Feet prutrude at33degrees.
The leg is bent slightly, turnedRomanslanted in the cross-light.
Above, the spine sits cornered above the townsmen. The words spoken
are few and brief. The have little content, but are construed wholely as
truth. "Have a doughnutin
the hallway. We have your
There are two altar boys behind the altar. One of the altar boys speaks to the other one.
I've got to talk to you about something.
What is it?
Well, its kind of embarressing, me being an altar boy and all but I've, I've found it hard to hate the world lately, like a good Christian.
Maybe you need to piss mother nature off. Have you ever tried walking up to a tree and kicking it?
No. This isn't the Wizard Of Oz, idiot. And besides, I don't want to fightmothernature. Have you ever seen Wyoming?
That's a good point. Well, what's your basic problem?
I've been losing my fight, I've been getting into metaphysics.
You should listen to hardcore punk, like me. That stuff's like liquid hate. It's the most genuine music there is. It's perfect for a young Christian like yourself. See, the lessoxygen to the brain, and the more fists, the more real the music becomes. Like a school of fish clawing up at a circle of light. Or if there were toilet music-that would be perfect. We could call ourselves Cultural Death, or the Soul Droppings
One of the altar boys rings a bell. The chapel is silent, The priest resumes speaking. The other altar boy speaks.
Do you think metaphysics was invented by some unimaginative person who had nothing to say, looked around in despair for something to grab on toandfinally just said,ÓOh yeah, well, well, I exist!Ó And that other unimaginative people standing around, scratched their heads and said, Òya know, he's got a point?Ó And that they built temples andaltarsto celebrate this idiot's discovery? And they made up stupid word like faith and people? And that we've been indirectly kissing this guy's ass ever since?
I guess we should just be glad that there are no metaphysical commercials. We'd be running around humming skippy little nihilism jingles. Though, I suppose we do already. But to actually be able to call into consciousness a lyric advertising Nothingness Brand Soup that would be cool. But then the government would just find something else to be sneaky about.
But don't you see? The government doesn't have to be sneaky about it. They have pop music to sell to the multitudes. That's all these idiots talk about. And it's not really their fault. Metaphysics will inevitably arise when you force artists to attempt to appeal to an audience. Metaphysics is a form of panic. It's the body's natural response, when the imagination feels judged. And when this happens art ceases to be art. It isthen that art officially becomes crap. Like metaphysical poetry, for instance. The only good metaphysical poetry line ever written is "I threw a boomerang that never came back.
The only good poetry line?
Yes. Don't you see? The boomerang never came back. And he's just standing there looking at the back of his picket fence. He feels clueless and stupid, like a dog listening to a conversation. That's how the poet should be depicted. Not this God-like Blake creature who can outsmart an angel, before kicking its ass and laughing at it.
Hey, what's with all of this anti-poetry talk? Aren't you a poet?
No, I'm intelligent.Dishonest People are Stupid. Stupid people are Dishonest. Though there are Honest people that still manage to be stupid.That doesn't mean that all poets are stupid. That means that it's a poet's job to be stupid. Or at least that's my excuse.
Hey, do you want to let me talk. I'm supposed to be the one with the problem.
I know what your problem is. You've got to trade in all of your fears for one really big one.
The big D?
Works for me. If you're more afraid of death than of a particular person, that person will cease to frighten you. After that you don't even need to hate them. It's beautiful. And the moment you stop fearing someone, the moment that person stops controlling you. See, what I do is drive on the wrong side of the street on the way to work. What I'm doing, is simulaneously healing myself, as well as those around me. Now, they may swerve around me with a lifeless, blue face of drowning terror. But, minutes later, they're back breathing again, and really in control of their lives.
You're really quite a guy, you know?
Hey any time you need more help understanding the Christian message you let me know. The procession is coming to a close. Please join us in the closing hymn: Joy, Joy, Oh Extreme Amounts Of Joy.