A (Second) Confession

Tonight I met a girl who loves David Mitchell as much as I do. That is to say, we love him ardently. And we don't even mind that he is most probably short. This one is for you, Jess.

A Confession

I love TS Eliot, but this is glorious....

I am so coarse, the things the poets see
Are obstinately invisible to me.
For twenty years I’ve stared my level best
To see if evening–any evening–would suggest
A patient etherized upon a table;
In vain. I simply wasn’t able.
To me each evening looked far more
Like the departure from a silent, yet a crowded, shore
Of a ship whose freight was everything, leaving behind
Gracefully, finally, without farewells, marooned mankind.

Red dawn behind a hedgerow in the east
Never, for me, resembled in the least
A chilblain on a cocktail-shaker’s nose;
Waterfalls don’t remind me of torn underclothes,
Nor glaciers of tin-cans. I’ve never known
The moon look like a hump-backed crone–
Rather, a prodigy, even now
Not naturalized, a riddle glaring from the Cyclops’ brow
Of the cold world, reminding me on what a place
I crawl and cling, a planet with no bulwarks, out in space.

Never the white sun of the wintriest day
Struck me as un crachat d’estaminet.
I’m like that odd man Wordsworth knew, to whom
A primrose was a yellow primrose, one whose doom
Keeps him forever in the list of dunces,
Compelled to live on stock responses,
Making the poor best that I can
Of dull things…peacocks, honey, the Great Wall, Aldebaran
Silver weirs, new-cut grass, wave on the beach, hard gem,
The shapes of horse and woman, Athens, Troy, Jerusalem.

- CS Lewis.

I could move to Sydney for the bookshops

This weekend finds me in Sydney.

It'll take another post to ruminate on the city, but let me just say that they have some damn excellent bookshops.

I spent yesterday afternoon in Kinokuniya, which is sort of Japanese version of Border's, only much better stocked. (For example: a whole aisle of poetry, and one entire bookshelf devoted to Renaissance history!)

Today I whiled away most of the morning in Berkelouw. The ground floor is new books, funky stationary and a vegan cafe (I didn't have to tell them that I wanted a soy flat white. It was already soy). And then you climb the stairs and GLORY: shelves and shelves of second-hand and rare books. And more coffee and food, with the sun making golden coin shapes across the tables.

And tonight, while waiting for my Thai take-away to cook, I ducked into Gould's (open at 9pm!), and brought a very clean copy of Dorothy L. Sayers' Lord Peter Views the Body and a battered but serviceable copy of George MacDonald's At the Back of the North Wind. All for 8 bucks!

What a winner!

On CS Lewis

“That being said, I can only confess to being repeatedly humbled and reconverted by Lewis in a way that is true of few other modern Christian writers. Re-reading works I have not looked at for some time, I realize where a good many of my favorite themes and insights came from, and am constantly struck by the richness of imagination and penetration that can be contained even in a relatively brief letter. Here is someone you do not quickly come to the end of — as a complex personality and as a writer and thinker.”

- Rowan Williams on C S Lewis.

As the Ruin Falls

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love --a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.

For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.

-- Clive Staples Lewis

Music to Hold Hands To

It occurs to me that I don't often write about what I am listening to, so here's a musical post for whiling away these wintry days.

First up, BOY is a Swiss and German duo. Effortlessly hipster, with easy-listening, crowd pleasing pop songs. (It doesn't hurt either, being this attractive! :P) This happy little number makes me dream of sunshine and ice cream, and is great for waking yourself up to, on dreary mornings!



I had dinner with some gorgeous girl friends from college last night, and one of them played us this song. It's Tripod and Eddie Perfect, with an exquisite rendition of a Paul Kelly gem. The song itself is a beautiful reworking of Psalm 23, and I find the lyrics just as wonderful as the music.



Speaking of covers, I've rather fallen for this song, and this gentle, sweet version of it. I actually like it better than the Kinks original! Such lightness of touch from DC Cardwell.



DC also does a fine cover of this Neil Young song. Takes a few listens, I think, but the lyrics and tune has a way of getting under your skin. I've been humming snatches of it as I walk around the city. Something about it just goes so well with rain on pavement, grey skies and a blustery wind freezing your face off. Makes me happy.



ZAZ, aka Isabelle Geffroy, is part Edith Piaf, part jazz, half gypsy, and completely awesome!



Finally ... some "hai kultcha" (Oh la!). Our Church Choir sang this a few months back, and I can't get enough! Usually, I hate the organ. It is, as CS Lewis said, "one long roar." But somehow the deadly wall of noise works alright here, broken up as it is by the penetrating voices. I love the thrilling musical build up to "Ye are wash'd! Ye are sanctified! Ye are justified! In the name of the Lord JESUS!"



Happy listening!

A Thought on Reading

So here's a reason for reading Christian Biographies:


"The lives of saints are a text – or rather, they are exegesis of the biblical text. As Hans Urs von Balthasar says, it's the ones who love God that really know something about God, so we ought to listen to the witness of their lives."

Ben Myers strikes again. Thanks, mate!

Winter Warmers

It's a cold winter down here in Melbourne, and what better time to start tucking into some reading, wrapped in blankets and with a pot of tea by your side.

I'm looking around for things to read - something not too dense, so that the reading process might be slow, and a little luxurious. But something with a bit of bite, some chilli to warm the blood, and send the heart palpitating, for a few moments.

So, what are you reading?