Writing Progress: The Prom Queen of Monte Cristo (Young Adult fiction) 

The Last Symphony of Juan Garcia 

The Woods above the World

The Gardens above Safed Koh (short story spin-off of The Woods above the World

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Favorite Quotes and Passages
  • A Grief Observed
    A Grief Observed
    by C. S. Lewis

    "But perhaps I lack the gift. I see I've described her as being like a sword. That's true as far as it goes. But utterly inadequate by itself, and misleading. I ought to have said 'But also like a garden. Like a nest of gardens, wall within wall, hedge within hedge, more secret, more full of fragrant and fertile life, the further you explore. And then, of her, and every created thing I praise, I should say 'in some way, in its unique way, like Him who made it. Thus up from the garden to the Gardener, from the sword to the Smith. to the life-giving Life and the Beauty that makes beautiful."  -C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

  • The Lord of the Rings Trilogy Gift Set
    The Lord of the Rings Trilogy Gift Set
    by J.R.R. Tolkien, J. R. R. Tolkien

    "Yes, that's so," said Sam. "And we shouldn't be here at all, if we'd known more about it before we started. But I suppose it's often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually - their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on - and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same - like old Mr. Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into?" -Sam Gamgee in Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien 

  • The Everlasting Man
    The Everlasting Man
    by Gilbert K. Chesterton

    "But it was not the strange story to which anybody paid any particular attention; people in that world had seen queer religions enough to fill a madhouse.  It was something in the tone of the madmen and their type of formation. They were a scratch company of barbarians and slaves and poor and unimportant people; but their formation was military; they moved together and were very absolute about who and what was really a part of their little system; and about what they said. However mildly, there was a ring like iron.  Men used to many mythologies and moralities could make no analysis of the mystery, except the curious conjecture that they meant what they said. All attempts to make them see reason in the perfectly simple matter of the Emperor’s statue seemed to be spoken to deaf men. It was as if a new meteoric metal had fallen on the earth; it was a difference of substance to the touch.  Those who touched their foundation fancied they had struck a rock." -G.K. Chesterton, Everlasting Man

  • The Complete Poems of John Keats (Modern Library)
    The Complete Poems of John Keats (Modern Library)
    by John Keats

    MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains  
      My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,  
    Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains  
      One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:  
    'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,          5
      But being too happy in thine happiness,  
        That thou, light-wingèd Dryad of the trees,  
              In some melodious plot  
      Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,  
        Singest of summer in full-throated ease.   10
     
    O for a draught of vintage! that hath been  
      Cool'd a long age in the deep-delvèd earth,  
    Tasting of Flora and the country-green,  
      Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!  
    O for a beaker full of the warm South!   15
      Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,  
        With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,  
              And purple-stainèd mouth;  
      That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,  
        And with thee fade away into the forest dim:   20
     
    Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget  
      What thou among the leaves hast never known,  
    The weariness, the fever, and the fret  
      Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;  
    Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs,   25
      Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;  
        Where but to think is to be full of sorrow  
              And leaden-eyed despairs;  
      Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,  
        Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.   30
     
    Away! away! for I will fly to thee,  
      Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,  
    But on the viewless wings of Poesy,  
      Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:  
    Already with thee! tender is the night,   35
      And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,  
        Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays  
              But here there is no light,  
      Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown  
        Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.   40
     
    I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,  
      Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,  
    But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet  
      Wherewith the seasonable month endows  
    The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;   45
      White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;  
        Fast-fading violets cover'd up in leaves;  
              And mid-May's eldest child,  
      The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,  
        The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.   50
     
    Darkling I listen; and, for many a time  
      I have been half in love with easeful Death,  
    Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,  
      To take into the air my quiet breath;  
    Now more than ever seems it rich to die,   55
      To cease upon the midnight with no pain,  
        While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad  
              In such an ecstasy!  
      Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—  
        To thy high requiem become a sod.   60
     
    Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!  
      No hungry generations tread thee down;  
    The voice I hear this passing night was heard  
      In ancient days by emperor and clown:  
    Perhaps the self-same song that found a path   65
      Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,  
        She stood in tears amid the alien corn;  
              The same that ofttimes hath  
      Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam  
        Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.   70
     
    Forlorn! the very word is like a bell  
      To toll me back from thee to my sole self!  
    Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well  
      As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.  
    Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades   75
      Past the near meadows, over the still stream,  
        Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep  
              In the next valley-glades:  
      Was it a vision, or a waking dream?  
        Fled is that music:—do I wake or sleep?

THE RADIO HAGGARD BOYS MIRACLE PROJECT

The styles of Radiohead (experimental electronic rock) + Merle Haggard & Johnny Cash (outlaw country) + The Beach Boys (four-part harmony surf rock) = The Radio Haggard Boys Miracle Project. Under this artist name, I will be writing, recording, and giving away one new song as a free download every two weeks for the next year.

Each song will tell a true story about incidents in my life that I consider to be miracles. Also, because this is a year-long project, it will be organized by the four seasons, and each season will influence the mood.

Phase 1 of the Miracles Project: Summer 2013

6/17/13 - Song #1: A Figure From The Deep

 

 

The song "A Figure From The Deep" marks the beginning of the year-long Radio Haggard project. All songs posted are free downloads. The lyric tells the story of a sailor in the 1800s who begins to drown in a storm, but is rescued just before he dies. The mysterious figure who rescued him rose from the depths of the sea and accompanied him until he safely washed ashore.

The song style focuses heavily on the Radiohead element of this musical experience. The low bass/baritone vocals is a modest nod to outlaw country. Some of the harmonies and clean guitar tracks are a nod to the Beach Boys. You put it all together, and you have a, well, an interesting sound, to say the least. I'm still getting used to it myself. I might redo some of the tracks and re-mix later on down the road to smooth out some of the performances on the recording, but it will do for now. I wanted to get this project started ASAP! No more delays! I sincerely hope that some brave soul out there, even just one person, downloads this song and enjoys it.

How do the lyrics refer to a miracle, you might be asking? Well, it's a metaphor for something that happened to me. In early January 2003, I began having lung problems and trouble breathing. On a Sunday morning, I was praying to Jesus when I felt a presence in the room. I had a distinct feeling that someone was nearby, though I could not see anyone. In my mind's eye, I saw a vivid picture of Jesus walking towards me in the room. The presence in the room felt holy and powerful as if a majestic lion had just walked in. I wanted to fall to my knees. It was beautiful but a little scary too. No one feels entirely safe around a lion. The next moment, I felt two hands press hard against my chest -- so hard that I stumbled back! I cried out in surprise and fear, but then in awe. In that split second, my lungs had been healed. I could breathe freely as if I had finally gotten free from a stuffy room into open air. I didn't feel like I was suffocating. I didn't feel like I was drowning. I will never forget that incident as long as I live. If I ever had any doubts that supernatural things happen in the Christian life, those doubts are long gone. I don't go looking for miracles as if I were a storm chaser seeking a thrill. I seek intimacy with God through a personal relationship with Christ, and sometimes He allows amazing things like that to happen, for His own reasons. I can't claim to know why He does those things sometimes and other times He doesn't. I don't try to analyze it as if it were a science. I'm just along for the ride.

6/9/13 (one week before official start of the Radio Haggard Boys Miracle Project)

 

This song, though not part of the official Radio Haggard Boys Miracle Project, is a precursor to it. It came about when I began tinkering with the RHBM idea. The lyric of the song focuses on themes of nostalgia, missing one's childhood hometown and remembering old friends and memories. The past always seems to have a golden sheen to it, like the early dusk glow of a summer afternoon. This song is a melancholy, but peaceful tribute to the sweeter chapters of one's past.