Futile Horn

02.12.2003 - 11:49 am (a change of heart)

videre possum

When I went to pick up my glasses they told me I had somehow managed to crack an unbreakable polycarb lens with daily everyday use. I'm a hero of some sort. The Polycarb Pulverizer. Yup.

Yesterday morning I was flipping through the channels and I saw an animated program featuring a long haired redhead with braids. And then a darker haired girl walked into the shot and I thought, holy shit, this is an Anne of Green Gables cartoon! At first I refused to believe it, but then there they were: Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert and Gilbert Blythe. Why do I know these names?!

Ruby Gillis was nowhere to be found.

I am not terribly certain yet, but I think something else may be alive in my walls. I also suspect something may be crawling around in my plenum. I am not sure how I know what a plenum is.

I saw the Oscar nominations being announced yesterday. I was pleased to hear that Richard Gere was nominated for his performance in fuck all.

I think instead of just telling my family that I withdraw from (and ridicule) all world religion, my public persona will slowly ween itself off theology. That is to say, for now I shall become a Jew for Jesus. I'll say that while I appreciate the baffling beauty of an all-powerful benevolent monistic deity in a decidedly dualistic creation, Christianity simply offers too much God; that in my search for a universal simplifying formula, the Christian equation provides unsettling highly values for one (1) that hopelessly confound and nullify my mathematics. I'll explain that my decision has nothing to do with any faltering love for the Trinity, but rather I must, for a temporary interval, step back from Mother Church and her persistent refusal to recognize the identity property until I can place myself on sounder metaphysical footing. When they ask why Jews for Jesus, I'll explain it felt right because by virtue of my current avoidance of pork and doing shit on Saturdays, I'm already in practice two thirds a member of the Chosen People. As an added bonus, this move will also go a long way in deflecting questions about why my walls are absolutely slathered with pictures of Sammy Davis, Jr. and Sandy Koufax. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pitch my tent in the back of a taxi cab somewhere.

Born to play the funky céilí,
Futile Horn