Friday, December 23, 2005

I do remember the grand old days when I was even more foolish that I am now, which frightens me alone, I actually believed in God solely to have the largest possible target to blame for the times had like in December. I never was pick on going Infernal.. I leaned more to a Job-ian approach. I was narcisstic in my neurosis to believe that the Powers that Be had handpicked me to make my life difficult for whatever esoteric reasons. There was something comforting of lifting a fist to the sky and shaking it threateningly. You're in excrutiating pain as muscle spasm wrack your whole body, waiting under a bus shelter, to be out of the icy winter rains, for a bus you've missed by no more than a minute, at six in the morning, and nobody is answering their phone. Meanwhile, unknown to you, one of your beloved pet rats has passed on. All this caused by a spill taken on a bus one slushy morning a month earlier. It's easy to believe in the existence of a malicious divinity, over a malevolent one at such moments.

I have to confess I miss my theological purgative, with my tuchis sore from two shots with long needles done over two days, and an inability to extend my neck properly. Even the peace of a little sleep before I have to limp through a soggy night to work....

So maybe I should arbitrarily dump my woes on some unseen force, whose presence currently haunts me unwanted at every turn. Fuck you, Santa.

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