The Simple Superficial Pleasures

Snowing In Seattle - Sherwood (mp3)
Ice Cream - Sarah McLachlan (mp3)
Favorite Things - John Coltrane (mp3)

Twice in the final days before Christmas, I have found myself freed from Calypso (read: work) with my shipmates (read: all three of my children) journeying through the fourth circle of Hell (read: Hamilton Place mall traffic), through Lotus-Eaters and Cyclopii and HHGreggses of the seas in the hopes of returning safely home in time to give Santa plenty of booty to drop down the chimney (read: move up from the basement at 1 a.m. Christmas morning).  [NOTE: I realize that Dante and Homer are unfairly intermingled in the above reference. Chalk it up to laziness.]

These experiences were sandwiched around a 48-hour bug that created Exorcist children and poopy parents. While this might be TMI for some readers, this is essential information, as it is when we are in times of great misery, stress and suffering that we become most aware of that which makes us happy and appreciative.

And, because my weekend experiences were entirely wrapped up in the superficial and marginal trappings of illness and "Christmas" (read: puke and presents), I found myself gleeful and grateful for those superficial and marginal things in life that touch my heart in particular.

Orange Julius: The original Creamsicle drink. In reality, anything that tastes remotely like a creamsicle qualifies here. The flavor of creamsicle is better than kettle corn, dark chocolate, brown ale, or even caramel. Creamsicle tastes like heaven.

A Charlie Brown Christmas: The acting is as bad as acting can be in something animated. The animation isn't much better. It's not particularly funny. The Zapruder film has better editing. Yet... we watch. And kids love it. It's almost as if the shittiness is exempted because it is so damned pure of heart. And isn't that what Christmas is all about? Sorta?

Movies You'd Never Watch if You Weren't Sick and Bed-Ridden: In-between grimacing sprints to the bathroom, I would lie half-conscious in my living room watching the best and worst DirecTV had to offer. The Black Hole. Click. The Goonies. Days of Thunder. I own none of these movies, nor would I (except for maybe The Goonies), but something about being too weak to care and desperate for anything to take your mind off of the demons in your intestines makes these movies blessed opportunities. But dear sweet God The Black Hole just ain't very good, no matter how amusing I might find Earnest Borgnine.

Baked Lays: It continues to be the crystal meth of processed foods. No medical professional and no reasonable loved one would recommend a sick person eat entire bags of Baked Lays, yet there I was, 12 hours into my recovery, licking out every last crumb of a bag that had only been opened a few hours earlier. I kept convincing myself it was for the salt intake. Truth is, at times when you feel like anything and everything in your body is only there for a very brief visit, you just want to maximize the enjoyment of welcoming it in.

Drivers Who Wave You In: One of my biggest pet peeve is when people make ridiculous jumps in logic. Just because someone has never cheated at golf doesn't mean they won't engage in insider trading. Just because a President never screwed around on his wife doesn't mean he won't stick a big metaphorical dildo up the ass of the collective citizenry. So this is only worth what it's worth, but I sincerely appreciate people who, jammed into lines of hundreds of other miserable cars in mall parking lots at this time of year, find it in their hearts to wave other people in. They might be serial killers or tax dodgers the rest of their lives, but for those few hours they spend waving people in and letting other desperate drivers catch a break, they are saints, and they are Godsends.

Threadless.com: I spent close to $200 on presents for various people at Threadless.com this Christmas season. And for every dollar I spent, I got several minutes of childish glee from jumping around on that site. I started stuffing my online shopping cart with T-shirts in late November but didn't finalize the order until December 15, because the experience was a constant "two steps forward, one step back" waltz of changing my mind, finding better shirts, missing out on an item that went out of order, and diving back in to find another option. Those dudes deserve their income, and so do the dozen or so shirt creators (anyone can be one!) whose designs had me beeming.

Bands Who Send BOTG (Tasty) Free Songs to Promote: He had me at "Superdrag." This dude named Dan sent us the song "Snowing in Seattle" and described it as "Superdrag/Nada Surf/Beach Boys" while admitting that it's much harder to identify the music you put your own sweat and blood into as opposed to the music of others. Thing is, as far as Superdrag is concerned, Dan is spot on. The song is scrumptious power pop and right up my alley, so it's included above. Sherwood's upcoming album is expected to come out next summer on the MySpace record label, so keep it in mind if you dig this ditty.

I figured I'd share these few minor things with you here. Feel free to offer some of your own in return. And have a splendid, phosphorescent, Merry Christmas.

All I Need

All I Need - Bethany Dillon (mp3)
Flowerparts - Bob Schneider (mp3)

You're all I need.

Two teenage girls sang a song with that line in it at church this Sunday. It was a pretty enough song, probably originally by some contemporary Christian band, and the two girls did a fine job with the vocals. Unfortunately, when one is in a particularly cynical and dark place spiritually, then cynical and dark things can bloom from even the harmonics of hopeful teenagers.

They were singing about God. God is all they need.

Part of me wishes to hell that were true. Part of me wishes life could be so simple as narrowing down our needs to God And Nothing Else. Get rid of all the distraction. All the detritus. All the inessentials. And all that would be left is you and the one thing you need: an omnipotent, omnipresent, all-loving deity who cannot be seen, who cannot be touched, who cannot be held.

If all I needed was God, I could have managed an altogether different life. No aching need for that wacky notion known as a "soul mate." No overwhelming yearning to be a father. No longing for the acceptance of peers or even a need for friendship. Altogether different notions of success and mission.

And those two girls. They would be so much better off if all they needed was God. Their bodies would not be their enemy. They wouldn't fight-- and primp -- tooth and nail for the acceptance or approval of drooling boys. Shows like Gossip Girl would never make it past the first three or four episodes, because we'd all be too busy watching preachers and gospel programs.

The other part of me, though... finds the notion of needing nothing but God very unpalatable. I'm admittedly working in extremes here. I guess there are people out there who can say "You're all I need" and mean it only in the good and healthy religious sense. I guess there are people out there who say this and aren't part of some Yellow Deli or People's Temple collective.

Most of the people I know who truly sing this and believe this and try their damnedest to live this are... um... Truth is, they're probably better off. I can say they're clueless, or they're disconnected, or they're naive, or they live in a very unstable glass house of fantasy. And it's mostly true. But none of those things are in and of themselves all that awful if you're bound for Eternal Glory, right? So what if you don't fall in love and have a family or find your passion in things beyond hymns of praise or Holy Scriptures? We're just here for a few minutes in comparison to that afterlife. No big sacrifice if you keep it all in perspective.

Maybe I'm a believer who's too far gone. I need much. I find myself enraptured by the easy brilliance of this scene from The Jerk. Although we don't all need stuff in quite this literal a way, the scene is just one more reminder that all great comedy captures a pearl of truth:

We can't need just one thing.

We're not capable. Sure, we want to believe we can, because if we could just narrow it all down, life would be so much simpler and less messy that the one we're stuck in. AllMusic.com claims more than 400 songs include the words "All I Need" in the title. I'm thinking of making a song called "All I Need is a Unicorn," because both notions are equally fantastical.

When I try to imagine singing "You're all I need" about any one person, or any one thing, or even God, it gets kinda icky and scary. I need lots of people. Some of them are specific people, and some are in the abstract, but I need them all. I need people I haven't even met yet, people who might not even have been born as I write this.

The words "You're all I need" conjures notions of addiction, and not the kind of addiction that gains you favor in Heaven. I think of alcoholics and compulsive gamblers, of overeaters and exercise freaks, of unhealthily-obsessed lovers. I think of people who have lost perspective, and maybe some of their grip on reality along with it.

Even the most devoted of childless spouses end up buying a puppy or tackling separate careers. Even the most dedicated and devoted parent yearns for other ways to find meaning. And 99.9% of religious folks have needs beyond food, water and their Creator regardless of whether they can admit it to themselves.

Maybe this is the devil on my other shoulder whispering in my ear. Maybe this is just one more sign I'm in big f*#kin' trouble when I die. But I yam what I yam. I've spent most of my life trying very hard NOT to be so completely focused or obsessed with a single thing that the other important stuff in my life fades out. I'm kinda proud that, so far, I've managed this goal quite nicely. Life has always felt more like a never-ending mixtape than a longplay version of "Every Breath You Take."

We're on a big, cool planet with billions of cool people. Wouldn't it be a crime not to need as much of the good parts and as many of the right people as we can find?

After all, this is my Father's world. Right?

"All I Need" is from Bethany Dillon's So Far... The Acoustic Sessions and can be found on iTunes and Amazon.com. "Flowerparts" is from Bob Schneider's third studio album, The Californian, available only on iTunes.