impotence of the brain

Praying to a practice God can be a dangerous thing.

Not because of the obvious. Instead, because they tend to die. And this pretty much minimalizes their power as a God.

Or does it?

Lots of folk, including myself, viewed Joe Strummer as some sort of God. We worshipped his every word, even as he contradicted himself from one interview to the next. Then we watched as Clash songs became Levis’ jingles.

Then he keeled over.

Ditto with Johnny Thunders for many. Although he was a God of excess and simplicity.

I read a poem about Oprah being one. Personally, I’d rather go for someone like Sasha Grey if I’m going that direction.

Simply put, God and all that is already tough enough to figure out without putting someone who actually lived into the equation. Unless you believe the entire we’re all god thing, which makes the self-worship of our times pretty easy to justify. I guess.

Alcohol is another God to some. Easier to pray over a pint.

Now you can confess your sins with an I-phone app. Well, I guess it allows for immediacy with the Pope.

I once saw a great view outside of the Grand Canyon. Me and my girlfriend took the long way to Colorado. Those roads were scary, but they were beautiful. I kept having to remember that I was driving on these perilous roads instead of just site seeing. One wrong move and whammo, I guess we would have met whatever God there is.

But those views, what I remember of them between knarled fingers on the steering wheel, were heavenly. I miss those kinds of experiences.

I tried to go to church for a while a couple of years ago. It was educational. I learned more about religion than I had in 30-plus years of pretending I knew about it. I never made a connection. I felt like an outsider at every moment. Which is because, that’s exactly what I was.

Did I do it for a girl? I guess yes. Initially. But I kept up the attempt after the girl was out of the picture. Kept trying. Kept praying. Kept reading. It was interesting, I’ll admit that. Though I felt so little from it. Faith is a tough thing to figure out. I believe in something Devine. But I have yet to figure out what exactly it is. And I think that’s a good thing. It’ll keep me questioning and searching. Instead of just blindly following. Or I’m just going to go to Hell.

Last night I dreamed that I was a last fighter against some kind of evil force. It wasn’t vampires. It wasn’t demons. It was just some kind of people and soul-eating monster that took over people’s lives. I guess it was sort of like Invasion of the Body Snatchers without Donald Sutherland. Man, I dig Donald Sutherland. Not in a sexual kind of way. But in a damn, that fucker is cool way.

I kept waking up. It was nice to remember a dream. It doesn’t happen much. But usually they are fucked up like that. Maybe I have some kind of internal thing going on. I need to get rid of demons. Ha. No shit.

The snow is coming back tonight. I have to scurry on to work for the company that has no love for me -- or anyone, let’s not make this personal -- and then scurry back. Why the rat imagery? It’s a rat race, right? Fucked up clichéd nonsense.

My birthday is coming up soon. I’ll be old. I wonder if any of my friends will actually show up to hang out? I have my doubts. It’s a bad economy and all.

Pity party. Smitty ditty. Monkey bunky.

If I ever get back to Phoenix, I need to purchase a new hat. I’ve lost my new hat, and my old hat smells.

Have you ever wanted to go back in time, just to do it all exactly the same way you did it before. Just taking better notes so you remember things better? I do. There are entire years where I don’t remember a single event. And it just gets worse every year. I do like it when moments get jarred out of the black hole for some reason. That’s when I get inspired to scribble. Busting through years of regret and anger and beer must be tough.

Sit back and relax. Some things just come naturally. Others? They need a little bit of help. Kind of like impotence for the brain. Although I believe impotence is mostly a brain thing anyway.