Second Coming of the Jesus Phone

I loved my Blackberry. Really, I did. But not this much.

The iPhone is just, so, you know, intuitive.

I do miss copy-and-paste abilities. I sure wish the camera could do video. And then there's the prayers of please-god-give-us-flash-on-the-iPhone-so-i-can-watch-hulu of which I am not proud (and for which I do not have much hope. sigh.).

Oh, and! the manager of the Apple store gave me a $50 iTunes gift card because I had so much trouble trying to upgrade. (I like to think it's because I was so nice while I was having so much trouble.) So, I'm spending it on too many apps. Anyway, here's what's on my Jesus Phone:

(mouseover reveals notes. also, n.b. this is before I started exploring the web apps. i'll report back!)

1: Home page
(used regularly/want available through one click)


2: utilities, basically.


3: more utilities
(yes, the restaurant finders would seem to go better with Box Office. I'm fiddling, people!)


4: media



5: games!!!


6: jesus loves me, this i know, for my iPhone tells me...which constellations i'm looking at AND gives me jedi privileges.


The last screen just holds the apps I don't use but can't delete: Contacts (Can be accessed via the phone button. This redundancy will not stand, man!), Stocks (Riiiiiight. I spent all my money on this new phone I heard about...it has a touch screen!), and Weather (not as good as Weatherbug app).

PS, Steve, you can't groom a generation of customization addicts and expect us to go willingly into your little forced placement icon grid. Love ya!

Practice Resurrection

This week's lectionary readings reminded me of one of my favorite poems, Wendell Berry's The Mad Farmer Liberation Front. Berry begins by describing how we live when we function out of our fear and anxiety rather than embracing God's promise that our needs are known and will be provided for and realized as we strive first for God's justice, peace, and joy.

Be afraid to know your neighbors and to die.
When they want you to buy something they will call you.

Berry spends the rest of the poem outlining how we might try to not worry about our life.

So, friends, every day do something that won't compute.
Love the Lord. Love the world.
Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be poor. Love someone who does not deserve it.

The reading from Isaiah describes how God cares for us even more than a mother for her child, asking:
Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb?
Berry echoes:

Ask yourself: Will this satisfy a woman satisfied to bear a child? Will this disturb the sleep of a woman near to giving birth?

In the final stanza, the poet suggests that we might be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary, some in the wrong direction.
Berry concludes by naming what it would mean for us to live out of hope rather than fear:

Practice resurrection.

Amen. Read the whole poem here.

It's not a comic book!

Saturday was free comic book day as well as Derby Day. These two events colliding can only mean one thing, of course: DAN ZETTWOCH. He is my favorite graphic illustrator/short storyist/yarnspinner/visual thinkerist/blogger/master painter. I guess that's why he's one of the Best American Comics. Even this guy thinks so. Dan was making way cooler stuff than me by the time we were 8. I think it was the ghost (muse?) in the basement refrigerator. Or maybe it's because I didn't drink the sweet tea. Anyway, I'm always delighted to see what he's got in that fancy case of his.

Between this, this, this, this, and this, it's like we're almost cousins or something.

I still think Dan's old gig, XPLANE is one of the coolest things going. And sometimes I read Communication Nation, written by his old boss, Dave Gray.

So what's better than Daniel? Jenny!

Color as Field

James Olitski's Tin Lizzie Green (1964).

The Smithsonian Museum of Art is offering the exhibit Color as Field: American Painting 1950-1975 until May 26. 38 pieces are included from 17 artists, notably Helen Frankenthaler, Jules Olitski, Kenneth Noland, Frank Stella, Morris Louis, Sam Gilliam (Louisville and UofL's own), and Gene Davis. The collection begins with Color Field precursor Abstract Expressionism by pointing to its roots in the work of Barnett Newman Mark Rothko, Clifford Still and more. Do you see why I'm excited about it?

The reviews are nearly as interesting as the work. Watch the NY Times slideshow or read their review. The Sun (Sorry, Mr. Simon) has its own analysis. NPR also has a profile and my favorite take so far is from the Washington Post.