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(s)ain’t Patrick’s day.

using jesus as your avatar, whether gaming or spiritually, and trying to witness to the rest of reality with god as your co-pilot… whether founded on a new age wave of principle, or finding your own spiritual basis for knowing your place in the world, there are too many cheap dead ends that will cost you much more without a little faith in yourself first… it is difficult to see jesus just casually walking to work day after day, making minimum wage or less like many of us, and still finding the time to be so holy and insightful and patient… i hate to vacillate between these arcane ideas of traditional order and those of many other cosmic notions, but it is the only way to question this restrictive situation we find ourselves within…some detrimental form of consciousness to absolve our queries of torment, a deity for which we can pour all our hopes and dreams into, and will bear the weight of this unified directional force… why saints anyways?… all those who have been killed in religious sacrifice to move things forward, but used like proposed golden idols to justify too much in this “blissful” state of realization that i turn now to another example of class-based oppression, where the exalted take their abuse of power seriously only too late… today, melting into the heavy drink will hit hard those willing to party until late, and will take some lord’s name in vain from the hangover of the day after this… washing the sorrow from the bones and guts with powerful venom too strong to imbibe for too long, celebrating the dull and atrophied way we can be too stupid to think, and always wading into the kiddie pool at four in the morning with rancid smells on the breath… this is the praise we have twisted to mean get wasted one more time, and if you see a leper-chaun, let them know that you need a ride back to the golden brick road… but that all you have left is loose change to make the destination seem real, as you talk to a lamppost, and squeal in reply to their answers… there are many more sacraments to leave behind without needing to border on retarded this year… becoming a drunken lout only looks good from the inside, but from the outside, you cannot get any shit done in any “sane” way… thanks, saints… as the liquored debauchery abounds in a classic bacchanalian sense yet all too real in the modern version of this… you can try to take for granted your position on the food chain, but sooner or later your piper gets paid, and pretty fat i might add… to play a tune that leads the swoon for dancing fates, but there is never any time to waste when you are wasted all the time, catalepsy hits the best of us, and at times too soon to merit a valid response in turn… we can try to glance at the reality of it all at once, but but our points of view are somehow a little narrower than it was yesterday… we shall see what tomorrow brings, won’t we now, and maybe it will work out amicably…

Thanks, khet.