Sunday Conversation

"You take communion with your left hand you faggot. You know that isn't the right way. Why do you treat the holy as a thing of naught." I don't treat it as naught. The right hand is traditional. But not required. "You faggot. You have to be so different. You learned as a child to use the right hand. But now you mock it. You mock our Religion and you mock those who came before." It's true I was taught as a child to use the right hand. But there is no basis in the handbook for this. I see no directive to use the right hand. "Queer. You know it's not right. There is an unspoken order. You learn by watching, by mimicking why do you hate your family. Why do you make your mother cry." It's only the right hand dammit. It's more convenient. "The gospel is not one of ease and convenience. Your right hand shows respect. Your left shows your slippery slide away from the gospel. Away from your family. You hate them. You hate all of us." I don't hate. Not them. Not the church. But I do hate this guilt. So leave. You make me want to quit. But just leave me alone. "I'm always here fag. I'm here mocking you. You are so different. I live here. Ready to destroy you. I know you freak out. I will find a your weakness. I will push the crack. Spread the crack. You will fall. And I will take glory in your desperate cries for help which all will hear but none answer""

Woman of Stone

Who do you mourn, oh woman of stone; what pain, or what sorrow, do you cry for?

Why do you mourn, oh woman forlorn; whose hand made your tears fall so lonely?

Who do you watch or'e full day and all night; whose corpse does your silence still call to?

When will you leave; from whence your reprieve? Your sorrow does serve you no more. 

But stay you will, cold quiet and still. Your wound is still open and dripping.

The pain stays with you. The sting becomes you and your choice to remain is eternal. 

The life that was lost should have been but one cost, but with you old man death got a couple.

Orange Soda

I wish that I wouldn't ruin our friendship if I tried to make out with you. I wish that I wouldn't betray your smile if I made out with you. But were friends. And that's all. And when I have a hard time I call. And we talk and we laugh and we don't even care how much sunlight has passed Then I wish that it wouldn't ruin our friendship if I just made a pass at you. I wish that that this moment could last forever when I lock eyes with you But there's rules and they say that our friendship will just stay this way. And I'm fine well-- I'm really not, but I love you enough to respect what you want And we'll be the greatest friends. Well play disc golf and smash bros until all time ends. I wish that these feelings were pure and platonic-I know that they once were but then I drank tonic and now when we lock eyes and you give that smile or whenever we hug then I get drunk for a while, with these feelings and thoughts that just won't ever be; You've been a good friend and that's all we can be. I just wish that it wouldn't ruin our friendship if I touched lips with you Cause you're married and straight and I'm single and gay. And the friendship we have is more than ok It's better than just some five minute flirt. It's better than a quick hookup that just leaves one hurt. Our friendship is real and I love what it is. You're my bro. A true bro. And if I had one wish I'd wish that our friendship would last forever just the way that is is. I'd tell all these feelings to go to hell. A true friend is needed for more than a spell. A true friend is rarer than albino deer I won't trade our friendship for those five minutes. Not that id even get those five minutes. So let's play some smash or find some great place to eat. Let's build a campfire and get off our feet. Spend a long day tossing frisbee in the park and then when it's over well sit in the dark

And I'll wish that this moment could last forever just with us being friends.

Water on the brain

10,000 rain drops tap the earth in a consistent rhythm. Each on leaving a small impression. Suredly unnoticed when considered solitarily but immensely powerful in the aggregate. Like insanity which comes as our soul is assaulted bit by bit until it cracks and the dusty earth of reason is supplanted by the washed out mud of irrational fears, impulses and ideas.

Good times

how about a post that is about good things

I've lost 23 pounds.

i am performing well at work

i have great friends

i am able to focus more

depression is not near the issue, i think walking daily has really helped that.  they say exercise is as effective as antidepressants sometimes.

Reaction to Radio Love Songs

Love

What is it?

This potent potion, which changes hearts, clouds minds, and sanctifies souls.

At least from the outside…

People seek it.   It must feel good, so very good.

When it is taken away men weap, they wallow, they lose hope. 

It applies to all, the righteous, the wicked, the young the old.

A part inside each of us needs it.  

So is it the reaction of when two people meet who both have hormonal releases precipitated by the other?

Well that appears to be part in all of love.  For some that might be it.

It appears that the chemicals in our bodies are seeking a one, another to love.

Then the actions,   the love making for sure, but also the cuddling, the talking, the togetherness.

For some, a connection grows that is deeper than mere chemical.

And that is good. . . but for them, when that connection is taken away, it is a violent reaction.  Two souls knit in one, and the separation is a violent surgery.

Marriage seems to facilitate this deeper love.  Deeper connection.  And of course service, and time, and children and shared experience.

At least that’s what love appears to be as an outsider looking in.

It seems nice.   And I’d love to have it.   But for now, I’ll keep guessing what it is like.  And I’ll keep wishing there were less of it in songs.

I hate my brain

I wish my brain worked.

What would it be like to have a functioning brain.

Last night I had put together a friend outing to Buffalo Wild Wings.   We gathered  talked.  Had fun catching up.

But after we’d ordered food.  I got nervous.  Decided I was gonna step away from the table for a bit.  

Ended up walking out of the restaurant. Being anxious around the corner for a while.  Thinking I’d go back in.  But I didn’t.  I couldn’t get myself to go back in.  So I texted a friend that I’d pay him back for the food, and left.  I had friends text me.  I deflected their attempts to help me. 

Now I was mad at myself for leaving an event I planned and had looked forward to all weak.   I yelled, hit myself, and had small flashes of desire to wreck my car.

I finally got a little less insane, and was embarrassed that I’d just left the group.  Sat in my car, trying to get comfortable enough to go back in, then I figured it was too long anyway.  Found a Cool diner called the One Man Band to eat at.  You order your food via phone from your table.   Then I went home.

I hate myself,  I hate the way my brain works.   I hate being broken.