Thursday, February 7, 2013

Keep Your Jesus Off My Tits

 "Fall to your knees
and bow to the Phantom Lord" 

-Metallica

While getting to know a recent lover of mine (something I'm not always terribly fond of doing), I asked him if he believed in god. He replied that he didn't have any imaginary friends when he was a child, & he wasn't about to start now. Though I did have an imaginary friend when I was little, she began to fade away the more cynicism seeped into my brain. As did my belief in the Lord (I was brought up a Roman Catholic). I vehemently resented religion for years, but my strong feelings have subsided and dissolved into apathy. I understand why people have faith and I accept it. It's not my bag- but neither is anal-sex & I don't care if people are into that either- so long as it's not forced on me.
At times I wonder if I did believe, might my struggles with depression be easier? I would have an entity to pray to, apologize to, to beg from and be humble for. I might welcome the concept of fate. Tradition could perhaps sustain or discipline  me when not knowing what to do with myself. It could offer a path instead of wandering this earth completely disoriented.
Please understand- this is by no means an invitation to sell me on religion or rid me of it. I'm quite certain that no organized religion (that I know of) is completely open and accepting of my lifestyle, though Quakerism may come close. That's still not good enough for me, beyond the fact that A) I don't know enough about it & 2. Though I think Jesus seemed like a swell dude, I will not begin to worship his message. In fact if I was to worship anything about Jesus, it might be his boner. I probably would have tried to sleep with him- were I alive in his time. Subversives, Israelis & hippies have a strong presence in my roster of lovers & I'm quite talented in regards to star-fucking, if nothing else.
It's a long life for some of us, and as we know tomorrow could change everything. I could become one of the crazies on the street rambling about our savior. That wouldn't be such a stretch beyond the fact that I might be more sociable with strangers & probably less offensive to most. What's the difference between me wishing on stars or at 11:11? Why do I read Tarot cards and flip coins to make important choices? Some of you who thought me somewhat intelligent are probably taking it back, but isn't wishing and praying the same thing? Praying and God have started wars, that's true.
We all know that it's not god at all, it's a little voice that comes from inside. We know what to do, we always know what the true answer is, the right way to live if we listen to it honestly and clearly.
It's just tough to tell if that voice is legitimate when you're insane.

ps. regarding yesterday's post: i finally dropped a deuce after enema #2. it didn't feel as disburdening as i'd hoped. when my psychiatrist told me he's ordered another fleet, i wanted to tell him i'd always loved fleet week, just not in my bum.

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