an autobiography
walden freeman
Posts: 511
god,
i hope you've been listening to my taunts and chants. tell jesus not to bother coming back, we've got an election to fix and a new arms to throw, or maybe i got that mixed up. give me regards to each kingdom you've either conquered or ignored or first conquered then ignored with your undying love. i smile into my rearview mirror, too focused on myself and my relation to the past to worry about things breaking in my future. don't you get it, saviors? don't you understand i unlike you have bills to pay? donations would be greatly appreciated but are not necessary. just keep that in mind.
however, the great problem with humanity is that our use of science and mathematics has -- on the surface, at least -- making our emotions less important and of course we're getting number. in fact, it's fitting that mathematics is based in numbers. it's ironic that we're using what is perhaps supposed to separate us precious and delicate humans from other animals is what is eventually going to turn us back into animals. again, it's all supposed.
but i am spending far too much time speaking of myself. this isn't right and neither is my attitude. how have you been, god? stressed out in the eternal tasteless limelight? are the halos around the heads of your serveants being replaced by headphones and bluetooths and are we reaching towards the apathetic epicenters of our own shaking heads? disbelief is a jury and we execute with proficiency our own cause.
is the weather warm and are the tropics still comfortable? i'd ask my father and brother but they are no where to be seen. i'd ask for forgiveness but i'd never forgive you, almighty god, if you said no. america is at war and i'm more concerned with fur coats and shining jewelry than i am with darfur and glistening fires glowing on the skylines of the middle east like an extended sunset. no good can come of me still living. no good can come of any of this. god, please, have mercy on yourself before you choose to abandon freedom of choice and decisions made hastily.
i pray for you, sometimes, god. that you might help rehabilitate yourself and take back what is rightly and rightfully yours. your right hand, your left hand, your son's crown of thorns and the persecuted masses chosen to bear neverending grief until the end. but really, i pray more for a championship for a philadelphia sports team. i am still your biggest fan though.
regretfully yours,
w.f.
i hope you've been listening to my taunts and chants. tell jesus not to bother coming back, we've got an election to fix and a new arms to throw, or maybe i got that mixed up. give me regards to each kingdom you've either conquered or ignored or first conquered then ignored with your undying love. i smile into my rearview mirror, too focused on myself and my relation to the past to worry about things breaking in my future. don't you get it, saviors? don't you understand i unlike you have bills to pay? donations would be greatly appreciated but are not necessary. just keep that in mind.
however, the great problem with humanity is that our use of science and mathematics has -- on the surface, at least -- making our emotions less important and of course we're getting number. in fact, it's fitting that mathematics is based in numbers. it's ironic that we're using what is perhaps supposed to separate us precious and delicate humans from other animals is what is eventually going to turn us back into animals. again, it's all supposed.
but i am spending far too much time speaking of myself. this isn't right and neither is my attitude. how have you been, god? stressed out in the eternal tasteless limelight? are the halos around the heads of your serveants being replaced by headphones and bluetooths and are we reaching towards the apathetic epicenters of our own shaking heads? disbelief is a jury and we execute with proficiency our own cause.
is the weather warm and are the tropics still comfortable? i'd ask my father and brother but they are no where to be seen. i'd ask for forgiveness but i'd never forgive you, almighty god, if you said no. america is at war and i'm more concerned with fur coats and shining jewelry than i am with darfur and glistening fires glowing on the skylines of the middle east like an extended sunset. no good can come of me still living. no good can come of any of this. god, please, have mercy on yourself before you choose to abandon freedom of choice and decisions made hastily.
i pray for you, sometimes, god. that you might help rehabilitate yourself and take back what is rightly and rightfully yours. your right hand, your left hand, your son's crown of thorns and the persecuted masses chosen to bear neverending grief until the end. but really, i pray more for a championship for a philadelphia sports team. i am still your biggest fan though.
regretfully yours,
w.f.
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