the faulted one crips on....

I am so sick of the Waking Up Jesus blog and book. Writing in the voice a deity, requires me to rationalize all of my behavior into some symbolic show... a performance. I am very good at taking someting that has happened and giving it a context, though this a trick that requires running fast and loose with the truth.

These religious people who instill in themselves and others absolute convictions are completly beyond me. I guess this is good, because you have to question everything in this forest of lies and half truths and spin doctors and all the petty agendas of all the not so petty people. I wanted that book to tell too many stories at once.

I wanted to talk about the debacle my life in the arts has been; simply trying to stay true to doing art for the sake of art, and not money, might seem simple to some but it becomes increasingly complex on an empty stomach. I guess never having had to really make a living at the arts has helped. Not that I make a living. I make about a half a living. What can you do? I think I will always be the brokest person I know on some levels. I am gambling on a game that does not always pay off... and by my own rules.

I am not trying to reinvent the wheel anymore. I drive effortlessly on the wheels that I have.

I tried to write comedy the other day just to see what would happen, and came up with probably what will be the last ever bogging bush. Who knows? I am so ready to get back to writing about issues more abstract and universal than local political issues; ready to be the one who sets a few thoughts rolling in the minds of people who can use them better than I ever have.

I knoq rhw pettiness of people. THey will like you and turn on you on a dime. Usually, without even bothering to make sure that their assumptions about you are correct. Especially in the city, where there is always some person to hang out with, should one choose. I never do, for reasons harder to explain than that I am a loner, because in most ways I am not, I just like to be able to think about whatever I want, and this is difficult when trying to hold up a conversation.

The comedy story brought me no mirth at all while I was writing it. That was weird. Happens.

I did not meet my deadline for having the new editions of the books up, but I did make great strides toward at least having them done for CHristmas. I had slapped together the blogged writing from waking up jesus and the elves attic, telling an almost insiders tale, and then had to go back and make sure that people who were not as famaliar with the tale realized where I was coming from. Telling a story in poetry in what is more a mental landscape than a physical one, is difficult. There is not one to move through space when one is trying to capture a dramatic, possibly fradulent, spiritual experience of the most violent sort.

I am back to feeling like the topic is too diseased to talk much about. I will always criticize the excesses of religion, and the hypocrisy and their use by political forces, yet I understand better now why people believe the crazy shit that they do.

Writers like me are to blame, some. I mean, I deal with the issue of violence and anger and being a primal beast in jeans and tennis shoes trying to pretend otherwise, ny writing violent comedy. People think I am a serial killer. I write about spiritual matters, people think I want to start a cult. I write about a revolution of values, people I think I want them to start shooting at each other... I write that I want peace, and people are ready to abondan the Iraqi people to what would have probably been a dire fate... I say you really do need war sometimes, and you think I want armies raging about the globe making everyone share my values (or yourse, more likely).

There is almost no winning without being able to fully explain what seems too obvious to even write.... part of the reason so much of my comedy is self-effacing is because I know the trap of taking my one little life too damn seriously. I still get my leg caught in this bear trap daily, but I at least notice it is the trap that is doing it, not god or some chemical in my head or another person or poverty or whatever. There is always someone worse off... and all that.

I have spent about all of the mental energy that I can on trying to decipher my present circumstances with the government, and indeed my public... I have to just move on with my life as if nothing happened. This is pretty serious to the people who are still involved in my monitoring, and to address you spies directly, let me just say that I have no further political plans what-so-ever. I want to support my issues, write my comedy, give readings, sell my books and go on with my life.

If you consider my damn books so dangerous, then you should allow me to talk to people so I can quell that nonsense. I do not want people using my words for their nefarious myths anymore. Unless the entire world is ready to believe in some figure like Jesus, he can only in the end be divisive in my work. I would rather seek some kind os consensus. They matter much more to me than the differences. At the same time, there is no removing my hatred for in-justics, etc... or my view that no one is to blame for this shit.

Since childhood, I have always thought that most criminals had a reason to be criminals. Bad breaks, genes, genies... whatever. A very psychological view of the matter. Now I am prone to add a lot of economics and lack of education to the equation. Mostly though, people just need a few more good options. If there is a golden ring, most will reach for it.

This is why I keep coming back to the idea of forgiving everyone, even though I can't seem to achieve this in my gut, it fits my head most of the time. Sure, I have thoughts otherwise, the same petty impulses for vengence that are natural, but I would rather just move on... hope the path is easier on up ahead.

Oh, well... this has just been a ramble about my interior monolouge for the last few weeks. Sorry to bore ya.