Saints Alive

Posted on December 16, 2007 by Varg

I thought for a moment during the Saints game today that they were going to screw it up with another fumble. I like David Patten. I do. I like all our receivers. But the announcer summed it up best when he said the receiver was carrying the ball like a loaf of bread. I damn near shiat myself. It was the most animated I had been all day.

Then the Arizona fake punt and Terrance Copper’s mistackle (yes, I know he’s not on defense but Steve Weatherford isn’t either) had me standing up and pacing, blood pressure going through the roof.

Lucky for us though, on the strength of the defense, Aaron Stecker and Marcus Colston, we pulled it off. Can’t say anything bad about Stecker. I would say he is stepping up but it seems he is simply doing what he would have normally if he received more touches.

Part of me does feel a sense of dread as we approach the next two games. We got past the Eagles twice last year in close games. Perhaps we get past them again. But then what?

Then our season ends on the frigid grounds of Soldier Field again? What a nightmare.

1 thought on “Saints Alive”

terp says:

December 19, 2007 at 12:20 am

I was at ESPN Zone in Disney World huddled away in a corner during this game. I was screaming when I saw him carrying the ball like that and it coincided with a Jaguars play and the majority of the people there were Steelers fans.

They didn’t get me.

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Rejoice!

I say that a lot. I sign many pieces with it. I do this because I believe our lives are a true happenstance. A brilliant occurence from nothingness. We are so rare. We are so unlikely. And simply being born isn’t enough. From there we must survive, endure. So each morning, after our Sun departs and is reborn again. Please, for the sake of your ancestors and the Universe in general, hoist that cup of joe up and say, “Rejoice.”

Ours is a soulful existence. No matter how many McMansions, polyester fabrics, auto-tunes, modified foods and social networks we surround ourselves with, we are all still native, passionate beings made of ancient matter. We are organic and we have soul.

Wood also has a warm, soulful quality. Wood has a memory. It retains smells, traumas, events. It even has a calendar. This is why I have chosen it as my medium, for its old soul. I like to think the wood in my work is in its third incarnation. First a tree, then a home and now art. If you have a room that needs a little soul, get a piece. A room can never have enough soul.

My inspiration and subject matter comes from many sources, among them: Humanism, old ballads, trickster tales, flora and fauna, science, myths and folklore, stringed instruments, brass bands, amber spirits, lady vocalists, general relativity and quantum mechanics. Some of my pieces are there just to make a short, simple statement about what’s important in life. Some are more diffuse and abstract in meaning. A personal drama, an enduring line from a poem or novel, a poignant song lyric, the legacy of an important person, a fleeting thought … these are the subjects of my art.

I use hearts often because they are a very abstract way of depicting the human soul without also employing the very subjective human form. The symbolic heart is an apt representation for a person’s experience and essence. A body can immediatly conjure happiness, sorrow, youth, age, anger, bliss. These emotions can get in the way. Sometimes it’s simply about the experience.

I am the son of a sailor and a social worker, the grandson of a gypsy, a dancer and a nurse. I spent my youth moving from port city to port city, watching a lot of road go by and reading World Book Encyclopedia. After my parents settled down on the Gulf Coast, I was a miscreant youth, destroying cars and taking the wrongs things too seriously and the right things not serious enough. Eventually I began replacing my imagination with experience.

I will use any salvaged wood but prefer swamp cypress and longleaf heartwood pine.

I despise waste. Particularly the waste of organic matter. Trees are magnificent. They were here before we arrived and they’ll be around after we are gone. I’m making an effort to save as much wood as possible. Creating art is fun too. But beyond communicating with folks, but beyond making money ad providing for myself, beyond rescuing flooded parts, beyond reveling in the ethereal aroma of heartpine that hasn’t seen the light of day in 400 years, beyond all that, I am trying to make a simple comment on waste.