Forgivness is for Fags

Sorry about the fag comment - but it just seemed like good alliteration at the time. So it's day two at ground zero and I think that things are going to be ok - at least for the next few minutes - when I start to calculate all of my ovehead and expenses I see double and my stomach secretes an acid like substance that eats its way through my gut and travels right down into my crotch. It stings. I was walking down the sidewalk today (my wife insists we take walks) and everything went sideways - I get these pangs of guilt that I am supposed to be at work but then I realize that after six years of routine the rug has been pulled out from under me - so - things go sideways every so often.
We walked around for about an hour and then we stopped and got a coffee. The two of us sat outside and I saw this church sign staring at me from accross the street - It resonated through my bones and my brain processed the information and then it spoke to me. Yes I see it - here is the truth - the light - and the way.

"Never hold a grudge, forgivness is a gift you give yourself."
"P.S. Go Fuck yourself..."

At least this is how I read it - what do you make of it?
Ah alas peace is mine, the tranquility of admonishing rage by pure and simple choice. It even sounds heavenly doesn't it? These walks are really starting to pay off don't you think? The coffee was good and the sun was shining. I think it was about 2:30 in the afternoon. The time when I would look at my watch at the office and want to put a gun to the roof of my mouth and blow the top of my head all over the ceiling because I still had another three hours to go, and then another hour of rush-hour commuting.

All this freedom and joy, but still it's not enough to forgive anyone.

I made a list.

I think I'll go home and burn some candles, do some kind of voodoo shit, bleed out into an old lead pan, and dip a red hot dagger into my own blood. Yeah, collect my cat's hairballs and recite a few incantations, brush up on my evil eye in the mirror and so on.

I gotta go - I got shit to do.

Serenity Now

So I took a walk on the beach - to try and clear my head. It helped a bit but the bad thoughts kept coming back to me - like the stink of a sewer, thick and heavy. The wind felt good on my face and it was great to be alive. There is something about the water that helps people - at least for a few minutes. You see I needed this walk because I got canned from my job on Wednesday - so I needed a little R&R so to speak. Something to - you know clear out the bad thoughts - like sticking people with knives and digging out eyeballs and such. Yes. The walk on the beach helped. I can thank my wife for that. There really are advantages to having your own personal shrink as a spouse - it can really pay off for those times when you see red and you just want to smell the blood and shit of those you have just gutted. Yes - a walk on the beach to reflect - it really does take the bad thoughts away.

I Want The Virgin Mary

Ok I am going to come clean - for over the last 28 years of my life I have had a thing for the VM. Maybe it is the vestments that do it for me - the complex Freudian mother issues - the pale and perfect skin - the smooth fleshy arms out-stretched and all welcoming like - the bare feet - chicks with bare feet are hot especially when they are draped in fabric. I love when the VM wears the powder-blue vestments - they seem to really bring out her eyes. She always looks so sad - I just wanna like you know kinda be there for her - cheer her up, get her giggling and then just give it to her.

She is so tall and I do have a thing for tall chicks - my wife is 6'.

For as long as I can remember I see myself in church having special"thoughts" about the VM as she stood either in front of me or off on the sidelines while mass took place. I hated when the church had her behind me because there was no way to glance coyly over at her as the priests mumbled on and on. There were times when I got myself really worked up and had to cover things up and grind hymn books into my crotch as my mother swatted me in the shoulder. It was bad. I was a bad kid. I am a bad person.

I wanna have sex with the VM - that can't be good for my future. But she is a virgin right? She is the only publicly out virgin I have ever heard about. Isn't it like just normal for guys to want to get a hold of a few virile virgins and just go to town on them (they have to be willing candidates though right)?

Oh well I guess I'll See you in hell.

What Colour Underwear Did You Pick Today?

So today I decided a few things and then I did a few things. I got up in the morning and decided to shave and take a shit - then I decided to wipe my ass and take a shower. When I was in the shower I decided what type of shampoo to use (there were four to choose from) and I also decided what type of body soap to use - I opted for the green French carbolic because my hot-parts were feeling a little oily.

When I got out of the shower I decided which towel to use and then decided what underwear to put on. Tight or loose? What's my mood say? After that it was to decide what to wear and then what to bring for lunch.

The only reason I stopped making decisions about things was because I was running out of time and had to get moving. It seems that this year it is going to take me a solid hour to get to work in the morning - without escape. For some reason it is taking longer to get here than it does to get home. I am starting to get scared because there isn't even any snow on the ground yet.

When I got into my car it was time to decide what I would listen to - the radio or a CD and then after deciding on the CD player it was what CD to listen to - I choose Jack Johnston first and then went into the latest Moby CD - first disc. After that I chose lanes to drive in, how fast to go, who to let in and cut off, and so on.

All of this happened with little or no conscious focus - it was all pretty subconscious - almost instinctual. We all do this every day I guess but what would happen if we couldn't decide - or if these types of decisions were harder to make and took longer. Imagine if we were all still wandering around in our homes nude trying to figure out which pair of underwear to put on. What if deciding on what to bring for lunch put you into crisis and there was no way around it - would you go to work without a lunch? How is it that we are all able the weigh out the magnitude of our own inane decisions - how is it that we can take things for granted just "because".

How many things make up the inter-woven process of each conclusive decision we make each day?