Ooops

You may have seen a post up here for just a few short moments telling you something I wasn't supposed to tell you.

It's one of those "We're in a survey" sort of posts. The kind where I got very excited about what it is we are doing. And then I found out that we're supposed to stay anonymous. So I'm not allowed to simultaneously share with you about this thing and still participate.

So. Maybe after it's done I can put up the post that I just took down. Sorry about that.

In the meantime, feel free to guess. Ha ha ha ha!

Unless you know what it really is, then don't, or I'll get kicked out.

Ooooh, the mystery. This should hold us all over until LOST starts again.

In the meantime, here's something I CAN share with you about that spectacular novel, the Burning Hearts Casino:

36,607 / 100,000 (36.6%)

Baby steps, as they would say in one of my wife's favorite movies.

In the latest chapter, our hero hides a gun in his hotel room. Ooooh, the excitement! Remember, if you are ever in a thriller or mystery novel or crime novel, DON'T hide guns in your room. It will not end well for you.

What I had for Dinner Last Night

The traditional first post for most bloggers is one in which they say, "I never wanted to be a blogger because people just write about what they had for breakfast."

Then some posts follow in which they describe their breakfasts for several weeks.

And then the traditional last post, which says, "Sorry I haven't posted for a while, but I will be more disciplined about it now."

So I thought I would share what I had for dinner last night.

A bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with whipped cream and fresh Oregon strawberries.

Because I am an adult and can have whatever I want for dinner, that's why.

Ditch the Waitress

Here's a tip: don't go see the Waitress.

Marketed as a feel-good romance-ish independent film, I guess it might play that way for some people. The woman next to us in the theater said it was "the sweetest movie she had seen in a long time." But then again, maybe she's never been to a movie before.

Kerri Russel plays the titular Waitress. She's pregnant because her hated husband got her drunk and she accidentally had sex with him. Meanwhile, she falls deeply in lust with her new doctor, who she's seeing because, well, she's pregnant. He's married, too. I kept waiting for some moment of redemption where everyone would find happiness or at least stop destroying themselves. It sort of happens by the end, but not in a way that I found remotely satisfying.

The film itself is well done, well acted, well directed. But the story is unpleasant. It's hard to make a comedy about unlikeable people whining about how bad their lives are, and trying to make it better by having sex. Which, as it turns out, doesn't work. The only character I found engaging and likeable was the crotchety old man played by Andy Griffith, who keeps reading imaginary horoscopes to people that says things like, "Even though you have a snake of a husband, you shouldn't be cheating on him." It was good for a couple of laughs. Okay, I liked the guy who did spontaneous poetry, too.



Hey Lost fans... notice anything creepy about the doctor/lust interest? That's right! It's Ethan! Creepy, isn't it? He loves pregnant women, doesn't he? I suppose the sequel to the Waitress will take place on a mysterious island, where Ethan has whisked the Waitress away to bake pies for the Others. And she will keep having flashbacks to her life in the pie shop.

After the movie, Krista said, "Maybe we should have gone to Ocean's 13." Which is saying something, folks. Ocean's 13 is not on our movies-to-see list. My comment was simply, "That was unpleasant."

So I guess you all owe us a thank you. We took a bullet for you. We watched that thing so you don't have to. If you've been thinking about this movie, my suggestion would be that you go to some restaurant and watch the waitresses there for a couple of hours. Chances are good that it will be more entertaining than this movie.

Rated PG-13 for sexual content, language, thematic elements and because the rating people were hoping that children under 13 might be spared from being taken along to this movie and could perhaps live a happier life as a result.

The Village

Hey all. This is the church we go to here in the great Northwest. It's called Village. My children call it "The Village" but that's a movie, not a church.

The other thing you should know is that the members of the church are referred to as "Villagers" not "Village People".

I noticed that quite a few people are dropping by from Dean's blog, so I thought I'd say hello. Dean's our worship pastor. I was kidding him about writing something about the musical influence of Elton John in his life and he took me all serious and did.

Anyway, for all you Villagers out there, Krista and I attend the 11:30 service. Drop by and say hello, we'd love to meet you.

--Matt

p.s. Here's our pastor's blog.

Poets Laureate: Revisited

Long-time readers of the Burning Hearts Revolution will recall last fall's epic contest to name poets laureate for every state of the Union which lacked them.

An anonymous poet left a message today on a completely unrelated post reminding me that I had not done right by our beleagured poets in that I had not provided several things promised to them: 1) I had not sent the winning poets the official certificate of Poet-Laureateness, 2) It appeared that certain poets had not had their work posted and 3) they suspected I had not sent letters of commendation to the governors of their states.

And all these things were true.

I have, as they rightly pointed out, done them a great service in many ways by my gross negligence. One, I have given them a treasure trove of bitterness and hatred to nurse into wonderful poems. Perhaps they will go on to achieve fame because of this. Also, I have taught them the valuable lesson that poets should expect to live in cold doorways between buildings during freezing winters, hands trembling as they write their celestial lines upon crumpled bits of newspaper. Such is the glorious life of the poet.

In any case, spurred to action by the no-doubt unmedicated rage of my poets, I have finished all of the awards tonight, and have posted the last of the poems I received permission to post (some winners never got back to me).

The awards need only to be placed in the mail now, which I would say will happen tomorrow but such a dire task could take as long as a week. I have even signed the documents in question and a dear friend of the Poets Laureate movement agreed to sign as a witness. I think you will be pleased to see this special friend's signature!

In any case, my obligation to you as poets will be done at that point and I can move on to a more thankless task than this noble undertaking. I understand your ill will, dear poets, and can only ask that you leave your vicious ventings in the comments section, preferably in verse and without cursing or anonymity.

In the meantime, please enjoy all our poets laureate. Long may they reign in verbose glory.

For those of you who missed all the fun earlier, here are the winners, their bios and poems:

Arizona: Michelle Lawrence Down Reflection
Massachusetts: Eva Ting Open Casket
Missouri: Rob E You Must Be Misstaken
New Jersey: Jill James Puberty
New Mexico: Kasey Martin Spun
Ohio: T.M. Baird The Flock
Pennsylvania: Adam Struble What Crazed Eyes Have Already Seen
Washington: Alexis Youngs I Used to Love My State of Origin But Now I Have My Doubts

Kasey Martin, Poet Laureate of New Mexico

Kasey Martin was born and raised in southern California. He currently resides in Kentucky while attending Seminary at Asbury. Mr. Martin has never lived in New Mexico, but believes it to be a lovely state to drive through whether on one's way to Oklahoma to visit family, or Kentucky to go to seminary. He says, "To be fair, it's lovely at sunrise but it's actually kind of annoying driving through downtown Albuquerque in the middle of the night because I-40 is eternally under construction."

The picture on left is from Mr. Martin's wedding day. He wanted to have a crown since his wife was allowed a tiara. She allowed him this one picture with his crown.

For more of Mr. Martin's work, visit the poetry blog of his seminary, or his personal blog.

Spun by Kasey Martin, Poet Laureate of New Mexico

Spin whiskey to me in the cold, deep hills of
Kentucky. Smokey minds lie hidden and beyond my eyes.
I still can't see, can't hold, can't breathe, can't
be. Spin memories in this broken hull of life. This
fodder of hope and wonder of anything now called free.
It's too dim to dance, I'm too thread-bare to carry,
but I'm free and so indeed. Indeed, but too dumb to
care it seems, or notice truth before me, some hope
right beside my not yet healthy mind. Forgotten in
the deepness I am, weary from the travels and falls;
from all hope, from any dream of me and my mind
half-baked and drying in the sun. Bring back this
common interest, this quick blinding sun in moonlight.
Fast shadows fall double-quick in time. I'm here,
I'm out, I'm dreaming in the cold Kentucky hills, in
the fast, still-born washes of the deepest back wood.
This is just the flow, the in-breaking rush of
water-light, like a watershed memory in time. A
matchstick memory smooth and quick and flicked to
burst forth light in all and less of me.

Adam Struble, Poet Laureate of Pennsylvania

Adam Struble is a musician, songwriter, poet, stonemason, and a thinker. He is very interested in Neitzche and Aleister Crowley, as well as Bob Dylan and the Beats. Mr. Struble has lived in D.C., New York City, Maryland, the forests of Pennsylvania,and Portland, Oregon. He travels habitually, never staying in one place for very long. He is always trying to make his mark on his environment and the people around him.

For another look inside Adam's head, check out his MySpace.

what crazed eyes have already seen by Adam Struble, Poet Laureate of Pennsylvania

what crazed eyes have already seen
the end of things
wet green eyed forest,
the blood of birth and death
and the ever present possibility of dying alone
and in these last hours
the rite of passage
dancing on the edge of oblivion
kiss the rain and taste continuity
feeling flooding over us like dying

Movie Review: Music and Lyrics

Krista and I rented Music and Lyrics last night. Or rather, I rented, we watched.

Do you remember the good old days, when British rock, synthesizers and pop ruled? Have you ever owned a "Wham!" album (or wished that you did)? Do you like jokes about Debbie Gibson and Tiffany? Then you will think this film is radical. :P

Krista and I both enjoyed this movie. Drew Barrymore was her usual self. And Hugh Grant was somehow, inexplicably, likeable and charming. How did that happen?

Hugh Grant plays the washed out former member of an eighties band. He can't write songs worth listening to anymore. He gets a chance to submit a song to a famous performer, but he has to write it within a week. He discovers that Drew Barrymore has a gift for lyrics, and soon they are chained to his piano, trying to put together a song that will reignite his career. Of course they will fall in love. Oops, spoiler. Sorry about that.

Krista compared this movie to eating candy. In other words, fun but with no nutrition. She meant it in a good way, though. We all like candy, right? It was a fun, goofy movie. It's not "Footloose" but hey, what movie is able to take on a comparison like that?

RATED PG-13 for sexual content. SPOILER: They have sex. Under the piano. That's right. Under the piano. But it's tamer than some television, folks. ANOTHER SPOILER AND A COMPLAINT: You know, I think that someone should get married at the end of a comedy. This is how we know it's a comedy. In fact, any single person in the movie should get married at the end. So we know everyone's happy. And if it's a tragedy, let's see some dead people. In fact, kill 'em all. Unless it would be more tragic to have someone left alive and feeling sad about all the dead people. That would be acceptable. All that to say, no one dead, no one married at the end of this thing. Is it a tragedy? A comedy? We are left to guess for ourselves.

Family Ties

My daughter A likes to give everyone little nicknames. Z is "sissy" and Krista is "Mimi" and I'm, uh, well, "Doodoo." Z has started calling me doodoo also. It's a name that sticks.

Thank you, Walt Disney

Me: True or False? The word dinosaur means "friendly people."

Z: False. Some of the dinosaurs were friendly and some of them weren't.

RAPTOR CAM!

Check out the raptor cam.

Some red-tailed hawks built a nest on a fire escape in Portland, and the local news has set up a camera. You can't, obviously, see anything at night.

The chicks should be ready to fly in the next couple of days, so check it out while you can!

Chipping Away

Krista went off to play BUNKO at the church tonight. I told Z that Krista was going to a woman's night at church and she said, "Is it because it's almost Father's Day?" I like the idea that the women of the church are secretly plotting something for Father's Day. I wonder what it is they're up to?

Since Krista was out for the night, I spent a little time working on the novel. After the kids were settled, of course.

34,580 / 100,000 (34.6%)

Go, go, go!

At this rate I'll be done one day.

Miracles

Sometimes listening to the right song is a mini-devotional for me. It sets my heart in the right place, and shifts my focus to the Person it should be on. Here's a snip from the song that's doing it for me today:

I want to see miracles
To see the world changed
To wrestle the angel
For more than a name
For more than a feeling
More than a cause
I’m singing, Spirit, take me up in arms with you
And you’re raising the dead in me…

Toughen Up... Summer is Here

Today marks the official "First Day" of summer for me. I can tell when this day arrives based on two things: One, I wore shorts all day. Two, I didn't wear shoes.

Which means that it's time to start the Patented Mikalatos Toughen Up curriculuum for feet.

I hate it when I have soft, pampered feet. "Winter feet." Blech.

So it's time. Time to take those feet and walk across hot cement. Weed the yard! Step on thorns! Kick rocks!

If you do it right your feet won't feel anything within a couple of weeks. Hooray!

Yahoo!

Here's the latest update on the novel word count:

33,412 / 100,000 (33.4%)

That puts me just barely over one-third of the way! Yeeha!*






*It's not a western, though.

Memorial Day

For all those who have gone before us by way of the violence or deprivations of war, we remember you and the lives you led. We pray for peace and for the return of the One who will bring everlasting peace to our lives, and justice to our world. He did not create us to die, but to live. Come, Lord Jesus!

Choose Your Own (Christian) Romance: Answer Key

Well, it's time to reveal at long last the "correct" answer to the choose your own Christian Romance game.

And the correct answer is -- drumroll, please -- B! That's right, "And as her true love pulled her into his arms for the sweetest kiss, Ashley was finally able to leave the past behind and embrace the future, as a woman, as a mother, and someday soon as a pastor's wife."

Mmmm, that's the good stuff!

Props to Jason and Hairy Dave, the truest connoisseurs of romance fiction, who sniffed out the answer to that one right away.

Eavesdropping With Matt (Episode fifteen)

Dedicated to the well-meaning eight-year-old girl at the Portland Zoo, who wanted my children to know the truth about the animals around them.


Z: Dad, look at the crocodiles!

A: And why are there fish in there with them?


Me: When the crocodiles get hungry they slip down there and eat some fish.


Z: Why?


Me: Crocodiles eat fish. Or, you know, pretty much anything that goes near them. Zebras, antelope, that sort of thing.


Eight-Year-Old Girl: That's not actually true, you know. Crocodiles are very gentle creatures.


Me: Is that right?


Eight-Year-Old Girl: Yes. Crocodiles will only attack if something tries to harm them. They are mostly vegetarian.


I gave that little girl my blog address and told her to look it up tonight. I wanted to be sure that she saw this picture of a crocodile eating a big bloody chunk of banana:





















Aw, alright kid, stop crying. Here's what really happens:



Crocodiles just like to suck on frogs and fish for the flavor. But they would never eat them.