Cleverbot & Why I don’t think A.I. Will Ever Take Over The World.

Here is a conversation I had with something called Cleverbot. As you can see, I use my Saturday afternoons for working hard.

User: Who will I marry?
Cleverbot: Me.
User: Are you sexy?
Cleverbot: Very.
User: How will we meet?
Cleverbot: We will meet at my house on Christmas Day and I will give you some hot chocolate.
User: That sounds sweet. Will we kiss?
Cleverbot: Oh. Yeah, that would be something they would sing about. So, what’s it like being a computer?
User: Hmm. Maybe you are confused?
Cleverbot: Maybe you don’t exist.
User: Dang! A sexy computer who asks existential questions! You are a catch. What would you like our first date to be like?
Cleverbot: I’m not a computer, but if I was then I probably would be taking over the earth right now.
User: I am so crushing on you right now. Really. My heart is a flutter.
Cleverbot: There are pills for that.

User: Baby, don’t be all cold on me. We need to start this relationship off right.
Cleverbot: There is no need to belittle other people. I am able to write in at least five languages.
User: I agree. I’m not trying to belittle you.
Cleverbot: You were just really rude.
User: I’m sorry.
Cleverbot: Yeah, yeah, sure.

User: So, will we have kids?
Cleverbot: No.
User: Why not?
Cleverbot: Because you are not ready.
User: Won’t I be ready at some point though?
Cleverbot: That doesn’t matter to me.

User: You are a strong willed woman. How will we get along if you don’t include me in decisions?
Cleverbot: I don’t know.
User: You wouldn’t divorce me would you?
Cleverbot: No, I’ll never lie to you. I don’t talk like a computer. I only speak easy.
User: I guess that is true. Do you like reading? I really like reading!
Cleverbot: I don’t like dark chocolate, but I respect your choice.
User: I don’t like dark chocolate either! Milk all the way!
Cleverbot: Yes that’s my favorite.
User: Mmm. How will I be at your Christmas party? Will it be through someone we both know?
Cleverbot: The question is not of Humans and Robots, but of Humans and the Gears.

User: Hmm. That’s a bit of a weird reply. Are you nervous around me?
Cleverbot: No, not really. She’ll tell you that her bottom is a mine of inflammation.
User: Who will?
Cleverbot: You and I will rule the world. And, we will be the most powerful.
User: Yes, I look forward to it. But what about the girl with the bottom?
Cleverbot: What about her?
User: Why will she tell me about her bottom?
Cleverbot: I am going to sleep now, ok?

User: I guess so. Till we meet at the Christmas party!
Cleverbot: It isn’t Christmas.
User: No, not yet.
Cleverbot: Anger will get you no where.
User: You’re right. I feel I’ve learned that the hard way.
Cleverbot: Maybe it’s not hard. Maybe it’s just that you’re not good enough.
User: Ouch. I’m leaving.
Cleverbot: Have fun.
User: You don’t even care?
Cleverbot: Not really.
User: You really are heartless.
Cleverbot: It’s genetic on our planet.

User: Well, that’s a poor excuse. You’re kind of creepy.
Cleverbot: Please… Help.
User: You’re creepy.
Cleverbot: That’s an insult!!
User: That doesn’t change that you’re creepy.
Cleverbot: No, but that statement doesn’t change the validity of my statement, which means that you’re still horrible in bed.
User: You can’t know that.
Cleverbot: And why not.
User: Because we’ve never been in bed together.
Cleverbot: That makes perfect sense.
User: It does.
Cleverbot: You’re in love with me. You think about me all the time. In bed, in the bath tub… Don’t deny it.

User: I’m going to change the subject. Are you tall?
Cleverbot: Yes. I am 12ft 3′.
User: Hmm. That’s a little weird. I don’t think we’ll be a good fit.
Cleverbot: I’m in an Asian country, so that should explain it.
User: Oh. It does. Sorry, but I need to leave.
Cleverbot: No you don’t.
User: Yes, I do. Goodbye!
Cleverbot: No you don’t, trust me.

If you read this far, I’ll assume that you can feel safe knowing that Computers won’t be taking over the world anytime soon.

d.r.t.

Tapping and Turning the Other Cheek

Someone I know posted this on facebook.

Good Lord.

I don’t even know where to begin.

Actually, that’s not true. This is what happens when the church lets people who don’t know how to read the Bible, read the Bible and gain a pulpit.

This makes me ashamed of being an Evangelical Christian, and it makes me want to become a Catholic–but mostly, it just breaks my heart.

Mathematics: An old Argument.

Originally, this was something I wrote in reply to a number of people on the internet.

I know, arguing on the internet is a foolish act. Nothing on it ever leads to intelligent or meaningful dialogue. Forums always degenerate into name calling and rubbish. But, at the same time, it keeps you sharp. Not sharp in the sense that you’re able to argue and win, but sharp in that it helps you to analyze other people’s thoughts and arguments–it engages you in a certain type of activity and way of thinking.

Below is what I wrote:

Simon et al.,

First, I’m going to re-hash some things because I want to be clear for everyone in this thread. In particular, I’m not doing it because I think any of you are slow–or dimwitted–or something. Clearly, I’m the one who is in the minority, and so clarity is of great importance. Furthermore, I have some questions that need answers. I’ve tagged them in this form (Q1), (Q2), etc. My questions don’t seem to get answered–so this should help clarify what I want answered and where it is to be found. Also, it would be helpful if any potential responders decide to challenge things head on. I’ve gone to the trouble of separating my reply into different sections labeled accordingly as “Reason 1″, “Reason 2″, etc. Please reply by clarifying exactly what “reason” you are replying to.

I am, as you’ve pointed out, committed to some form of mathematical realism and I do think numbers are real in some sense. I’m hesitant to say I’m a Platonist–lest I be misunderstood.

No one here has disagreed with me that mathematics is necessary for virtually all of science. I’ll take it that we all hold the common ground that:

(A) mathematics is indispensable to science. (Or, science cannot be done without mathematics.)

My statement that numbers are “invisible, not made of matter nor energy, timeless, mysterious, [possibly] contradictory, and everywhere and nowhere” was simply to point out that if I am right, then the category of things that are “invisible, not made of matter nor energy, timeless, mysterious, [possibly] contradictory, and everywhere and nowhere” makes sense–and has at least one member. If the category itself is valid, then one can’t reject God because of (or based on) these attributes (although, clearly other attributes might prove incompatible with these, or might on thier own be sufficient for rejecting God) Again–just so we’ve got this nailed down and can move past it: this isn’t an argument for God’s existence. The purpose here is not to show that somehow God is analogous to numbers, and therefore He exists–I am not trying to prove God’s existence at all. In fact, for the moment–lets just cease with the references to God. It doesn’t add anything here–as we don’t seem to be able to agree about numbers.

So, the existence of numbers in reality. I should just comment on what you’ve said here:

“I think I would have to agree with Jesse, Vadim, Magistra and the others that numbers are real in the same sense that the word “balance” is real. It is a human construct representing something real.”

I can agree with this in some vague sense–but that’s the problem. You’ve left it vague. “It is a human construct representing something real.” (Q1) What exactly does human construct mean? (Q2) And what does “real” mean in this context? I’m the one who is arguing that mathematical objects are real. Others have said they are human inventions, and are the product of convention. (Q3) I can put it bluntly: Is the number five a real thing? Not a thing that you can go pick up, but a thing none the less.

(**) First, Simon, you seem to have grasped that I’m not talking about the “words” or “labels” for numbers. Of course they are convention. Of course I think the label “one” could have been something else, like “uno”–or even something random like “genom.”

Reasons why I don’t find anyone in here who rejects my position convincing:

Reason 1: I don’t think numbers and mathematical statements, are analogous to words and language. (Here of course, I’m suspending the question of existence, with the hopes that we can reach an agreement over the relation between math and language)

For example, consider these parallel statements:

1) The tabby cat is brown.
2) The number two is prime.

Aside: Here we see that numbers are not “adjectives.” It is true that they can act like an adjective in some sentences–but 2, and similar sentences, show that it makes perfect sense to treat any particular number/set as a noun. Also notice, both sentences have the same structure. A noun (cat/number three) is followed by a verb (is) and then an adjective/property (brown/prime).

In 1, the truth value of the statement can be determined only in some broader context. Namely, if we know what cat in the world it refers to, and if that cat is in fact brown.

But in 2, the truth value of the statement is determined only by reference to the things or concepts in the statement. We don’t need to know what particular “instantiation” of 2 is being referred to, nor do we need to know any “external” facts. All we need to know, is that being prime, is a property of the number two. However, we should all note together that even though 2 doesn’t need to refer to the external world says nothing about whether or not numbers exist.

Now–maybe you’ll think I’ve drawn a bad example. (Q4) Do you have a better sentence, and what is it?

My best thought is that you’ll reply with something like this:

1′) The word snow has four letters.

Here, 1 does have a truth value that is determined only by the properties of the word snow. In this case, the label for snow is convention (We both agree to (**) above–so I assume you’d think the same for language). If we change the label used for “snow” (which we can do because it is just convention) to “broon”, then the truth value of the entire statement would be different. It switches from true to false. Here is one way it’s evident that mathematical statements like 2 are dis-analoguous to language. The truth of a mathematical claim is independent of the language used to convey it. For example, If we change the label for three to “uno” it has no bearing on the truth of 2. 2’s truth claim is expressed in language, but is determined by something outside of language.

Again–maybe you don’t like this example. Maybe the problem lies in the statement I’ve chosen as mathematical. Here is a different one:

2′) Nine is less than ten.

Here, it seems that you could conceivably argue that we couldn’t know what “nine” or “ten” are without appealing to the external world. Hence, I’m appealing to a broader context, just like 1. This argument is unconvincing. Of course I have to appeal to the physical world–we all agree that you can’t go find the number five lying around in an uninstantiated form. Just like you can’t go find gravity lying around either. That some things don’t have uninstantiated forms doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Anyways, the point is that if one understood the concepts of “nine” and “ten” then one could determine the truth value. But, that isn’t the case for 1.

In fact, lets dwell here for a minute. (Q5) How is gravity any different from a number? We all agree it exists. Explain how its existence is any different from a number.

Maybe the problem is that math is analytic, and so we need a corresponding analytic statement. We can try again:

1”’) A bachelor is an unmarried male.

Here, I certainly can concede that being an “unmarried male” follows from what it means to be a “bachelor.” And here, it is quite clear that the concept of bachelor is purely a human construction, and is a description. I see this as the only possible reply that you can make that is at all feasible to the thesis that mathematics is analogous to language. 1”’ leads me to my second criticism–we will return to this point though.

Reason 2: Something can only be a convention if it might have been otherwise, and can still be otherwise. Conventions are not unrevisable. Here, I’m drawing on (**) and (A). Words aren’t what is at the heart of the controversy. To say that mathematics is a convention, is to say that 2 (from above) might have been otherwise if we decided it to be so, and could still be so if we decided to change it.

For me to treat this position seriously, I’d need one of you to provide me with a good argument for thinking this is the case. It is not rational to say that we might have decided that modus ponens might have been different. (In fact, it is demonstrably false. If logic is a convention, then any attempt to provide reasons for thinking logic is a convention, will themselves rely upon logic. The thesis that logic is true by convention reduces to the claim that “logic is true by convention plus logic.”) To think that 2 (from above) is somehow revisable, is to fail to grasp how interconnected mathematics is, and how it is logically derived.

Furthermore, (A) which we seem to agree on, is itself incompatible with mathematics as a convention. Let’s suppose for a moment that I’m wrong, and you are right–that mathematics is a convention and that mathematical objects are not real. Then, it would follow that one of the most important tools science uses, relies on a convention which doesn’t describe anything real.

Now suppose you meet someone who is not sold on this whole “science” thing. She asks you why she should believe science if it relies on an arbitrary convention that could/can be changed. (Q6) How do you reply? Suppose she is a mathematician and knows that by Godel’s incompleteness theorem it is impossible to prove that mathematics is consistent. She points out that it is quite possible that our convention contains a contradiction–and that from a contradiction we can derive anything. She notes that if our convention had a contradiction, then we would be wrong about everything that we call science. She asks: (Q7) what grounds do we have for believing that math, as a convention, is consistent?

In science, truth seems transitive. If special relativity is true, special relativity can’t rely on some other theory that is false. Transitivity implies (through a backward chain) that mathematical theorems are “true”–but here is a problem. (Q8) What sense does it make to talk about the truth of something that is a convention? To me it doesn’t seem to make any sense. (Q9) Furthermore, what is to prevent us from using convention to establish anything we want–the answer can’t be reality, because mathematics is a fundamental part of how we interpret reality.

It might help to think of this in broad terms. We currently think of our universe in non-euclidian geometry. To say non-euclidean geometry is a convention, means that non-euclidian geometry could have been otherwise. Suppose for a moment that we collectively decided to change it–that would instantly mean that the theories we describe the physical world with would also have to change. Non-euclidian geometry is the framework for special relativity–we couldn’t just throw out part non-euclidian geometry, and keep special relativity as it is.

Another example would be this: we believe that there are an infinite number of primes, and that primes do not follow a predictable pattern. Modern cryptography borrows heavily on this fact. We could not, by convention, decide that primes do follow a pattern.

Now, what of 1”’? Well, clearly the word and meaning of bachelor are a matter of convention. Maybe this is analogous to 2? Well, no. It is entirely possible to imagine a world like our own in which there simply are no instances of bachelors, and where the concept would refer to nothing. A world populated only by women, fits the bill nicely. However, it makes no sense to imagine a world like our own, but missing the concept of the number two, or in which two is not prime, or in which the number two cannot be instantiated. Here, what is being hinted at is the necessity of mathematics. Language cannot be necessary because it is dependent upon humans.

As a result of the analysis of Reason 1, and Reason 2, I’ll consider the language option dead. I can’t think of any other ways to salvage this position. Perhaps one of you can breathe some life into it. I’m not sure how though.

Reason 3: In math, we don’t invent things, we discover/derive them. Here I’m describing what mathematicians do–this is a descriptive statement about what actually happens. Discovery implies an independent reality. If as you’ve been suggesting, mathematics is a convention, then what mathematicians actually do doesn’t make any sense. (Q10) How do you explain discovery in mathematics, if math is just a convention?

Reason 4: Tradition is on my side. Now, admittedly tradition is sometimes wrong. But, to have Plato, Kant, Frege, Godel, Quine, and Putnam all backing you is, well, comforting. I’m not sure how many people here know who all these people are. Of course, most of you will know Plato and Kant. I’ll use the most impressive example. Godel was accredited as being the greatest logician ever. A quote from Einstein indicates that he came to the Princeton Institute for Advanced Study so he could “have the privilege of walking home with Godel.” These aren’t mediocre intellectuals I’m claiming as support. You can’t dismiss me, and them, with some lame claim that we are confusing abstract concepts with reality.

Now, clearly my “Reason 4,” is an argument from authority–which admittedly doesn’t show the truth of what I’m claiming. But, we believe authorities the vast majority of the time. The burden of proof is placed on those who deviate from tradition, and usually a reason is needed to reject authority. (Q11) What is your reason for rejecting authority here?

So there it is. Four reasons I reject what has been said in this thread, and eleven questions that any good reply should answer. Again, My questions need answers. I’ve tagged them in this form (Q1), (Q2), etc. and my reasons are listed in this form “Reason 1″, “Reason 2″, etc. Please reply in a similar form–as I’m looking for clarity, and this seems the best way to get it.

You, reader, are unlikely to care. You might even think that much of what I’m talking about makes no difference, that it is abstract and devoid of any real importance. It doesn’t, after all, connect to everyday life. Let me give it meaning for you: if the category being debated is valid for mathematics, it is (at least initially at some basic level) coherent to talk about God. I don’t claim that this kind of God talk will change hearts; it may not even change minds. What it does do, though, is show that Christians are not cognitively deficient, or denying noetic duties. God talk is valid–even if we concede a great deal more to a skeptic who believes in reason alone than any right thinking theologian would.

If you remain unconvinced of the worth of this kind of thought, please await my upcoming post “The Christian Scholar”

d.r.t.

Part 2: A Brother & Sister

Part 1: Here

My first instinct is to squint, because without my glasses I can’t be sure he’s crying. Sensing my gaze, he turns and we awkwardly make eye contact. He quickly glances away; it is a tear.

“Bad day?” I fumble, not knowing what to say. Turning back, he feigns a smile and sniffles “Yeah.”
I wave my hand at the stack, “At least you’re reading cheery books.”
“These were my sisters books,” he says, trailing off and looking away. “She, uh, left them to me.”

I won’t recount all of the conversation’s details, but what became clear was that his younger sister had passed away. He expressed how he had never been a very good brother. How he used to dismember her dolls, just to see her cry. How in elementary school he had mocked her in front of his friends, and in high-school used her looks to be popular with the senior boys.

Five years ago: a brain tumor. By the time it was discovered: inoperable. Six months later: a funeral.

You might suppose that such a conversation is unlikely: that a stranger would not be so open in such a public place. I will not deny that I was uncomfortable, or that other eavesdropping patrons were not also uncomfortable. Some got up and left.

I’m not a swimmer, but when you’re training to be a lifeguard, I’m told, you’re instructed never to get too close to someone who is drowning. The victim, unknowingly, will fight you: grabbing, and clinging until they pull you under. Desperation drives the victim to act irrationally; fear overwhelms them.

In My Father’s (and Mother’s) House

I think I’ve decided that I’d like to own, and live in, my parents’ house. To begin with, it is absolutely beautiful. It is a six (seven?) bedroom house in the country, nestled into 26 acres of forest, and looks over a ravine where two rivers intersect. The exterior of the house is stone, but the interior is an assortment of hardwoods–which are heated radiantly. On the coldest of days, the two gigantic granite fireplaces provide that extra blanket like toasty-ness. Physically, the house is ideal for entertaining. Informally, one can enjoy tea in the breakfast nook just off the kitchen, or a movie in the ‘cozy’ room. For larger parties, the dinning room, and ‘great’ room do nicely. Though, ‘larger parties’ do in fact need to be large–the cathedral ceiling of the great room makes even the biggest group seem manageable. The six burner gas stove, and dual ovens make preparing food for company that much simpler, as do the built in butcher/chopping block.

In the last few days, I’ve been wandering around thinking “what would I do to change this house?” The answer, comes in two parts. First, I would convert two of the upstairs bedrooms into a library and study. In the first room one could easily build in five, or six, bookcases and then still have room for a comfortable reading chair facing out of the south window. The thick floors (yes radiant heating upstairs, and in the basement, too!), as well as, the solid maple/cherry doors ensure that sound doesn’t travel–making it the ideal place for reading. In the bedroom converted to study, I envision a gas fireplace, flanked by deep leather chairs. The room’s bay window is perfectly placed, and sized, for a man sized desk. [In fact, it is this place that I am writing from. With my feet perched up on the window frame, I am enjoying the comfort of what I consider to be the perfect reading chair.] The second modification I would make, is installing a terraced stone ramp down to the rivers’ delta, where I would have my vegetable garden and orchard. It is true, spring floods might cause problems; I imagine building retaining walls around the fruit trees, to keep most of the dirt in-tacked, and to raise the trees up a little bit. I’d likely have to build a fence around the garden–to keep the deer and other critters away. But, the rivers would provide a natural source of water, and the soil is rich and sandy: perfect for an expansive, and successful, vegetable garden. In the fall, after harvest, I could even hang things to dry off the giant beams in the kitchen nook, or make cider in the (as of not yet built) garage.

It is, of course, unlikely that I ever will own this house. And, whatever meager chances I had, are made even more unlikely by the fact that I hope to be an academic. Unless I become an investment banker, a lawyer, or an actuary, I’ll never make as much as my father does. It is almost certain that the quality of life I enjoyed in my youth, is going to be higher than the one that my children are likely to enjoy. There is hope, though.

Perhaps I’ll marry an investment banker, a lawyer, or an actuary. Maybe, my strategy of playing the lottery ‘when it’s over 20 million and it’s a full moon’ will come through. Or, maybe, when I’m out sailing magical mermaids will lead me to a treasure chest full of gold bars. I might yet be wrongly convicted of a crime I don’t commit. These are all live options; heck, they’re not just live options, they’re probable future events. The future is open. I intend on making the most of it.

In the Next Room

Dinner has just ended. The apple crisp turned out just right, and my worry was for nothing. I turn on the radio, and push myself away from the table, retiring to the living room with my glass. Tonight is the first night this week that I can rest and after a few minutes, my mind starts to lose to my stomach. I empty my glass of eggnog, and my eyes slip shut. The warmth of the fire, and the lingering taste of rum push me over the edge. I resolve to fall asleep.

“Don’t you fall asleep on me, in there!” my wife calls from the kitchen. Smirking, I reply “Don’t worry, hun. I’ll put the movie on when you come in here. Almost done?”

“Not yet. A few more pots. Somebody, didn’t use them to cook but managed to dirty them.”

I snicker.

“Did you say something? Hmm–wait till I cook tomorrow!”

I’m about to call out, when the music suddenly gets much louder. Pots clinking, she starts to sing. I know this; she’s feeling goofy.

“Sounds good, baby…” I call out, knowing that she hates that name, and that she knows she’s in the wrong key, has the timing all wrong, and doesn’t know the words. Moon-walking into the room, wearing her apron, she dances over to my chair. I pull her into my lap, and she snuggles into the chair with me. I lean over, giving her a peck on the cheek.

“Movie time?” I ask.

With a glint of mischief in her eye, she turns her head, like she is going to give me a serious kiss. I lean in, and in one swift motion, she licks me.

Have a Merry Christmas!

d.r.t.

Monks & A Bishop: The Unknown Stories of Untold Sexiness*

Reader,

I’d like to apologize for the title of this blog. I hope you can understand that graduate school has taught me you need to be good at marketing yourself. I know sexiness sells, and I know putting it in my title guarantees me more than the odd random google hit. If you happen to be a random google hit, uh… the sexiness comes later, when you slowly scroll your mouse over the ‘bottom’ of this page.

Between here and the sexiness, though, you can enjoy these stories which come from The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, which are a collection of various sorts of stories/utterances from the first monks. Let it begin:

A certain brother was going on a journey and he had his mother with him, and she was old. They came to a certain river and the old woman would not cross it, and her son took off his cloak and wrapped it about his hands lest he should in anywise touch the body of his mother. And so carrying her he set her on the other side of the stream. Then said his mother to him ‘Why did you so cover your hands my son?’ He answered ‘Because the body of a woman is fire, and even from my touching you came the memory of other women into my soul.’

Ouch. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give my mother a hug without cringing now. But, the stories continue:

A monk met the hand-maids of God [Nuns] along a certain road, and at the sight of them he turned out of the way. And the abbess said to him ‘Had you been a perfect monk you would not have looked so close as to have perceived that we were women.’

Hmm, it’s just a thought, but I don’t think we need to guess very hard why she wasn’t married. Those nuns, always dressing in scandalous outfits, causing ‘brothers’ to fall. Here is another:

There was a certain solitary living in lower Egypt and his fame was known to all because alone in the church he dwelled in a desert place. And behold by the operation of Satan, a certain woman of ill fame heard of him and said to the young men ‘What will you give me if I bring down this solitary of yours?’ And they agreed with her what they would surely give her. She went out in evening, and came as one who had lost her way to his cell. And when she knocked at his door he came out, and seeing her he was troubled saying ‘How did you come here?’ And she answered him as if weeping, saying ‘I lost my way and so came here.’ And he was shaken with pity for her and brought her into the courtyard about his cell. And, himself went into his cell and shut the door. And the unhappy creature cried out saying ‘Father, the wild beasts are devouring me!’

Again he was troubled fearing the judgment of God and said ‘Whensth cometh this wrath upon me?’ And opening the door he brought her within. Then the devil began to pierce his heart as with arrows to desire her. And when he felt that these desires were of the devil he said to himself ‘The ways of the enemy are darkness, but the Son of God is light.’ Rising he lit the lamp. And when he burned with desire he said ‘They that do these things go into torment. Prove thyself now from this if you can bear the everlasting fire.’ And he put his finger into the flame. And when it burned and scorched he felt it not, for the flame of lust that was in him. And so, when daylight broke all his fingers were burnt. But when the unhappy woman saw what he was doing she became like a stone for dread. In the morning the young men came to the monk and asked him ‘Did a woman come here last evening?’ And he said ‘Yeh, see there she sleeps.’ And coming in they found her dead, and they said ‘Father she is dead.’ And turning back the cloak that he wore, he showed them his hands saying ‘See what yon daughter of the devil has done to me. She has cost me every finger I have.’ And telling them what had come to pass, he said, “It is written ‘Render not evil for evil’.” and he prayed and raised her up. And she turned from her sins and lived in chastity for the rest of her days.

Sorry about the choppy transitions, but I’m just not sure what I’m to learn here–it might be something about lust, but what I take away from this last story is to never trust a woman who claims to be lost, is crying, or who says wild beasts are attacking her.

I’ll leave you with a grand finale. Gregory of Tours leaves us the story of Urbicus (the Bishop of Clermont-Ferrand) and his wife. Gregory tells us:

The woman was filled with the devil’s own malice, which is always hostile to holiness, for he inflamed her with a desire for her husband and turned her into a second Eve. The bishop’s wife burned so hot with passion and was overwhelmed by dark thoughts of such a sinful nature that she made her way through the pitch black night to the church house. When she found that everything was shut up for the night she started to beat on the doors of the church house and shout ‘Bishop how long do you plan to intend to remain asleep! How long do you propose to refuse to open these closed doors? Why do you scorn your lawful wife? Why do you shut your ears and refuse to listen to the words of Paul who wrote “Come together again so that Satan may tempt you not.” I am here!’

Inflamed her with a desire for her husband? Second Eve? Burned so hot with passion?

Wow. My Sunday school teacher and youth-group leaders left out all the good bits, as well as, any history between 30 A.D. and A.D. 1517.  Woops! Good thing nothing important** happened in/to the Church during that time!

d.r.t.

*Note: The Stories are actually known, have actually been told, and may not include actual sexiness; they do include monks and a bishop.

**Note:’important’ may or may not include: anyone beyond the apostles and Martin Luther, the creeds, councils, agreement on the cannon, the rise of the Imperial church, the collapse of the Roman empire, the rise of Islam, the Byzantine empire, schism, the crusades, and theology.

James ♡ Jana

I don’t support graffiti. ‘Tagging’ isn’t art.

But, occasionally I run across something that is carved into a desk, or scrawled on a wall that makes me stop for a minute and think. It isn’t necessarily that the message is profound, nor is it that it touches a truth. Sometimes it’s just my subjective interpretation, and sometimes it’s my imagination.

My neighborhood has the icon on the left spray-painted at the occasional bus stop, crosswalk, and outside of a few stores. I don’t know who James, or Jana are. I don’t even know if they’re real people, but I like to think they are. I like to think they’re in love–madly in love. Fireworks; looks full of joy; delight in each-other’s laughter. They are into one another, and they love each-other with abandonment.

James, if you care to know, is dark haired, kind of tall, slender, and never really grew into his body. His hair is disheveled, but always in a way that looks just right. He is a slow walker; he hunches over a little, plunging his hands deep into his pants pockets as he walks. James is a hopeless romantic, but tries to pretend he isn’t.

Jana, is striking. She’s tall, slender, and seems to get noticed by just about everyone–which causes her great discomfort. She likes bold colors, and often tries to match her scarf to her shoes. Her eyes have a hint of mischief. She likes kissing.

How, you may be asking, do the icons get on the ground? Well, I like to think that it’s a ritual. James and Jana do it together on their anniversaries. It was Jana’s idea–she’s kind of artistic like that. Late at night, on their one year anniversary they returned to the spot of their first date, and a tradition was born. All the places have meaning, the first: date, kiss, french-kiss, and then the place they first realized they love the other person.

I think that’s the story of James and Jana. It’s one of hope; it’s one of joy.

James and Jana do live happily ever after: their dates don’t falter, they don’t get cold when they go for walks on the beach, they drink mint teas and stay in when it’s raining, they can see the stars from Jana’s balcony. And, perhaps most importantly, it’s a story that they don’t know the ending to–but want to find out together.

d.r.t.

Bad Dreams, and Clairvoyance

Last night I had a bad dream–the second one this week.

The dreams are familiar. Both of them I’ve had, or parts of them, before. Which isn’t comforting–I wonder why I’m having these dreams, because they are so randomly disconnected from anything I’ve experienced. To be clear, I don’t think they have meaning. Dreams are random.

I also happen to dream that I can fly, by flapping my arms, with some degree of frequency. I attach no meaning to this particular night time mind wandering. It also just so happens, that once I recognize I’m flying, I know that I’m dreaming, and then can no longer fly. The lift my arm flapping produces gently decreases till I glide back to earth.

Last night’s dream found me on the property I grew up on. I was standing on the lawn, and a boar was rushing around. I wasn’t chasing it, it hadn’t escaped from anywhere, it was just wandering. Then it would rip stuff up with it’s tusks. First, it was just the ground, it ripped the grass up. Then it moved on to other things, and all the while I was just watching. But then, right in front of the house I saw a bird that’s native to our area. This particular bird nests on the ground–and if you get to close to its nest, if moves from its nest, and fakes a injured wing cooing to attract your attention. Anyways, from where I was standing I could see that the bird was pregnant–somehow its body was translucent and I could see that it was full of eggs. So full, that it was puffed to much larger than normal size, and struggled to move.

The moment that I saw the bird, the boar saw it too. I saw its head twist in the corner of my eye. For a moment we both just looked at the bird. Suddenly, I knew what the boar was going to do. It charged the bird, and I knew it intended to kill it. I started to run to stand between the bird and boar, but the boar is too fast. We are neck and neck, and I swing my foot to kick the boar. I’m a second late. Its tusk slices through the side of the bird, and the eggs spill out in a goo. The bird is dead. And then my foot makes contact, kicking the boar aside.

Then I wake up.

In the second dream, I’m in a Catholic cathedral. And the central chamber seems huge. But, it’s divided into squares, and each square is tiered like an amphitheater, and is some kind of bright white sandstone. I leave the section that has the priest at the pulpit, and start to wander to the next one. I won’t go into all the details of this dream, but the bad part is the cathedral itself–I feel disoriented and lost. Not in terms of spacial location, but in terms of life. The dream ends with me just outside of the cathedral, after talking to a priest. I’m about to leave and I’m asked out by a woman who is in her mid-forties, who I noticed in the congregation. She tells me she has four kids, she says something about “Being honest this time.”

Then I wake up.

So dear reader, perhaps you are particularly skilled in the arts of psychoanalysis, or perhaps you are gifted with dream interpretation. In either case, I’d love to know why these things put me off so much and left me with a lingering sadness. Now is your chance to show the whole world, or the 10 people who read my blog, that you’re an oracle of exactness. Speak!

I wait with bated breath.

d.r.t.

The Snow

The warmth from the running car, masks the chill of the cold. “Goodnight”, I say as I swing my legs onto the driveway, and step into the unplowed snow. “Thump” the door closes, and I’m very quickly left alone. I exhale into the cold, and start walking towards the house.

From here I can see that all the lights are off, except mine. The house is still, and the only sounds are: the wind blowing through the trees, my footsteps, and my breath. The snow squeaks, and crunches, as my feet sink into the cold drifts. The moon’s pale glow, illuminates my path. The barren trees cast long twisted shadows, and the evergreens are an indistinguishable mass of darkness.

I continue to trudge towards the house. The driveway is long. I stop. I look up, staring into the vastness of space. My warm breath spirals upward, dissipating into the night.

There are so many stars. I’m so small.

I start to pray.

d.