“What is my responsibility as a creator to the thing I create?”

Whether that’s a child, or a book, or an album, or a painting. I think if I create something, it’s my responsibility to love it and give it its best chance in the world. And if I don’t do that, not only am I betraying it, but I’m betraying my gift. And […] if you begin to hate the thing you’ve created, it can indeed become monstrous.

—A.S. Peterson, on his play Frankenstein (interview)

BEN: … so then [the radio] won’t mute while it scans between stations.
BOB: OK. Cause that’s where they live, right?
BEN: Um. No, you just want that constant static noise.
BOB: Right. The noise, that’s where they live.
BEN: They don’t “live” anywhere, dude. They’re ghosts.

EMILY: I didn’t hear a voice at all.
BEN: I guess it doesn’t matter – the ghost voices don’t really come out until you play back the recording later.
BOB: They only exist in recordings, like a copy without an original. A mirror reflecting something that isn’t in the room.
EMILY: Like the mounds.
BOB: The burial mounds here in town? You think they’re haunted?
EMILY: No … or, sure, probably. But I meant they’re like the reflection. The people who made them lived hundreds of years ago. That whole society is long gone, and now we just have these lingering echoes, without any trace of context.
BEN: Yeah, that is kind of eerie.
BOB: So the ghosts speak and we can’t hear it, but the tape recorder can hear it? Is that right?
BEN: I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s more like the recording itself is a ghost. Like, that’s what ghosts are. Recordings of events that didn’t happen. When something keeps leaving new marks even after it’s gone. False memories.

EMILY: A ghost is just an absent person, whether they’re dead or not.

Un Pueblo de Nada (Episode 4.5), Kentucky Route Zero 💬

Little soul, little wanderer, little charmer
Body’s guest and companion
To what places will you set out for now?
To darkling, cold, and gloomy ones
And you won’t make your usual jokes

💬 the epitaph of Emperor Hadrian,
(via the Emperors of Rome podcast)

Wonderful

And Manoah said to the angel of the Lord, “What is your name, so that, when your words come true, we may honour you?” And the angel of the Lord said to him, “Why do you ask my name, seeing it is wonderful?”

So Manoah took the young goat with the grain offering, and offered it on the rock to the Lord, to the one who works wonders, and Manoah and his wife were watching…

—Judges 13:17-19

In the humdrum busy of my life, I’d forgotten that God is wonderful. No matter if the rest of my life sometimes has a grey cast over it, no matter that I am dissatisfied for reasons I can’t even begin to articulate. Hasn’t God already done a wondrous thing by being part of my life?

O LORD, bring me to a position of wonder in you. I will still say, you are wonderful and therefore my life is amazing.

Paean to the maiden city.

My church is reading the entire Bible through this year in personal devotionals/studies. I’m currently in the midst of the Psalms, which pass through my mind like water: refreshing, but so hard to grasp once it flows into the past. But one psalm stopped me in my tracks…

Psalm 87
A Psalm of the Sons of Korah. A Song.

On the holy mount stands the city he founded;
    the Lord loves the gates of Zion
    more than all the dwelling places of Jacob.
Glorious things of you are spoken,
    O city of God.   Selah

Among those who know me I mention Rahab and Babylon;
    behold, Philistia and Tyre, with Cush—
    “This one was born there,” they say.
And of Zion it shall be said,
    “This one and that one were born in her”;
    for the Most High himself will establish her.
The Lord records as he registers the peoples,
    “This one was born there.”   Selah

Singers and dancers alike say,
    “All my springs are in you.”

Most of the Psalms, both petitions and praises, use rather concrete language that addresses their subject matters directly. So I paused at Psalm 87 because its language seemed a bit more oblique and metaphorical than the others. The subject is different too: instead of praising God, it praises Zion, the new Jerusalem, the City of God. The language is unusual, almost mysterious, and intimate in its mystery.

I wondered, What is so significant about being born in Zion? But I consider:

Hebrews 11:16—
But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.

I wondered about the last verse, which seemed such a cryptic ending. But then the answer came:

Psalm 46:4—
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
    the holy habitation of the Most High.

Revelation 22:1—
Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city…

One day the pilgrims will arrive at the New Jerusalem. One day the nations will say, This one is from the City of God. There they were born, born again.

Come to think of it, the city of God is constantly “anthromorphized” in the Bible. The bride of Christ, New Jerusalem. Hmm, how curious! This makes for a rather nifty world-building scenario…