Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Hit The Wrong Spot
I once read that we are defined by what we hate, and I fucking hope not because if so I'm defined by the tedium of my mind, the emptiness of my morals, and a deep unaccountable dislike of Enya and any music used in massage rooms, that la la la bullshit that is supposed to remind you of running mountain streams, but instead reminds me that my toilet needs to be fixed and is inhabited by Satan. And that reminds me of all the people I dislike, a teeny-tiny group, but still. Okay, two people. Maybe three. And then I'm reminded that I have to forgive them because I picked a religion that demands it and I wish I'd thought about it and how difficult that would be instead of being mesmerized by the beautiful tragedy of it -- the incense, the monstrances, the blood of Christ, the priests and their fluffly ninety fifty hairdos. I loved those hairdos and felt a deep joy at my baptism when I saw them all standing there, looking like Sylvio from the Sopranos, not Little Stevie from the E Street Band. Man, all that aquanet and the presence of God to boot! But back to the point, hate is a hard thing to rid one's self of and I have a temper that runs like pressure points -- hit the wrong spot and you're going to get a reaction that's far different and longer lasting than you might have expected.
So I'm thinking about my least favorite Bible story, the story of the prodigal son and how to rewrite it. It's not that I don't think the prodigal should be forgiven -- he should. But what about the other brother, the one that stayed and busted his ass and didn't end up in twenty-eight rehabs, forcing his parents' to take out another mortgage on their house, wandering the streets looking for him, worried sick that he would be dead in a crackhouse. Okay, I updated it. That's kind of my thing. After the big party for the bad dude who squandered, why not have a big party for the other brother? I'm told that it's a metaphor about how God forgives us and yeah, that's groovy. I'm all about that and Lord knows, I need a lot of forgivness all the time. Hate is a hard thing to hold onto, that embittered resentment. We're always so sure that everyone gets so much more than we do and it eats our hearts. But sometimes you have to make yourself at home and pull down a plate. After all, we consume so much -- what's a little piece of ourselves if it makes us feel better every now and again? Why not, as they say, have a party?
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"I made a wasteland of everything I touched." Raymond Carver
Drinking music suggestion: Greatest Palace Music Bonnie Prince Billy
Benedictions and Maledictions