March 22nd, 2005


(no subject)

Feeling better today. Still some pain, but I can work through it, although I'm gonna take it easy as much as possible--just need to start a Digger and make a change to a sketch. (Already, just sitting here, I can feel the ache starting up in the back, like a sort of deep muscular hum--the engines are powering up, the plane is turning, any minute now we'll be taxiing down the runway, nonstop service to pain. But that's okay. I can work on the plane.)

Although I SHOULD take it easy today, do my work, and go lay down or something, I find myself inclined to write. It was prompted by something over at Websnark, a discussion of Chick tracts and religious writing for kids, and whatnot, and I found myself remembering perhaps my first moment of literary criticism, as a kid at Grace Community Church. (Talk about nonstop service to pain...well, anyway.) At Sunday school, twice a month they handed out a little kid's newsletter, six or eight pages, front and back, that always included as the main bulk of the letter, an illustrated tale of a child with a Moral Dilemna who goes astray, but eventually finds their way through bible readings or something. The quality was pretty hit or miss. (Apologies if I've told this take before--I may have. My memory's not wht it used to be.)
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