I want to clear my head. I want to drive up to Mt Charleston and feel the cold air in my lungs, breathing in the divine wet pine needles crisp from a summer shower. I want to let out a breath and just sigh and say ‘I truly needed this’.
I think these types of thoughts with those most unexpressionable face staring down the isle of gods
I can receive anal pentrations if I chose even half of these gods available. They’re almost out of Christianity, it’s a best-seller, especially in western culture.
God, what the hell am I doing in this isle. I walk through every time I go to the store. Some kind of naggin impulse tells me I need to buy one, but why. I know myself to be a strong deist, which means I have no reason to buy a god
The mormas ones are always double stocked, they never run out.
On the back of the boxes it says that your slate becomes cleans the minute your God is activated. If you don’t follow the directions, that specific god won’t work for you
Why they bother to put Christianity and catholocism into different categories is beyond, theyre essentially the same thing. Bible is god, church is god, jesus is god, Saturday/Sunday, it’s all the same shit. Just more brainwashing. I find it interesting how people will blindly cling to these certain religions based on their own fears or past experiences. It’s so easy to read these people.
I turn my head in a slothful matter because I was stuck in such a religiously intolerant trance.
I was standing in front of the Christian god boxes and this little woman and her adolescent she was breast feeding in front of everyone wanted to grab one.
“glad they haven’t sold out!” she said with such a blissful tone in her voice. The kind of tone that made an intellectual think she was just another stupid valley girl from Oceanside. You know…the kind that talk with a high-pitched whiney voice and make it seem like every question end with a question mark. Are all religious people this ignorant?
“are you sure you want to buy THIS one?”
“why not mormanism…why not islam…why not scientology…what about episcolaism? Have you though about atheism?
“um…I am a god loving Christian, and my daughter will be to, I am doing whats best for her…”
My face turned beat reat as that sentence entered my ears…how the hell can she know what’s best for her baby. The baby can’t even think yet…you’re not even giving her a chance to create a life that she wants for herself…you’re chosing it for her…that’s not fair for her, she is a human being. What if she ends up committing the unforgivable sin and you don’t meet her in The Kingdom..even worse…at the crossroads..?
—I can never help but immediately think of the children who are forced to become religious. What happens if they grow up and realize these requirements, beliefs, and ideas are total bullshit. What happens if they commit sin unknowingly? What will happen if some of them DO realize that this is all just brainwashing. Will they soon realize that gods immortality is given to him only based through the people that believe in him. They really believe that God is going to alter his master plan just because you were so sincere about a single pray. It’s not sincere if you’re in a state of desperation…you just don’t know where else to turn because you fucked up something. Fucked up bad, too. Because saying “god” is just like saying “I don’t know” and it’s so easy to put that word into sentences based on our ideas we use on a daily basis. The terminology of the religious is so muddled that it is impossible to know if they, themselves are confused, or if they just ourright lying. It’s humorous how each indivudual that worships Christianity specifically has different perspectives on what parts of their holy book they obey and which are obselete…it’s different every single time. How much money do you have to put in that basket during church to go into heaven? Religious folk always speak so vaguely, almost as if they subconsciously know that they can be proven wrong.
Las time I spoke up in this manner I had a group of theists chase my out of some random guys house I was suppose to hook up with. It was a set-up. The guy was a Morman and they had planned on bringing me in to “teach me their ways”
Long story short…try running down the street mid-daylight with a rock hard erection, one leg through your boxers, pants, short and belt in had, with the other hand clutching my cellphone to my ear screaming “I’m being chased by jesus warrirors!
It’s not a good look.
“good for you, praise jesus” I said in a calious and sarcastic tone. This simpleton of a woman hardly caught the sense of sarcasm.
“oh…I’m not Christian…”
I turned my head slighty and gave this woman a very perplexed look. “oh…my apologies…I just figured…”
“No, it’s okay, she isn’t even my daughter…I am just here picking out my options…I just don’t know which one I should choose so I bought a bundle of them the other day when I was here, but they were fresh of out Jesus Jumbo boxes
I was never the type of person to trust wrappers anyway. I guess that was one of the many reasons I could never bring myself to purchase these god boxes.
If you don’t do exactly as you’re told to by the cooresponding god, your get-out-of-jail-free card becomes null.
Sitting in a thought-based coma in the corner of the strip club, which is coincidentally serves great food, enduring great fantasies of grandeur. It’s much easier for me to write when woman flaunt their bodies for a couple bucks in front of me. It distracts me from the already distracting thoughts automatically conjuring up through my brain at a million miles per minute. Some of them know me by now.
I see how these lustful zealots act around these woman. Eyes widen as their skin gravitates towards them, the men’s bodies heat up from desire and erupt in ridiculous actions formed by giving them cash. How pathetic.
For the ones that do, they know not to come near me.
I vomited on a stripper one time I was here writing at the bar. Right on her vagina.
She had to go the hospital because she was screaming at the top of her lungs saying her vagina was burning. Last time I heard, she no longer has the ability to birth. Some of my acids leaked deep into her vaginal cavaties burning away some important parts of her reproductive organs. The doctors tried to explain it to me over the phone, but it didn’t really make much sense to me. “Something, something, vagina, something, something, vagina” is all I could really make out at the time. Even as a gay man I still remain a threat to both men and woman of society.
I was only allowed back into the club because I’ve had sex with the owner on more than one oocasion. He didn’t want to risk putting me in a position that I might black-mail him.
The werid part, he loved wearing this wig he had stuffed under his bed when I rode him like a dog. Told me to call him Martha, and had these silicone breast implants on during the whole deal.
Something about the whole experience was fascinating to me.
I get lost in a plethora of “important” topics when I write in this bar. The crowd that crawls through here like insects surrounding a fox carcass gives me a distorted form of inspiration.
“how’s the book coming along, or are you writing a new one again?”
“It’s a new one…”
“what’s this one about?”
“The complicated aspects of crimes against humanity, religious dogma, quantum mechanics, existentialism, and the never ending list of reasons as to why a person may become jaded through the emptiness of existence…”
“what happened to the last one you were writing? That children’s book.”
“The publishing company didn’t accept it. I think the part about baking fetus chapped cookies threw them off”
“Why don’t you ever write anything…happy?’
I thought about that question for a couple seconds. Hundreds if ideas and visuals manifested through my mind. Like my mental filing system was trying as fast as it could to find where the “Happiness” folder was placed.
My brain couldn’t find it.
“I don’t know, I guess I pride myself on revealing things that are somewhat controversial”
“How’s that working out for you?
Yet again, that question circled down the drain that is my mind. I’ve purchased no god, I have sex with closeted cross dressers, and I write short stories in a strip club because they have good food.
———-I always seem to speak in some pseudo-intellectual manner when I’m in public. This arrogant ego of mine receives nourishment by conforming to the façade of social normailities. Feeding this demon fills me with disdain, but the feeling is orgasmic at times.
Portraying someone I am not, there is something very exciting about it. Our reality is a mirror. The mirror on this glass slowly breaks the more masks it tires to remember.