Mega Screen
Two weeks ago, in the lead-up to a concert, I got to read poetry off a video screen that was larger than the end zone of a football field.
Two weeks ago, in the lead-up to a concert, I got to read poetry off a video screen that was larger than the end zone of a football field.
Genleevia is a Level 97 Warrior. She rides proudly atop a golden gryphon and wields her morning star against foes like the Wind-Worker and Vice the Shadow Wyrm.
I was satisfied in my decision. There was thrill in riding without a ticket. And I was convinced that what I was doing was right. I was in line with the spirit of the law, even if the law had no spirit.
“Are you happy with how things shook out?” he asked me.
Someone would pass a six-pack of cold root beer up and all of us would lounge in a circle and talk about nothing, and it felt like everything.
It felt like I was coming face to face with someone I’ve known my whole life: a trusted confidant, a wise neighbor and teacher and principal and professor.
Glory be to God for finished things—
I’ve never gone to a movie theater with the bar of expectations so low as I did for Wonder Woman.
I remember my high school’s Friday morning chapel as uninspiring, but it seemed like everyone wanted to take part in the Class of 2010’s “senior chapel.”
Ah crap. I suddenly became very aware of my shortcomings: namely, my lack of any credentials at all.