Post by Joey on Aug 6, 2019 14:59:19 GMT -5
The scene is Waco TX. If you have ever been in Texas or lived in Texas during summer, one might be inclined to think this city and state were on fire. Heat seems to raise up from the asphalt making hazy lines, making you think you see water on the road, it is all but a mirage.
I am currently sitting in its only Catholic church in Waco. Waco has a huge population of Protestant and Presbyterian and Lutheran. Inside the church we see several wood carvings. When I was a kid I used to wonder who created such carvings? Such huge scales. What must go through the mind of the worker who had to carve out Jesus being crucified? Carving out angels and demons for a living has to kind of mess with your mind a little bit. You have to have those images engraved in your head. Same has to go for the statues. The stained glass windows. The church is if nothing else, a venue to have dreams and nightmares come to life.
When my mother would drag me to church I would dread going up to take communion, they would say come and get the body of Christ and the blood of Christ, all it was was wafers and wine but to a small child it held a weird sort of dread that only a child could imagine. I kept thinking that they had huge gallons of blood under the place mats that they would fill in the goblet and then feed to the patrons. And such long lines why were so many people eager to drink blood. And as I grew older I came to understand. And yet back deep in the last refuges of my child memories. I still kept that thread alive. Blood for wine, wine for blood. Never drink the blood.
And as I sit in here in a pew on a Tuesday afternoon. I hear birds up in the rafters, not many but a few. And I realize they are trapped. Trapped up there in this huge cage. Living off insects and whatever food fell on the floor from the children of the parishioners. And I think I could relate. Sometimes I feel trapped as well. And even in this church, this old church I feel trapped. I can leave anytime I want, but I can never be free. We are taught one thing in church. You cannot escape god. God is everything, god is everywhere, he is with us at all times. So Redd would might say its like one huge prison. And he might be right.
As I sit here I smell oldness. I smell dust, and wood varnish. I smell wine. I smell the birds. And through it all I am avoiding the obvious. I came here to pray. And I have yet to do that. Every person prays a little differently. Some start off Dear God, as if they were writing a letter. Others say a prayer for a person in their life, or for a sign. The signs never come. God is always quiet. God is always silent. When I pray, well let me tell you of my last prayer, the one I am doing right now. “My name is Jude. One of your lost sheep. I will not ask you for anything. Not for me anyway. I know better than to ask. I have suffered a lot. And I will suffer more in the future. I know this, I accept your will. But my home is fading. The last bit of the past, holding on for dear life. I do not want to see it go. Not yet, no not quite yet. If I lose it, I will be lost. I will be destitute. Help me be strong for it. Help me keep that dream alive. If you chose to help me, I will dedicate more of my time. I will work on my brothers and sisters and help guide them to you. Say hello to my father and friends up there, I cant wait to see them again. Thank you”
That is sort of how my prayers go. They do not get answered. They never do. When I asked a priest long ago why god allowed so much suffering in the world and still say he loves us, he answered that without suffering there could be no compassion. I never believed that at all. Instead that was the first time I came to despise the word God and his word as well. Life should not be suffering and yet that is all it is. Life should not be this hard. And yet it always is.
Not long ago there was a tragedy in El Paso. Try telling those fathers, mothers, and children that were lost that this is all gods plan. And describe to me the look they will give you. Hatred grows out of love.
(I take a deep breath, inhaling old dust and candle flames. I feel my stomach flip a bit as I do.)
I get up and get into the middle of the pews and start making my way out, the echo from my shoes ringing loud. Then I hear the flapping of wings, for a split second I think its Angels flying away. But I realize it is not angels just the trapped birds up top. I feel sorry for them. I want to try and do something to set them free. But I remember that there is no freedom not in here not outside. The birds will be just as trapped as I am no matter where they go. At least here they are free from other predators and will be shielded from the heat. They are better off.
As I reach the large wooden doors I push it open with my left hand as the sun hits me. I cringe for a moment then walk to my car. I open the handle with my left hand and turn the car on. I let the cool breeze from the car ac hit me.
It is time I concentrate on Reaper if even for a moment. Reaper let me introduce myself. I am called Saint Jude, after the patron saint of lost hope. I know nothing about Philosophy like you. I do not have a large IQ. I am not like my brother Redd, he is a founding father of this place. I am not. I am something else. I believe in god. Though I hate him. I believe in myself. But I hate myself too. I am the very essence of a walking talking contradiction. I am loyal to those who are loyal to me. I am strong but weaker than most. I am sane and down to earth but insane in what I preach and what I believe.
I put the car in drive and do not drive far, past 4th street down the road and stop in front of a pool hall.
I am not a good pool player but it helps get your mind off things. Reaper you have worked hard all your life, but never with direction always lead in directions with dead ends. Isn't that the way it is for most people. Anyone who tells you they know what they want in life is lying. Anyone who makes a plan since high school and has their life mapped out is headed for a big heartache. You cant plan the rest of your life away, if you do, you’ll find you miss the detours that take you to where you need to be not where you belong. Part of life is the destination yes true, but it is the trip that defines us. That makes us who we are, or who we will be.
Reaper I do not know you. But you seem to be getting along better than how you started. You do not shy away from conflict which is good. But I am not a conflict. I am a force of nature onto myself. I bring the doors down upon myself and anyone in my vicinity comes down as well.
Last night I dreamt I was a bird just like the trapped ones in the church. And instead of flying through the clouds and being free. I kept flying into windows, breaking myself each time. Only to come back to life somehow and start up again, each time flying into walls and windows. A version of Don Quixote but in bird form.
I never broke a window or a door in my dream but still I kept on. That is how I am in SFT. I do not stop. I do not rest. I never walk away, and win or lose I make sure my opponent is broken. Do you understand?
You will be judged and weighed, you will be found unworthy. Everyone will be found unworthy and you must pay a price for such a thing. You must suffer as I suffer. You are about to enter the past versions of SFT, where walking talking dinosaurs still roam. It is not for you, but we are unavoidable. And better me than Redd. Trust me you don't want to face him. He is the current in the deep end of the ocean. You swim too far and there is no coming back. Nothing but you and the dark sea and whats lurking just beneath.
I will show you the light, I will show you the truth and when its all said and done you will still be the world champion, but that will be all. You chose a good name. Reaper holds truth in religion. But I am not here to teach truth, just light.
Why do we hurt? So we may have compassion, what a load of bull.
(I open the car door with my left hand, close the warm door and walk into the billiards hall.)
fade away
I am currently sitting in its only Catholic church in Waco. Waco has a huge population of Protestant and Presbyterian and Lutheran. Inside the church we see several wood carvings. When I was a kid I used to wonder who created such carvings? Such huge scales. What must go through the mind of the worker who had to carve out Jesus being crucified? Carving out angels and demons for a living has to kind of mess with your mind a little bit. You have to have those images engraved in your head. Same has to go for the statues. The stained glass windows. The church is if nothing else, a venue to have dreams and nightmares come to life.
When my mother would drag me to church I would dread going up to take communion, they would say come and get the body of Christ and the blood of Christ, all it was was wafers and wine but to a small child it held a weird sort of dread that only a child could imagine. I kept thinking that they had huge gallons of blood under the place mats that they would fill in the goblet and then feed to the patrons. And such long lines why were so many people eager to drink blood. And as I grew older I came to understand. And yet back deep in the last refuges of my child memories. I still kept that thread alive. Blood for wine, wine for blood. Never drink the blood.
And as I sit in here in a pew on a Tuesday afternoon. I hear birds up in the rafters, not many but a few. And I realize they are trapped. Trapped up there in this huge cage. Living off insects and whatever food fell on the floor from the children of the parishioners. And I think I could relate. Sometimes I feel trapped as well. And even in this church, this old church I feel trapped. I can leave anytime I want, but I can never be free. We are taught one thing in church. You cannot escape god. God is everything, god is everywhere, he is with us at all times. So Redd would might say its like one huge prison. And he might be right.
As I sit here I smell oldness. I smell dust, and wood varnish. I smell wine. I smell the birds. And through it all I am avoiding the obvious. I came here to pray. And I have yet to do that. Every person prays a little differently. Some start off Dear God, as if they were writing a letter. Others say a prayer for a person in their life, or for a sign. The signs never come. God is always quiet. God is always silent. When I pray, well let me tell you of my last prayer, the one I am doing right now. “My name is Jude. One of your lost sheep. I will not ask you for anything. Not for me anyway. I know better than to ask. I have suffered a lot. And I will suffer more in the future. I know this, I accept your will. But my home is fading. The last bit of the past, holding on for dear life. I do not want to see it go. Not yet, no not quite yet. If I lose it, I will be lost. I will be destitute. Help me be strong for it. Help me keep that dream alive. If you chose to help me, I will dedicate more of my time. I will work on my brothers and sisters and help guide them to you. Say hello to my father and friends up there, I cant wait to see them again. Thank you”
That is sort of how my prayers go. They do not get answered. They never do. When I asked a priest long ago why god allowed so much suffering in the world and still say he loves us, he answered that without suffering there could be no compassion. I never believed that at all. Instead that was the first time I came to despise the word God and his word as well. Life should not be suffering and yet that is all it is. Life should not be this hard. And yet it always is.
Not long ago there was a tragedy in El Paso. Try telling those fathers, mothers, and children that were lost that this is all gods plan. And describe to me the look they will give you. Hatred grows out of love.
(I take a deep breath, inhaling old dust and candle flames. I feel my stomach flip a bit as I do.)
I get up and get into the middle of the pews and start making my way out, the echo from my shoes ringing loud. Then I hear the flapping of wings, for a split second I think its Angels flying away. But I realize it is not angels just the trapped birds up top. I feel sorry for them. I want to try and do something to set them free. But I remember that there is no freedom not in here not outside. The birds will be just as trapped as I am no matter where they go. At least here they are free from other predators and will be shielded from the heat. They are better off.
As I reach the large wooden doors I push it open with my left hand as the sun hits me. I cringe for a moment then walk to my car. I open the handle with my left hand and turn the car on. I let the cool breeze from the car ac hit me.
It is time I concentrate on Reaper if even for a moment. Reaper let me introduce myself. I am called Saint Jude, after the patron saint of lost hope. I know nothing about Philosophy like you. I do not have a large IQ. I am not like my brother Redd, he is a founding father of this place. I am not. I am something else. I believe in god. Though I hate him. I believe in myself. But I hate myself too. I am the very essence of a walking talking contradiction. I am loyal to those who are loyal to me. I am strong but weaker than most. I am sane and down to earth but insane in what I preach and what I believe.
I put the car in drive and do not drive far, past 4th street down the road and stop in front of a pool hall.
I am not a good pool player but it helps get your mind off things. Reaper you have worked hard all your life, but never with direction always lead in directions with dead ends. Isn't that the way it is for most people. Anyone who tells you they know what they want in life is lying. Anyone who makes a plan since high school and has their life mapped out is headed for a big heartache. You cant plan the rest of your life away, if you do, you’ll find you miss the detours that take you to where you need to be not where you belong. Part of life is the destination yes true, but it is the trip that defines us. That makes us who we are, or who we will be.
Reaper I do not know you. But you seem to be getting along better than how you started. You do not shy away from conflict which is good. But I am not a conflict. I am a force of nature onto myself. I bring the doors down upon myself and anyone in my vicinity comes down as well.
Last night I dreamt I was a bird just like the trapped ones in the church. And instead of flying through the clouds and being free. I kept flying into windows, breaking myself each time. Only to come back to life somehow and start up again, each time flying into walls and windows. A version of Don Quixote but in bird form.
I never broke a window or a door in my dream but still I kept on. That is how I am in SFT. I do not stop. I do not rest. I never walk away, and win or lose I make sure my opponent is broken. Do you understand?
You will be judged and weighed, you will be found unworthy. Everyone will be found unworthy and you must pay a price for such a thing. You must suffer as I suffer. You are about to enter the past versions of SFT, where walking talking dinosaurs still roam. It is not for you, but we are unavoidable. And better me than Redd. Trust me you don't want to face him. He is the current in the deep end of the ocean. You swim too far and there is no coming back. Nothing but you and the dark sea and whats lurking just beneath.
I will show you the light, I will show you the truth and when its all said and done you will still be the world champion, but that will be all. You chose a good name. Reaper holds truth in religion. But I am not here to teach truth, just light.
Why do we hurt? So we may have compassion, what a load of bull.
(I open the car door with my left hand, close the warm door and walk into the billiards hall.)
fade away
