Was listening to Charlie Peacock's "Secret of Time" album in the car tonight. If you've never heard it, it's a Contempo Christian album circa 1989 with a heavy 80's new wave feel, filled with lyrics that could just as easily have been woven into to a deep, theological non-fiction book. Listening to songs like "Way of Love" and "Secret of Time," I couldn't help get a little sad, realizing that no matter how much I write, I'll never write anything that will come close to being as deep, as profound, and as moving as he did. Some of us are made to make deep, moving, and powerful works of art. Others of us are meant for something else.
Speaking of something else, here's a metaphorical piece about the wages of sin I shot three years ago over 4th of July weekend featuring a carnivorous cute and fuzzy alien from outer space. Enjoy!
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