it was time to go to church, so i left abruptly, and it's good i did.
that's a tough reconciliation, the love and the rage. the rage i feel . . . whenever i'm outside. enough to make a monk go agoraphobic, ya know what i mean. that's what i feel like sometimes

but then i read the newspaper, and it just goes on and on about how that drunk freak in the -- oh shit, better not say . . . bunch a'friggin cowards, sending boys and girls off to fight wars that they keep their own selves out of. i think that if you declare a war, you oughta fight it, or else keep your fat trap shut and leave other people the hell alone. and how the hell can we "rebuild" something we shoulda never tore down in the first place? there's a reason why other countries basically say fuck you when we -- as represented by that piece of shit happening -- tell them to correct their human rights violations: because they're shitty people treating everyone else like shit. they are the nastiest, foulest shitholes . . . well, next to fred phelps, who i'd love to spend about five minutes of quality time with. and yaknow, just as true as it is for every other drip, this shit's tricklin down quick as splat.

anyway, this is some of the kinda stuff i think about when i'm left to my own devices. i need a therapist. hell, maybe i need my mother's tit. well, nah. can't miss what you never had, and i get enough tit whenever i want -- with none of the guilt. thank God. speaking of Whom, i wonder what God thinks when God reads some of this stuff. He can't be offended, and yes, He's a He to me and if that ain't so for you then don't bitch about the fact that it is so for me. anyway, pregnant pause. i like pregnant pauses.

so, what does God think about all this bitchin and complainin and whining insufferably as i do? i know He'd tell me if i asked Him, which is why i don't. i've learned that you never ever ask questions that you don't want the answers to. i dunno if i'm more troubled by the thought that God's laughing His ass off ('course why would God need an ass to laugh off? He's God, right?) or the thought that it's some sort of sin, which by the way i've had a recent epiphany on--just about two nights before my afore-mentioned friend kicked the bucket. seems to me, being a . . . well, an okay Christian as i do, that when Christ came into the world and died, He took all of the sin in the world, took it through hell, then He laid those sins--or Himself, I think--at the foot of the Father, who pardoned all. so if God does see this as sinful, well, bitchin and complainin and whining insufferably as i do ought to be pardoned as well, seeins how the last "new" sin committed before Christ's dyin and all was suicide. which i also found out that it's the catholics who started that whole two-unforgivable-sins crap, but that's for another time. anyway, so everything up to and including suicide is . . . pardonable, by God at least. by me, not so much. but then who am i? nothing and no one

except a bitchy gripey punk with an axe to grind

we were talkin, in my church class tonight, about these new parents today and how what-the-hell-are-they-doing we think of them. some of these people shouldn't raise gerbils, much less these eighteen-year-gifts some of us actually know how to wrangle with. what the hell is so hard about saying no and not givin a shit if you get a i hate you for your trouble? so what--i figure as long as the little survival machine gets pissed at you, you're doin your job right. were YOU always happy with YOUR parents? how'd that work for ya? worked just fine for me. buncha dumbasses. sesame street JUNIOR? you must be SERIOUSLY unbalanced if you can't just hang out with your six-month-old til it falls asleep, gets hungry, or shits its diaper. what in THE hell can baby big bird teach your kid that you can't? you can't sing, talk to, tickle your own kid without HELP from a FREAKIN TV CHARACTER?? enough to make me lose my Jesus (i like that line)

anyway, my SO's in bed and i am to get some tonight

hasta luges