grass and grinned to himself. There was never enough sky for him, never enough blue. The sky called his name like a sailor to the sea. Only, a sea-cursed man could find his dream of a sea and ship to sail, if he so desired. If only the days of old were born anew, Jas could fly the skies like an eagle, like a hawk climbing the ladder of heaven. If the stories were to believed, it was not considered a great thing to fly, then. Jas longed for the chance. Yet the grass under his back was soft enough, and the lowing of cattle soothed his longing heart. “You cannot cry over what you cannot change,” his dad would say. Jas smiled. The sky was beautiful enough. If he drifted off to sleep lost in the blue, it would seem he drifted on a cloud.

Flash.

Jas started awake. The coals at his feet feebly glowed in protest at the damp chill of night. Jas sighed and struggled to his feet. His legs barely held him. He peered up at the sky, hoping to see the stars. Only an oily sheen of clouds returned his gaze. The stars had been gone too long. Too long.

Flash.

And now that my appetite is satisfied, I find that I don’t quite have the desire to write a long update anymore! But as a gift(ENJOY IT!), I decided to leave my above randomness on this post, instead of deleting it like I planned. So appreciate the glimpse into the mind of a madman.

And while I said I wouldn’t write a full update, I do have to say that this past week has been quite intense! What with Deanna being in town(seeing her for the first time in over a year!!) and trying desperately to fight off the clutching hands of sickness, I’ve been on a roller-coaster ride this past week. I feel as if I’ve been wrung dry and burnished to a fine shine and broken and forged anew and pulled bare of the sheath in all my faded glory… But despite the fire and despite the pain, despite the glory and despite the rain, I stand. I stand. God be praised, I stand!

And for real, y’all, I’m off. Pardon my weirdness(or don’t – it’s all the same to me). Time for me to sleep the sleep of the sleepy. And maybe I’ll dream.