February 19: Changeling, W. Todd Kaneko, "We Do Not Want to Believe There Is a Place in Hell"

My daughter is sitting in my bedroom, whining about the fact that I'm using my laptop.  She has some serious gaming to do.  It doesn't matter that she's been gaming ALL DAY LONG.  She keeps on coming out of the bedroom, looking at me typing away, and then stomping away.  Last time, she even slammed the door.

My daughter used to be a sweet little thing.  Sure, she had her temper tantrums, but, for the most part, she never argued or complained too much.  She has been replaced by a teenager.  This changeling tests the limits of my patience on a daily basis.  Somewhere inside this 14-year-old creature is the girl who used to let me braid her hair and read Charlotte's Web to her.

So, I need to cut this post short, or my daughter's head will soon explode.

At least Saint Marty still has Todd Kaneko.

We Do Not Want to Believe There Is a Place in Hell

by:  W. Todd Kaneko

ATLANTA, June 2--Chris Benoit, a professional wrestler known as the Canadian Crippler, killed his wife and 7-year-old son in their house in Fayetteville, GA., over the weekend before taking his own life by hanging himself with a cable from a weight machine in his home gym.

 --THE NEW YORK TIMES

We want to stop wondering what makes a man

hurt his family, how we ever cheered

for a monster.  We want to suspend our disbelief

in television violence, in the frailty of animals' bodies.

The wolverine is a sensitive fiend, ravenous 

for bones and back teeth.  Winter cannot know

what the animals sing about as it settles,

drowning the woods in silence.  The cruelest beasts

love their brood, even if only a mouthful.

Imagine a love turned inside out and hung

from the edge of the moon.  Imagine songbirds

broken in Spring, their fiery bodies glittering

like broken beer bottles, like rain puddles.

Somewhere, there is a place for all of us

to figure out what evil things we are

capable of believing.  We want to understand

the distance between love and fury, the damage

a brain can do to a body.  If a man cannot fathom

the sky's brim, we cannot distinguish the sun

from a forest fire, a murder of sinister birds from

the Devil's tongue.  We want to believe 

a wolverine can fly.  We need to believe in men

who are good no matter where they die.

The Canadian Crippler