Thursday, May 26, 2005

Wild Blue Yonder #2045

Why I Am Not A Christian



No more cool miracles like turning water into wine or making dead people alive or blind people seeing the great meal for thousands with just a few fish clearly caught by a dry fly fisherman with some bread that turns into a lot of bread. I’m sure there are other miracles that I can not remember but there are other reasons as well like the live oaks in Spain full of dear dead heretics who just happened to be Muslim & black though not for lack of inventing the alphabet or spreading papermaking out of China although I am no fan of Arabian horses since the girls who ride them seem to just want to whack them with crops to get them to behave & it is possible that their girl or boy friends might appreciate the tight pants & leather while being whacked & whinnying in the cool moonlight.

Or we can move further up into Massachusetts with burned bodies littering Salem like all the other bodies with minds out of time eating salt & turkey provided by the Indians but thanking some longhaired god who for his own glory apparently murdered his own child & left him twisted in the dry wind for some Greeks who could run 26.2 miles like nobody’s business. & then wear a crown of MYRTLE???? not a crown of thorns which let’s face is tacky & then there’s the blood problem. & deep, deep inside each sentient & non-sentient being is the reality that they will be ultimately blindsided by their own deep nature that is the same nature as every Tennessee Walking Horse has only the horse nature is way closer to the open air & if you think a Tennessee Walking Horse is a sentient or non-sentient being you would be wrong & certainly in the further twilight orange falling leaves would say you are right.

Or the slumbering through orgasm after orgasm thinking only of Luther or the scourge of the body Augustine first sleeping drunkenly with pigs then with whores then hypnotizing himself with some artifact out of the graveyard that had not been dug up by wolves or grave robbers & moving away from the body so far that it all became a twice thinking spectacle that spawned a thousand crappy movies & he was proud of himself for calling out the name of Christ as he pierced his erect penis thinking it would be all right & truly all right sleeping alone with the physical world.

Or the comic book quality of the rhetoric that makes us all superheroes since we overcome the Kryptonite of ORIGINAL SIN & become even more than super we become supernatural even though we screw like dogs, birth like cows, need the sun as much as any cat & particularly for drugs like catnip to get us purring on the floor near a floor to ceiling window lazily watching evening grosbeaks at the oil sunflower feeder flashing their yellow eyebrows with that certain quality that men & women & children would like to acquire.

Anyone pointed in the right direction will get to where they are going to. So Christians say it is advice in how to get pointed that is the problem & they have the way to get the pointing right, right in the middle of eating flesh & blood magically transformed from bread & wine you get a clue that things are as they seem since the mean truth is that nothing has changed even if you really really try to get the change into your system. & the guy in charge & they are usually guys whether they are dressed in fancy robes or not tells you to read the book again & even though you like to read, books in particular, what you truly want to do is get loaded on that bottle of wine stored somewhere, hidden somewhere in the church & this will get you pointed to the nearest drunk tank where the employment opportunities are endless.

& then there is the walking on water thing but with me it always turns out too soft to walk on & too hard to swim in like Tab Benoint says but he’s talking about a swamp in Louisiana but that’s where I’d be trying to get to some good trout water except there is no good trout water in Louisiana unless you’re talking about sea trout & then there’s a lot of water, but I’m talking about trout that are salmonids swimming in cold water that does get hard enough to walk on, but only in winter when the wind pushes you into a canvas shelter staring down at an 8 inch hole or two 8 inch holes full of green water or coffee colored water or just plain lonely water looking for a friend that won’t accuse it of being a frigid sonofabitch.

This water would be so grateful for someone to just hold it gently, treating it with a warm respect but we all know that once we gathered up a loving armful or legful or handful or mouthful it would just run away, go back into hiding with all the other water & where I live it would run away to the sea, sliding through my legs faster than a New Orleans whore needing tuition money for a Catholic University & who would be sadder or wiser? Or more left alone?

& so on this great big blue & white & green & yellow & black & red & brown earth we must always push to live in the only reality there is, this sweet physical world that causes such joy.

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