A Day in the Ordinary Life of Stan Faryna

I’m Only Human

I blog about what’s in my heart. Or on my mind. I don’t blog much about me. Perhaps, because I don’t think my days and nights is good content. But I get feedback now and then.

Every now and then, someone will ask me to write about me and my day. Because, somehow, I don’t seem real enough to them. Not insincere – but as, someone recently wrote, “not real.” Like an imaginary friend.

“Like Harvey?” I asked with a grin.

“More like an angel,” they replied the next day. Who is Harvey?!

I reply: This is not going to be a five minute read.

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Human League, I’m Only Human

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moby and me: Easter Pilgrimage To Bucovina (part two)

If you missed part one of my Easter Pilgrimage To Bucovina, go here. Part two follows herein.

moby writes:

“oh, we’ve also put up the new album [Last Night] in its entirety on my myspace page (and it might be elsewhere on myspace, i’m not sure).”

Hear Last Night here (warning: product may contain peanuts, based on Schrödinger’s paradoxical thought experiments using quantum superposition).

Thanks, moby. Have a great weekend in Miami!

BTW, I think removing the forums was a great idea. Don’t cave to the mob of angry trolls. Comments to your journal should be sufficient to keep your website personalized and almost Web 2.0ish.

Below, a little background music: moby, Whispering Wind:

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St. Mary’s Church in Cacica

In a small Romanian village, I stood in an old church in the freezing cold. I stood shoulder to shoulder with the villagers. They were strangers to me. These people spoke another language, they worried about things which I did not worry about, and given the opportunity on any other occasion – most of them would be trying to sell me a square meter in their village for a preposterous amount – like nothing less than a million dollars.

Maybe, I exaggerate. But not by much. Been there. Done that.

And, yet, here we were in the same place and time, contemporaries, doing the same thing and not trying to get the better of each other. We were expressing by our very presence in that church, a desire (more or less) to be involved in something bigger than ourselves, bigger than our worries and everyday concerns, and bigger than our differences and our personal self-interest.

Standing there, I felt a strange community with these strangers as I reflected on the resurrection of Christ and anticipated a hot bowl of sour soup.