Category: Culture

  • My Holiday Gluttony

    It appears there is no limit to my holiday gluttony. Thanksgiving was a wretched exposure of my personal inability to say “no”. Christmas isn’t turning out much better. Less than 24 hours after arriving at my parents house, I am stuffed to the gills and haven’t even eaten in the last 8 hours.

    I’m not referring to a slight sensation of fullness. Oh no. I’m talkin’ about the full-fledged uncomfortable, loosen the jeans, and beg for mercy kind of full. It could take days to feel normal again, and it’s not even Christmas yet. It doesn’t look good for the home team.

    What have I managed to consume? Three massive crabcakes, french fries, bread, chips & queso, egg nog, and Dr. Pepper. Doesn’t sound too bad, right? Well, considering that I hadn’t eaten a whole meal in a day or so, it really wasn’t. Before the evening meal, I so famished that I ate the available tartar sauce without a chance of fish anywhere in sight. Bread was eventually served, and the rest was history.

    Let me take this uncomfortably vulnerable moment to welcome all of you back to the CultureFeast blog. My name is Daniel Dessinger, and I’m the impetus behind this madness. The wonderful thing about blogs is that you don’t have to use the same voice each time you post. One entry could be thoughtful while the next drips with sarcasm. The very next could be a professional entry discussing my SEO copywriting or interactive press release writing services (nice plug!).

    This holiday season, I hope to share with you the real inner workings of the holiday season – a play-by-play, if you will, of the mindnumbing eccentricities of our family’s celebration. But if that post doesn’t make it to your screen, don’t worry…

    …it just might be too bizarre for words….

    …and if not, it just means that I’m lazy.


  • Generation X?

    it is comfortable to watch a generation prefer to communicate sincere emotion instead of mere structure and principle. but this generation doesn’t seem to know what they are really saying. or what they’re really asking for.

    i watch my generation leading worship in my church, and i hear myself wonder, where are we going? where are you leading us?

    i want to participate in something glorious. at the same time, i cannot follow the herd simply because it is moving. direction is somewhat important to me.

    we are a heartbroken generation. we are filled with pain. looking for a place to vent. we are looking for a truth, a glory, a purpose, a meaning as powerful as the pain passed down from our fathers.
    i see young men and women singing at the tops of their lungs. i am both jealous of them and embarrassed for them, as they boldly display their mania.

    this generation cries out loud. heart firmly planted on sleeve. we will be heard. we will be noticed. and we will be loved. or we will scream out our lungs trying.

    what was it about the message of intimacy with God that bothered me? oh yeah…. it was that i cannot fathom how a God i could be intimate with could remain holy and not taken for granted. how do i respect, fear, and love a God who desperately longs for me? the concepts are not clearly explained.

    where are all the charismatic thinkers? the intelligentsia of the charismatic church?

    how did i become the doubting thomas of them all? i was the one who stepped out in faith just in case it was real. just in case God was going to deliver.

    now i watch them all. i am drunk by the song they sing. but i cannot join their song. i cannot participate in this. this generation doesn’t know what they are pursuing.

    here is my example. today, they sang a song, that goes something like this:

    God in my resting
    God in My working
    God in my thinking
    God in my breathing
    Be my everything
    You are everything…. etc, etc.

    Now, I know that the intended meaning of this song was probably something like God, be the reason i do every little thing, let me experience You in every little thing, let everything hold deep meaning….
    That’s good and all. But watch a bunch of 20 or so year olds singing “Be my everything” over and over, and maybe you’ll start wondering if they even think about what they’re singing.

    it all boils down to this: i am a part of a generation that has rebelled against our parents’ methodical way of living, praying, worshipping, loving, investing, etc. we are unstructured, emotional, aggressive, uncouth, bleeding hearts. we pride ourselves in our capacity to sing and speak from our hearts on levels of intimacy than our parents’ generation could really imagine. we believe that the truth and importance lies in how we feel. we can express how we feel in whatever way is the most cathartic since our hearts have been given priority over our minds.
    what else would you expect from a generation that spends more time watching television, listening to music, and playing video games instead of reading books, debating political, philosophical, and religious issues, and sacrificing self to achieve goals?

    obviously, not everyone is a “charismatic” christian, and i don’t mean to exclude the rest of you messed up people :). some people are open to spirituality as long as it is strictly unstructured. some remain loyal to hardline denominations that are losing numbers with each decade. some prefer fantasy and gateway occult activity. some are interested in being witches and warlocks. some want to be mediums and fortunetellers. some want to be prophets. some want to be pastors. some want to be apostles. some want to be evangelists.

    some are still partying or working hard, trying to avoid the most important questions and issues in life. after all, who really has the answers? who are you going to trust? who hasn’t screwed you over already?

    while you’re answering that question, let me take this moment to challenge each one of you. no one believes more in the importance of expressing and knowing the heart than i. but i challenge you to search beyond the feelings. there is more out there. continue to read, argue, pray, or whatever you have to do to put your thoughts into more intelligent sequence.

    some people think it’s funny to joke about men as being emotional children. it’s no funnier than men or women who are spiritual infants. infancy is a natural stage, but no one was ever intended to remain in that stage. if Generation X is ever going to fulfill whatever destiny it has, then it will have to mature beyond spiritual infancy.


  • Discovering Anselm Kiefer

    It was the fall of 2001. 9/11 was on the horizon. I was studying in Denmark for a semester and enjoying the early autumn light. My fellow students and I were given tours of several attractions and museums early in the semester. I was introduced to Anselm Kiefer’s work at the Louisiana Museum.

    I was captivated instantly when I saw Kiefer’s paintings. They had an industrial quality to them that spoke to me of the sadness and despair of the modern era. Factories, concrete, fascism, and war are themes that jump out to me. There was something lost to the civilized world during that period.I’m not exactly advocating tree hugging, but a sadness crept into the world with the loss of natural beauty and the introduction of smog, grinding metallic sounds, and cold steel.

    Gone are the days of warm tones and gentle breezes, peaceful meadows and openhearted human interaction. Kiefer depicted this change with such power. Swirling greys and blacks, smokestacks and the loss of color.I do not recommend his work to anyone looking for a cheerful, uplifting scene. However, the emotional realism conveyed in his work reminds us what we’ve forsaken, and causes the human heart to appreciate the cost of “forward progress” by experiencing a sharp sense of loss. I am told that not all of Kiefer’s work is so grey. I am told that some of it is even quite elegant and beautiful.

    For some reason, I am surprised. How does a man find it within himself to evoke both the depths and the heights of existence from his soul and pour them out onto canvas?


  • can you see

    i saw horrible things, my dear horribly wasted innocent babies

    your stomach would turn eyes would bleed and hearts would swell

    we live in a beautiful world choose your glances carefully

    shrivelled grass and skin blow in the wind like torn pages

    life is but a dream, they say tortured by bandits & penniless drifters

    neon markets and cannibals’ songs whispers carried softly upon stale breath