I'll go with thee to the lane's end... I am a kind of burr, I shall stick. Shakespeare, Measure for Measure

I write not to teach but to learn. Rebecca West

drew's writing:

  • "Always Forever Now," Ideomancer volume 13, issue 2
  • "Black Sun," Black Static # 32
  • "Bread or Cake" and "Pride/Shame,"2nd Annual Philadelphia One-Minute Play Festival
  • "Copper Heart," Polluto Magazine issue 5, A Steampunk Orange
  • "The Accomplished Birder's Guide to Overcoming Rejection," Last Drink Bird Head, edited by Ann and Jeff VanderMeer
  • "Another Night With the Henriksens," Player's Theater Halloween One-Act Festival NYC 2008
  • "Hating the Lovers," and "Pipe Down!" Geez Magazine: Thirty Sermons You Would Never Hear in Church
  • "Beth/slash/Nathan," Paper Fruit Blogiversary Contest

Thursday, February 15, 2007

faithful



















I took my car back to New Jersey to my mechanic-- it's not convenient, but I trust the guy not to rip me off.

That night, I stayed over at my mom's. The next morning, my friend Dwight waited with me at the bus stop. I couldn't face waiting out in the cold for the bus in the morning in my home town, where I never stopped feeling like the new kid. So I asked Dwight to wait with me, even though I know he hasn't been feeling so great lately.

Dwight wrote a book, a really passionate refutation of Calvinist theology. He binds each copy by hand and is selling it on Amazon. He dedicated it to me; this is a big honor for me. I think he sees me as one of the casualties of Calvinism, and it's true my faith has been stymied by the idea of an all-powerful, all-controlling God who allows suffering.

Writing the book exhausted Dwight. I've read of authors who write their magnum opus, then just collapse. Calvin has taken his toll on both of us.

Dwight's wife drove us to the bus stop and the three of us waited in the van. We waited twenty minutes; they kept the car running the whole time. Watching Dwight and Marcy's gas budget turn into fumes, I really regretted having asked them to do this for me. It wasn't even that cold.

Dwight has been selling some of his own collection of books on e-Bay to bring in a little money. His illustrated edition of Pilgrim's Progress brought seventy bucks. Dwight is self-employed and hasn't been able to be at his shop because of his exhaustion. When I learned Dwight was selling off his library it really got to me. My books are my treasure. Dwight and Marcy were on their way to the post office after waiting with me; some of the packages were on the back seat beside me.

The bus came and I took off for the city, which, thanks to the evening news, Dwight believes is filled with desperate criminals and the continual sound of gunfire. Dwight and Marcy really love me. I have some friends to whom I feel like I give back an equal amount, but Dwight is so giving and so encouraging, I am always in the red with him.

I left my gloves in the van; Dwight and Marcy mailed them to me when they sent off the books.

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