(no subject)
03.14.04
Belief.
QsOTD:
"When I told the people of Northern Ireland that I was an atheist, a woman in the audience stood up and said, 'Yes, but is it the God of the Catholics or the God of the Protestants in whom you don't believe?"
Quentin Crisp
"My mother said to me, "If you are a soldier, you will become a general. If you are a monk, you will become the Pope." Instead, I was a painter, and became Picasso."
Pablo Picasso.
"If absolute power corrupts absolutely, where does that leave God?"
George Deacon.
"When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realized that the Lord doesn't work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me."
Emo Philips.
Cast: Me, co-worker Brother Bob, and the two new guys. Setting: extended cab F-150, headed up a mountain, discussing door-to-door purveyors of religion. Me: "So, if there is anyone in this truck that I have failed to offend, please let me know now." ¹
New Guy: "Oh, it's okay, you're the one going to hell."
"Ha ha, that's excellent. I'm okay with that because I hear hell has things like cable and dive bars."
"You don't drink and you don't watch TV."
"Yeah, good point."
"So what do you believe?"
"I don't really believe in god."
"So you're an atheist?"
"Oh, no, I'm not an atheist. I believe in, uh mm, yeah, I believe in an ambivalent universe and... gobbledygook. . .and something more."
"Really?"
"No, not at all. Well the ambivalent universe part. . .I suppose you could say that I'm an agnostic."
"What's that?"
"Cowardice and bravery in one word, really. Ultimately, I guess you could say that I believe in Crystal Light®, therefore, I believe in me. . .[Brother B. grimaces with the pain of cheapshot humor, one new guy yuk yuks, and the other looks puzzled]. I'm ready. Let us walk."
Heathen, they say. Yes, yes, most certainly! You vile oaf, you crass, blasphemous jackass! Surely you don't believe that the International Brotherhood of Jackasses would stoop so low as to admit me, dear friend. Apostate. Heretic! Time out there, chief. I was never in the position be either. Ingrate. Sacrilegious. Lost. They have so often told me that I am damned. If heaven is not gold streets and feather pillows but looking eternally into the face of god, then is hell really a lake of fire and pointy tailed red demons with barb wire scourges? Or is hell just the eternal non-presence of god? If so, oh the hubris, I am all ready there my friends. Non-believer.
Wait. You're wrong there.
Indeed, I believe in no gods and no masters, but still, I believe. I believe in thunderstorms and monsoon drenchings. I believe in brother and sister coyote. I howl my freakish off-key primal strength howl. Thank you Allen Ginsberg, for singing the song of living deliberately , to the point of, and often beyond, madness. I believe in that. The sweat lodge and the unspeakables heard within. I believe in mountains, canyons, granite and gneiss.
Soil; dense and rock or rich and crumbly, I believe in thee.
I believe (in):
The sweet funk of warm compost. Chicken sh*t in straw. The delicious essence of creosote bush (Larrea tridentata) carried on notes of morning birdsong. The earthy tang of onion fields in early spring. Sweet Basil, Desert Lavender, burning Sage, Juniper.
I believe in sex, lust, and furthermore, f**king. If you are married you most likely know the difference between sex and f**cking. Oh, how quickly the ignorant use swearing for emphasis you say. No, you are wrong. That was the use of that sweetest verb so debased by popular culture and ill-formed minds, I say. I believe in the animal rites of spring. Solid pounding, deep orgasm, and ejaculation uncontained is the only proper response to that springtime of death and decay, autumn. I believe headboards should have bars for gripping. Oh that deep scrotal pang for my woman! I believe in wide curvy hips and thick heart shaped asses and back raking fingernails.
I believe in wildflowers: Globe Mallow, Owl Clover, Lupine, Desert Marigold, Brittle Bush. They laugh when squeal with schoolgirl delight, "Poppies! Poppies!" Cactus flowers and late blooming Mesquite. I believe in that.
I believe in walking. I believe in my lugged Vibram® soled steel shank 10-inch size 12E hand tooled red leather work boots. How could anyone fail to believe in boots so solid? I believe in wool socks. I believe in long strides while whistling. I believe in that 120 pound pack on my broad back. I believe I am part Sherpa. You'll never know just how firmly I believe in weight on my back. I believe my legs are strong, unyielding, and will be ever so. I believe in the sun, rain, wind, snow, and dry hot air.
I believe in standing tall and firm. I believe in liberty, dignity, and the struggle for both. Revolution, insurrection, rebellion, and the infinite hope contained therein. I believe I once had a messiah complex. I used to believe that I could lead people to change. Maybe I still do. Where are you my army of brave hearted women and thick skulled men? Oh yeah, I believe I was to self-doubting and cowardly to ever try to raise you. I believe few would follow and even fewer believe.
If reality is a dream, a slapdash illusion, I believe it to be the dream of a loud braying crosseyed jackass kicking at the moon. I believe we exist and even if it is an illusion, it's the only illusion we have and so it matters not. I believe in my hearty laughing. I believe in my refusal to take authority seriously.
I believe I am a hypocrite, a charlatan, and dirty rapscallion. Or maybe I believe I am a twinkle eyed trickster using laughter to open eyes and like all things sentient, incapable of living without self contradiction. I believe the jury is still out on this one.
I believe in Joseph Heller. I believe in Edward Abbey. I believe in Walt Whitman. Wait, strike that, I believe I *am* uncle Walt when he says:
"Now I will dismiss myself from impassive women,
I will go stay with her who waits for me, and with those
women that are warm-blooded and sufficient for me,
I see that they understand me and do not deny me,
I see that they are worthy of me, I will be the robust
husband of those women.
They are not one jot less than I am,
They are tann'd in the face by shining suns and blowing
winds,
Their flesh has the old divine suppleness and strength,
The know how to swim, row, ride, wrestles, shoot, run,
strike, retreat, advance, resist, defend themselves,
They are ultimate in their own right- they are calm, clear,
well-posses'd of themselves."
I snicker and giggle, winking, open my arms wide, laugh and howl my goofy howl. Oh the hubris! You cocksure bastard arrogant self assured cretin! Yes, I believe at times I am exactly that.
But dear sisters, give up on me not yet. Know how firmly I believe in you women. Your firm resolve and ability to continue on, your everwise patience with me, and the way you sing. I believe that you are the very pillars of this human earth.
My brothers, the few of you not lost in a haze of sports, beer, and skinny silicone titted concentration camp blondes, I believe in you too. Come, sing the song of honorable manhood with me.
Like the old farmer, I believe you can tell a lot about someone by how they work. Not the shuffling of paper and slumping hanged by the necktie until dead work, but how they swing a heavy long handled tool or nail two pieces of wood together. I believe in my hands, my large and calloused hands. I believe in artists, poets, and all those make worth out of this muck. I believe in stone. I believe in contours and well designed drainage features.
I believe I am full of it. Sometimes it is crap. Sometimes it is myself. Sometimes it is nothing and sometimes it is everything. I believe in my wife. I believe in my children. Of course, I also believe in you.
¹: Several versions of this quote are attributed to Johannes Brahms:
"Forgive me madam if there is anyone I have failed to offend!"
"If there is anyone here who I have not offended tonight, I beg his pardon"
"If I have failed to offend anyone in this room, I apologize."
So on and so forth. . . go back
Belief.
QsOTD:
"When I told the people of Northern Ireland that I was an atheist, a woman in the audience stood up and said, 'Yes, but is it the God of the Catholics or the God of the Protestants in whom you don't believe?"
Quentin Crisp
"My mother said to me, "If you are a soldier, you will become a general. If you are a monk, you will become the Pope." Instead, I was a painter, and became Picasso."
Pablo Picasso.
"If absolute power corrupts absolutely, where does that leave God?"
George Deacon.
"When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realized that the Lord doesn't work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me."
Emo Philips.
Cast: Me, co-worker Brother Bob, and the two new guys. Setting: extended cab F-150, headed up a mountain, discussing door-to-door purveyors of religion. Me: "So, if there is anyone in this truck that I have failed to offend, please let me know now." ¹
New Guy: "Oh, it's okay, you're the one going to hell."
"Ha ha, that's excellent. I'm okay with that because I hear hell has things like cable and dive bars."
"You don't drink and you don't watch TV."
"Yeah, good point."
"So what do you believe?"
"I don't really believe in god."
"So you're an atheist?"
"Oh, no, I'm not an atheist. I believe in, uh mm, yeah, I believe in an ambivalent universe and... gobbledygook. . .and something more."
"Really?"
"No, not at all. Well the ambivalent universe part. . .I suppose you could say that I'm an agnostic."
"What's that?"
"Cowardice and bravery in one word, really. Ultimately, I guess you could say that I believe in Crystal Light®, therefore, I believe in me. . .[Brother B. grimaces with the pain of cheapshot humor, one new guy yuk yuks, and the other looks puzzled]. I'm ready. Let us walk."
Heathen, they say. Yes, yes, most certainly! You vile oaf, you crass, blasphemous jackass! Surely you don't believe that the International Brotherhood of Jackasses would stoop so low as to admit me, dear friend. Apostate. Heretic! Time out there, chief. I was never in the position be either. Ingrate. Sacrilegious. Lost. They have so often told me that I am damned. If heaven is not gold streets and feather pillows but looking eternally into the face of god, then is hell really a lake of fire and pointy tailed red demons with barb wire scourges? Or is hell just the eternal non-presence of god? If so, oh the hubris, I am all ready there my friends. Non-believer.
Wait. You're wrong there.
Indeed, I believe in no gods and no masters, but still, I believe. I believe in thunderstorms and monsoon drenchings. I believe in brother and sister coyote. I howl my freakish off-key primal strength howl. Thank you Allen Ginsberg, for singing the song of living deliberately , to the point of, and often beyond, madness. I believe in that. The sweat lodge and the unspeakables heard within. I believe in mountains, canyons, granite and gneiss.
Soil; dense and rock or rich and crumbly, I believe in thee.
I believe (in):
The sweet funk of warm compost. Chicken sh*t in straw. The delicious essence of creosote bush (Larrea tridentata) carried on notes of morning birdsong. The earthy tang of onion fields in early spring. Sweet Basil, Desert Lavender, burning Sage, Juniper.
I believe in sex, lust, and furthermore, f**king. If you are married you most likely know the difference between sex and f**cking. Oh, how quickly the ignorant use swearing for emphasis you say. No, you are wrong. That was the use of that sweetest verb so debased by popular culture and ill-formed minds, I say. I believe in the animal rites of spring. Solid pounding, deep orgasm, and ejaculation uncontained is the only proper response to that springtime of death and decay, autumn. I believe headboards should have bars for gripping. Oh that deep scrotal pang for my woman! I believe in wide curvy hips and thick heart shaped asses and back raking fingernails.
I believe in wildflowers: Globe Mallow, Owl Clover, Lupine, Desert Marigold, Brittle Bush. They laugh when squeal with schoolgirl delight, "Poppies! Poppies!" Cactus flowers and late blooming Mesquite. I believe in that.
I believe in walking. I believe in my lugged Vibram® soled steel shank 10-inch size 12E hand tooled red leather work boots. How could anyone fail to believe in boots so solid? I believe in wool socks. I believe in long strides while whistling. I believe in that 120 pound pack on my broad back. I believe I am part Sherpa. You'll never know just how firmly I believe in weight on my back. I believe my legs are strong, unyielding, and will be ever so. I believe in the sun, rain, wind, snow, and dry hot air.
I believe in standing tall and firm. I believe in liberty, dignity, and the struggle for both. Revolution, insurrection, rebellion, and the infinite hope contained therein. I believe I once had a messiah complex. I used to believe that I could lead people to change. Maybe I still do. Where are you my army of brave hearted women and thick skulled men? Oh yeah, I believe I was to self-doubting and cowardly to ever try to raise you. I believe few would follow and even fewer believe.
If reality is a dream, a slapdash illusion, I believe it to be the dream of a loud braying crosseyed jackass kicking at the moon. I believe we exist and even if it is an illusion, it's the only illusion we have and so it matters not. I believe in my hearty laughing. I believe in my refusal to take authority seriously.
I believe I am a hypocrite, a charlatan, and dirty rapscallion. Or maybe I believe I am a twinkle eyed trickster using laughter to open eyes and like all things sentient, incapable of living without self contradiction. I believe the jury is still out on this one.
I believe in Joseph Heller. I believe in Edward Abbey. I believe in Walt Whitman. Wait, strike that, I believe I *am* uncle Walt when he says:
"Now I will dismiss myself from impassive women,
I will go stay with her who waits for me, and with those
women that are warm-blooded and sufficient for me,
I see that they understand me and do not deny me,
I see that they are worthy of me, I will be the robust
husband of those women.
They are not one jot less than I am,
They are tann'd in the face by shining suns and blowing
winds,
Their flesh has the old divine suppleness and strength,
The know how to swim, row, ride, wrestles, shoot, run,
strike, retreat, advance, resist, defend themselves,
They are ultimate in their own right- they are calm, clear,
well-posses'd of themselves."
I snicker and giggle, winking, open my arms wide, laugh and howl my goofy howl. Oh the hubris! You cocksure bastard arrogant self assured cretin! Yes, I believe at times I am exactly that.
But dear sisters, give up on me not yet. Know how firmly I believe in you women. Your firm resolve and ability to continue on, your everwise patience with me, and the way you sing. I believe that you are the very pillars of this human earth.
My brothers, the few of you not lost in a haze of sports, beer, and skinny silicone titted concentration camp blondes, I believe in you too. Come, sing the song of honorable manhood with me.
Like the old farmer, I believe you can tell a lot about someone by how they work. Not the shuffling of paper and slumping hanged by the necktie until dead work, but how they swing a heavy long handled tool or nail two pieces of wood together. I believe in my hands, my large and calloused hands. I believe in artists, poets, and all those make worth out of this muck. I believe in stone. I believe in contours and well designed drainage features.
I believe I am full of it. Sometimes it is crap. Sometimes it is myself. Sometimes it is nothing and sometimes it is everything. I believe in my wife. I believe in my children. Of course, I also believe in you.
¹: Several versions of this quote are attributed to Johannes Brahms:
"Forgive me madam if there is anyone I have failed to offend!"
"If there is anyone here who I have not offended tonight, I beg his pardon"
"If I have failed to offend anyone in this room, I apologize."
So on and so forth. . . go back