Killer Fiction response

This is kinda (I say kinda, cause I ranted a bit on other things Todd shouldn't be blamed for inciting) in response to the comments made by Todd McKinney on the Killer Fiction podcast.. about my music and Blog. you can listen on itunes or subscribe to this very enjoyable and thoughtful podcast at:
http://www.killerfiction.com

If I had not put pride to death, I would be very proud to have my music highlighted on such a eloquent podcast. (sorry I had to throw in a little Christian humor for the occasion, bland as it may be.)

I took my son to his mother's house this morning, decided to skip Church and went to Barnes & Nobles where I worshiped at the Home and Garden bargain bin.. came home, ate a stick of cheese and pop-ed a beer. I felt a little guilty because I skipped last week too, I sat on the front porch and pondered the verse -"forsake not the gathering together". This verse has been used a few times on me by well meaning brothers, and countless times, on others, in my presence. (back before I joined the one true church; reformed Presbyterian.. another joke, calm down Baptist)

I looked up Forsake.
"Forsake": To give up (something formerly held dear); renounce:

"Ahh, I didn't forsake church, I just went to the book store today".. I felt better, and went to check the o'l email.

To move the story along, I listened to the killerfiction podcast and was pleasantly surprised. First: At my level in the music world (that would be the level where you just talk about what you used to do), it is un-common for anyone to deal with your music and/or thoughts with any real depth. Second: I was surprised that Todd was somewhat fair and honest in his discussion of my Beliefs.

Todd pegged me, If he met me, I would probably be just as he thought I would.. depending on the refreshments in the general vicinity. I'm afraid my comments on the show will come off a bit reactionary and preachy.. it's just how I always seem to write. In person you would never hear me say such things (depending on the refreshments in the general vicinity), but in writing I can say, what I can't say. if you know what I mean.

I'll try to respond here briefly to Todd.

Starting with the topic everyone loves - Abortion.
It is very difficult, for me at least, to talk about such a sensitive issue with words on a screen and convey my true heart.. mabye someday I will be able to write a song about the subject that could better represent my heart on the issue of abortion.
Those militantly opposed to my position will enviably see my words as hateful and oppressive no matter how delicately I try to write them.. so I will take that as a given and just go on with it.

I would like to convey that I have a awesome sympathy for women that find them self faced with this decision, and for those that have made this decision. So I would very much like to move the argument away from woman in general (though hardly possible), and their personal feelings and choices - on to what the argument should be placed upon. Humanity's conscious.

When we see genocide across the world, as humans, do we try to decide weather the ones slaughtering have a right to do so? Do we try to decided who has the right to kill who? Do we ask who's life is more valuable in the long run to the particular economics of the particular government, or even the personal welfare of a particular people that need to wipe out another people to live "Quality Life".

Of course, we don't even think such things.. we see our own kind, (humans beings)killed and hurt and we say this is not right! something must be done! (of course I'm speaking of humans not America).

Now, I know for some, this might seem a far stretch from abortion, but bare with me and look at the General idea of what I'm asking. I'm asking if unborn babies are human, are they alive? This is the only question we should be asking, because it changes everything. I don't care if you say "no! they are not alive". Or "yes they are alive, but they're not really human".. or whatever the case may be. At least you are talking about the real issue at hand. and that would be all I ask. This would cause people to at least be honest with themselves. The other issues of Rape and insest..etc.. I think, could then be delt with.

The same debate went on for slavery, "are they human, or are they not", it took us geniuses a while to figure that out... hmm. But once the argument was on the real issues.. the other issues of "rights" to own slaves, were as flimsy as Janet Jackson's bra.

Todd commented that he wished it would eventually become a rare occurrence, and I'm with him on that point...but as he said we don't arrive at it in the same way. But, just for fun Todd, if you evaluated the question at hand, and decided that "they" are a living being, would you be able to wait so long?

I appreciated the way Todd dealt with my thoughts on Abortion, but it is sadly a rare case.. for both sides. We should try to emphasize with one another, and understand one anothers deeply held beliefs. At the same time, lets cut through the bull shit of stifled careers and quality of life, and actually talk about what this issue is about.

As Todd rightly discerned about my personality, I am not one that would personally be out to change "you" with clever arguments or guilt. I don't believe anything I say will ever change a heart where it needs to be changed. That is truly something only God can do. Now, he may use something I say, but to make a point, he used a donkey to change someone too. But that brings me to the next point in my sermon...just as I planned.HA!

I'm impressed, as we should all be, when someone stands up for what they believe, in the presence of the advisories. I'm not talking about screaming what you believe at a parade with all your peeps back'n you up. I mean, when your standing in a office full of Christians and you say: Respectfully, I think your all wrong... and a little cooky at that!. and visa versa. I respect someone that disagrees when it's unpopular to do so...
To stand up for beliefs was once a virtue... it is not anymore. We think it is.. we see it in movies and on TV, but in real life... unless you are standing up for the USDA approved beliefs, it is shunned like Michel Jackson. (sorry for all the Jackson bash'n).

The most un-popular belief at the moment is any belief that says, "you are wrong.. and it's not just my opinion.". You can state your beliefs all night long to your direct enemy, and as long as you deflate the belief with "at least that's my opinion" or "but ya know, to each his own" or the most used "but what's right for me is not always right for you". That is not standing up for a belief, that is declaring your own belief impotent.. therefore no threat. It's a good way to make Friends, a good way to live a meaningless life also.

That's where Christians get into hot water. Because we believe that it's right for me, it's right for you and it's right for a dog named sue. In short, we believe in a absolute truth that is unchanging. That makes life very uncomfortable for us... and i would assume, those around us. Because, not only do we believe this, we have a obligation and a calling to defend this.... and, this might be hard to swallow, but that obligation is love. It's hard to swallow, because there are so many unloving Christians out there...(me at moments) that think that they are better than others, and that truly confounds me... because, as Todd pointed out that key doctrine of the faith (in the negative).. we should know above all others, our depravity.

Much of the problem falls on us proclaimed Christians.. in two opposite ways. A lack of love with others, and a lack of love with others. let me explain. The first lack of love is to say nothing when something should be said, when truth should be defended. The second lack of love is just a plain Damn lack of love; This would be your "so called" christian that walks around with a God hates Fags sign. Sorry to get off the point here, but when I see signs like that at hate parades, I always think of the sign God held up, exceedingly more condemning, with their name written all over it.. the sign was Jesus, and he took all your dirty secrets to the grave with him... you'd think you could at least be a little polite in public you idiots!

Ok one last final response and I gotta get some chicken in me. I in many ways agree with Todd's thoughts on the institute of the church. Truthfully.. a inside scoop. They are all a bunch of hypocrites! really! ... but so am I, as well as my friends.. and my Mother and Father, and Brothers... and I love all those hypocrites... I would jump in front of a slow moving ice cream truck for them without a thought. .. in a school zone.

Loved the show, I was moved, and intellectually stimulated by it... as you can see... and not just because it was about me! ha. (well...)
I wish you lived closer, I've been looking for a good keyboard player for ages.

I'll be listening from now on.
Thanks Todd.

Like a pressed flower

It's sad how fast the children grow. It happens in the dark as you sleep, in the dark, as you live and work and wither. Their little fingers, stretch out, large enough to hold your hand. Their legs grow large and cumbersome, too cumbersome to sit on your lap or shoulders. Their arms reach around you... where as before, they only clutched you.

I stood over my son as he slept tonight, something I hav'nt done in quiet awhile. I used to sneak in beside his bed every night, sometimes I would look at his delicate chest moving up and down and pray for his heart.... sometimes I would look at his seemingly innocent face and cry for the task before me, that for any father with love, is almost unbearable. Once or twice I cried for my sin in his room, as he slept, a baby; I would cry for that child I once was and the man I must be for him.

A weepy man you may say, and it is so, But never have I shed so many tears than with and for my son. Tears of regret, tears of worry, tears of fear, confusion the list goes on.

The reason I walked into his room tonight was a flash back I had, this memory caused my nose to run and tears to pucker in my eyes. A very simple and small memory, a moment of maybe five seconds in a life years ago. He was crying, he was scared to the deepest core... I don't remember what it was that frightened him so, maybe lightning, maybe a spider, a dream... I don't remember. I only remember the fear and utter helpless look of his tears and buckling little legs as he ran to me clutching me with arms that could only clutch and not surround. I had never seen him so afraid, and I hope that I comforted him and made him feel safe... but sadly, I don't remember that either, only the five seconds as he ran and clutched me.

I noticed his legs long, he looked like a miniature man as I stood over his bed tonight, and for some strange reason, he looked not as he should be... He should be small and delicate. Now he is tall and strong, everyday stronger and more potent, and me, every day, more tired, old and confused.

Those five seconds are, even now, a shadow, with ghost trails as he runs across the room to me, I pray that this memory, will fade no more. I loose so many memories of him as it is, as if I was never to posses him... only to love, cherish and protect him right now.

Peek-a-boo (Still Haunted after all these years)

The deeds of my youth that haunt me are too numerous to officially account for, fortunately the clouds of time cover many sins. But there are those few; those few that won't die, That still peek-a-boo the conscious with a question: what would have happen if I would have chosen different?

The particular thorn I speak of tonight was a choice I made in a fancy hotel room nearly 13 years ago, concerning abortion and chubby cheeks. Hmmm, your intrigued? Ha, well it's not as "Jerry Springer" as you hope for. It was a pressure put upon me to change a lyric in one of my songs that particularly condemned the doctors that performed abortion (Something about the sad irony of healers killing the needy children), There was also pressure for me to loose my chubby cheeks (the facial variety) to look more the part of the rock star.

Not many Ezra Thomas fans would know this, because it was a long time ago, way before Ezra Thomas was a gleam in our eyes. But I rubbed shoulders with the big wigs for a short time. There was a time in my teenage years where it seemed inevitable by all those surrounding, that my band would be the biggest thing to hit the hot plate sense sliced bacon.

We had LA management, number one college radio, major labels at the shows, long long meetings with publishing companies labels and lawyers in LA. It was almost a given that I was on my way up. I say "up" with my quote fingers. At the height of the excitement I had a meeting with "some Folks from LA", I'll leave names out, because I'm actually very fond of these folks. (And i might add, on the business side of things now, I understand why they would take such a position). I had a EP we were about to release, and they had some major concerns, Keep in mind I was still a teenager. The concern centered on two things, my open hostility towards the abortion issue in my lyrics, and my chubby cheeks. I sat in the glitzy hotel room, fighting for my songs and my cheeks against these millionaire business people from another country (California). I of course was outraged and a bit dumbfounded that they would even ask me to change my lyrics let alone my cute cheeks, they even offered helpfull replacement lyrics that had something to do with the environment.

I, at that age, argued with great conviction, that the label that had been looking at me (INTERSCOPE) would have no problem with the new song, they had all sorts of controversial artist that sang about killing the police because they were pigs, cutting off the Bitc$-as breast because they was unfaithfull, and robbing rape'n and slicing up the rich cause it ain't right that they should have it all... So, of course they wouldn't care about little o'l me singing a protest song, (non-violent of course) about the major pressing issue of abortion...Right? I mean, when did it become OK (and even cute) to sing about slap'n your bitch with a rod iron fence, cap'n a pig, etc, and a mortal sin to sing of respecting a child's life?

Well once again, I was young. Now days I could care less what the fakes of LA think, but then, I did care, I thought that my career moved and breathed by them, and they made sure I thought that too. So, in all sadness, I changed the lyric (to a economic injustice). I've had Acne and irritable bowels every sense.

It really does haunt me. You find out later in life, being true to thine own self pays far better than anything this compromising world could offer. It is not that I think things would have gone different if I wouldn't have compromised something so important, it's that I know, I would have gone so different if I wouldn't have compromised in that way. I lost respect for my self at that point, and it was all a down hill sabotage from there.

I finished the recording, and went into a tail spin that ultimately wiped out any prospects in the music business with vengeance. I spent years grieving this "small" little change. And, I'm very proud that I do grieve it. It's a rare thing in these days of fluffy opinions do we find a thought worth fighting for, or grieving the compromise of.

What do you believe in now so passionately that you would lay down your life to defend it without thought? If your from my generation, probably not much, if anything. We are generation without heroes. With empty passion longing to pour itself into a vessel true. We spend thousands of dollars at universities to find truth, to be taught there is no truth. We fight with weapons of soft feelings, subjective swords and sarcastic armor. We are a contradiction beyond imagination, protesting with violent spittle flying from our angst tight lips, over the mis treatment of bloodthirsty terrorist, while we kill a thousand a day of our own kind.

What is true? I have a hard time finding anyone that really cares about what is true. Or wants to argue in the bounds of truth, of course why would they? It's difficult, it takes much time, it has to step out of "you" to something beyond you... And that is just a little bit too far for the narcissistic mentality of this sadly, information rich, wisdom poor generation. I count myself in this number.

CHRIS WHITLEY 1960-2005

Writt’n sometime around Nov. 21st 05

I just learned a few hours ago that my life long (life after 17) songwriting hero, Chris Whitley, died of lung cancer on Sunday, (nov 20th) at the age of 45. It was not a shock ... but is slowly becoming one as I sit listening to his music. He was diagnosed with lung cancer 5 weeks ago and now, just a month later, he is gone.

I would like to say we have lost one of the greatest, imaginative songwriters of our generation... But I question my bias, Knowing that my relationship with his music is too close to judge in terms of his universal worth to a generation. Easily, I could say, not one person, beside my circle of musician friends, had heard of him when I brought him up in conversation - and most of them didn't care for Chris, beyond his first album "living with the law". Even my most trusted and like-minded band mate, Aaron Thomas, had a hard time digesting his music back in the day. But after much laborious proselytizing, (he would totally deny this) I convinced him of Whitley's pure genius in the CD "Terra Incognita". Now that CD would be named among Aaron's top 5 of all time.

At his shows, there where some hard core fans, like me, that loved and/or deeply appreciated everything he released, but I would say for the most part, from conversations before and after the performance, that the majority of the people where still hanging on to him because of his first CD. They would suffer the rest of the tunes to hear one or two songs from Living with The law, or "Dirt Floor" (in the same spirit of living with law). This saddened me... in fact; I would characterize all of my experiences at his shows as sad times. Whether it was the show in Austin SXSW where he could barley pluck the strings because he was so blasted... or the Gypsy Tea room show, where I thought his skeletal white pasty body might collapse under the weight of his worn steel guitar. I sometimes found myself thinking he was killing himself, not with the drugs, but with his music.

My affection for Whitley's music is hard for me to describe or find the root of. There is a time in a person’s life, when they are young, when the necessary walls and barriers of the spirit have not been constructed, when there is still a naive hope and curiosity in this ever elusive life. This is when Whitley's music attached itself to my conscious and has held on every sense, like no other artist could. It is not possible for me now, to love a music or artist in such a way, because that small break in the clouds of my life is closed... it was only open for that moment in time and never can open in the same way. There where two artist that made it in, Daniel Lanois and Whitley. I don't, and can't see music in such a lovely innocence anymore.

When I listen now, I see little blinking lights and faders... stereo images, running tape, tracks and mic placement. Kind of like OZ, once you peek behind the curtain, you can never see the world the same way. But to those few artist that are attached to my time of innocence, I still see and hear them with the magic of the cloaked world. This is why Chris is so important to my music-life and life-life. He is a rope that I can hold on to, that extends to all the events of my young life, a guide, like they would do up north between houses so you could find your way during a blizzard. I can follow his music through the blinding storm, to the safe warm fire of memories... some sad, some happy, some hurtful and dreaded - but all defining.

The first time I listened to his music I was 17, living in a horse feed room next to a pony named Trigger. It was his first album "living with the law', on a tape that had been dubbed at least 20 times and ran slower than the actual recording. (I didn't know this until years later when I finally bought the CD, and found to my disappointment that I had been listing to him for years at the wrong speed… It took a long time to get used to) I would lay in the shed with my friends all around listing to the tape for hours upon hours. Silent, we listened in awe to the acrobatic vocals performing amazing feats of agility and sadness. I knew every breath of every song every squeak of guitar string and creek of a chair hidden in the lush production. These where the most happy satisfied times of my life, I realized many years later.

Though I loved his music and lived on it, I don't think that I was much influenced by it in my own music (technically), if that is possible. I've never heard any resemblance to it at least. I think this was because his music was sacred to me, I could not listen to it with the technical ear of form and harmony, I listened to him with my soul and spirit. his sound seemed off limits to me, and too worthy for the musical junkyard of parts I pull from.

Goodbye Chris,
God bless the family he left behind.

Gen-x and y, z, ATTACK!

Should we Gen-x-ers look fondly on the revolution our parents fought to sexually Free us? Do you imagine the men of this revolution brave and noble, as they ran - cheeks flapping in the wind, copulating into any hole they could find… Selfishly indulging their every desire without consequence or commitment in the name of love? Not I. I kind of see my dog humping the side of the couch when I think of these brave souls that free'd America from restraint. Was Woman broken from her chains of man, and free at last to explore her own sexual desire? Well, I’m no scientist… but anyone can see where the evidence leads from this little experiment. What did they give us? Freedom? Freedom from what? restraint? I would say freedom from freedom; there is no freedom without restraint… that’s why we are a free country built on “laws”… Laws govern the universe. Is everything totally and utterly bound and directed by laws such as math, science, gravity etc… except us? Are we truly the only thing that exists out side a law, while dwelling and surrounded by laws of existence. No, of course not… this is a universe of law, of order… and our moral decisions are not out side of that, just like nothing else that exists is out side of that. This generation needs desperately to return to the natural law that America was founded on. To rebel against the rebels (our boomer parents), and seize back the family (The greatest and strongest institute of all time) before we destroy all that we love. What have the horny hippies given us? Well, Honestly… much good. But as all institutes and ideas of man, they might start well, but have nowhere to go but down. They might have had good intentions, and I’m sure many did, but the way that they went about it, the laws of morality they shattered, the travesties of selfish freedom they legislated, threaten to f#$% up the world beyond recognition.

What have they left us in their quest for freedom, but more and greater bondage? What is there legacy? I think it would be, the unprecedented spread of the most innovative and ramped sexually transmitted diseases known to man. And lets not forget the choice (right) to kill un-born babies, transformed into a cause of freedom (genius… simply genius). I mean really, when it’s all filtered out by history, this is what the last 30 or so years has been all about. Congratulations, on a revolution well fought and won.

Saying all that, I will say that some truly good things came from that time… but they destroyed more than they fixed. Like trying to swat a fly in our dining room with a baseball bat. The fly is crushed… but so is the china, your children, and the thanksgiving turkey. It is a testament to American pragmatism… the new religion. Solutions with out a end, end in endless solutions without a end. (I’m dizzy) But to what end? I don't think it much matters to us now. As long as the prozak keeps the kids out of our hair for the moment, lets not question it.

Galatians 6:7 - 9
Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.
And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.

will you still love me when I'm 64? Ok, just get back to me then.

what I know of sex, is opposite from what the world crams in our head everyday. We’re told that the best sex belongs to the single playa’s.. the sexually experienced.. the adolescent lust bunnies.. I’m surprised, (but think I shouldn’t be) how often in movies and conversations, sex comes up as this kind of litmus test, checking to see if your compatible. Or as a recreational sport - But we’re cheating ourselves of the truth of sex. Our casual idea of sex, is kind of like adopting a child for a few days or months or even a year… and saying that was fun.. lets send that one back and try another one… and another one and another one… all the while thinking you are experiencing better and better parenthood.. when truthfully, it’s nothing like being a father or mother. We’re missing the purpose and fullness of Sex.. Like the father & mother analogies, it takes a lifetime to know what it feels like to be a father, it takes pain, struggle, sadness, hurt, disappointment, joy, boredom, stress, loss, hurt perseverance... then you know fatherhood in it’s beauty and fullness. The same is true of sex and marriage. To say a sex life naturally fades through marriage, is like saying motherhood naturally fades through life with your child. And granted… sex in marriage does fade for some… why? I think because we are watching all the horny little adolescent charades on TV every day.. going “look Beatrice… that’s what it suppost’a be like”. What a horrible delusion we have built for our self. Like riding our ten speed mountain bike, and wishing we still had training wheels. Sadly, many of us never get past the training wheels. We halt our sexual growth in the adolescent state of mind, and of course this leaves us unsatisfied, always hungering for more, something more solid and real. Like tasting the beauty and satisfaction of reading as a child, but never moving past “where the wild things are” to Joyce, Tolstoy, Shakespeare. Just as these writers gather dust in this generation, the riches of sexual maturity gather dust in our society.

Sex is spiritual, like we would want to separate the "get'n Fat" from stuffing our face with yummy doughnuts, we also, in sex, want to separate the physical from spiritual - But, it is beyond us to undo what God has done. Woman from man, separated at creation, Sex is the reuniting of the feminine to the masculine, it calls to us from our very nature and origin. Though we are the wizards, In this age, of hiding nature by our material spells and potions, There is no escaping who we are, and the way we are made to function. Our natural desire In our fallen state is to escape our natural function, But this leads into only more and more desperate attempts to recover our natural spirit… but in distorted blind means, that in a cruel irony, lead us farther and farther from that witch we seek…If that makes any sense.

In early Jewish writings entering the marriage tent was sometimes called entering the holy of holies. Though this idea can be taken wrong as all ideas, it, in it’s essence, is the truth. For us to have sexual relations, in the boundaries and order that God has created -we glorify God, by working that witch “is good” in his creation. Whether we have allegiance to God or not, We are all under a common grace to his creation, that will bare fruits in even the most atheistic man or woman that partakes of a gift given by they’re maker to all kind. (the rain falls on the wicked and the just)

Test 123

Sorry we've had problems with the site... I think I'm back on. Can you hear me... test test.

a possession of stars

so cherished you are
a possession of stars
the galaxy's mass
confined in my heart

so cherished the pride
a sky open wide
folds in a pocket
soft in my side

So cherished the bliss
a ocean's abyss
weight of the deep
contained in a kiss

so cherished the night
all mountains of height
bend over trees
witness the sight

so cherished you are
possession of stars
the galaxy's vast
space in my heart



Copyright © 2005 Ezra Vancil

oath

An oath I have made that I can not keep
“as Christ loved the church”
{you lay asleep}
I ponder grace, mercy’s grand
Weight of sacrificial lamb
emptied glory, servant poor
for riches reaching every shore
an oath I made, thus, covenant
to rip the purse, completely spent
all of me, the known and dreamed
he gave his life, and lived for me
though he was rich becoming poor
I ponder this (for this once more)
glory restrained, for malice, pain,
Humility for sinners gain
loving un-lovely, making true
even the grave he humbled to
baring all, curse and stain, the wrath
for man and woman’s shame
becomes the bull on alters red
he had no place to lay his head
bending low, with every blow
he took on flesh, so “they may know”
By his will, he walks in love
divinity - the cross above
on his shoulders, the ocean’s weight
of drowning man’s wicked fate
this by mercy, not forced unto
to show the world what love will do
an oath I have made (before his face)
I can not keep - God give me grace



Copyright © 2005 Ezra Vancil

raw blood of war

My love is a ancient raw blood of war
man's scull crushing under hammer, sword
for your honor, purity, unblemished flesh
stained, brutality, pain and death
to prove, and claim your heart, and soul,
on battle field, steel blade cold
My dream as modern man (concealed)
to give no mercy, no life i yield
in animal roar, of masculine speed
bring forth the weapon, split forth the seam
with no fear, but age, blood on cage
animal beating heart of rage
on fields where man meets face of man
ripping flesh and daring stand
ancient, historic, primal, core
My love is a ancient raw blood of war

I disappear

I loose my self
in myself
and fear
often times
I disappear
not always so
as youth
as man
young the heart
i still could stand
outside gates
in every core
but weak
I hide now
close the door
peer out through
the looming night
see the man
who sits outside
empty of
his other part
hiding in
the lonely heart
I loose my self
and then I fear
you've lost a part
of me
in tears
one drop containing
each a piece
of what you thought
your love would be
I fail
I will, be lost sometimes
gone in fancies
of my crime
penance for
and from the slave
I am now, lost
in other days
I fear
too often
worry much
ten million thoughts
I can not clutch
like a fighter
seeing three
head shot punch
witch one is me
I loose myself
myself I fear
will loose you
when I disappear

Copyright © 2005 Ezra Vancil

Funnier

She’s Funnier than me
her wit
is cleaver
cutting
sly

She’s funnier
seriously
she must die!



Copyright © 2005 Ezra Vancil