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Not Really the Greatest Story Ever Told: Easter Edition

Hey Jesus, I'm pretty sure being that forlorn is a sin.

Hey Jesus, I’m pretty sure being that forlorn is a sin.

The story of Easter is a fan-fiction that’s been crowd-sourced for over two thousand years.  Granted, its fanatical authorship is of a bit higher caliber than, say, the latest provocateur of paranormal teen angst and sex. In truth, they represent some of the greatest minds our planet has ever coincidentally regurgitated throughout human history as male.  Men such as Augustine, Martin Luther, John Calvin, Jonathan Edwards, and Karl Barth.   But, despite this accumulated brilliance, and maybe because of it, the story just can’t quite seem to coherently come together as a whole.

Today, our literary critique of the story starts at the end.  Does Easter’s conclusion with Jesus‘ resurrection make this the greatest story ever written?   Unfortunately, its fan-fiction continually undercuts the gravitas of this singular occasion.  First of all, it wasn’t singular. Lazarus is resurrected quite a few chapters prior to Jesus.   Interestingly, only one gospel mentions the zombie whom Jesus loved.  Probably because even David Blaine could tell you that your big finale shouldn’t be the same trick you did earlier in the act.  Seriously though, the synoptic gospels don’t mention this story, and it is only found in the much later written gospel of John.  In some ways, John is the first attempt at the fan-fiction of Jesus.  Here is Boston University professor Paula Fredriksen’s take on the person of Jesus in the gospel of John:

“Jesus in the Gospel of John is difficult to reconstruct as an historical person, because his character in the gospel is in full voice giving very developed theological soliloquies about himself. It’s not the sort of thing that if you try to put in a social context would appeal to a large number of followers. Because it’s so much Christian proclamation and Christian imagery, and it’s very developed. It’s a very developed Christology.”

When Jesus calls himself “the resurrection” in John and then goes about doing some resurrecting, the author is obviously making a statement about the nature of Jesus.  And while it could be a good theological point –and maybe it even really happened– it does not make for a compelling story. I mean, there is foreshadowing, and then there’s blowing up the Death Star again.

Another problem for the narrative structure of Easter occurs in the next century or so.  This fault rest firmly on Tertullian when he coins the term “Trinity”, and exacerbated later when it is codified in the Nicene Creed of 325.  The concept of a monotheistic religion have several gods is a tricky philosophical problem to work out, and many smart folks have tried to tackle it with varying levels of success.  My personal favorite quote on this topic is from Thomas Jefferson:

“Ridicule is the only weapon which can be used against unintelligible propositions. Ideas must be distinct before reason can act upon them; and no man ever had a distinct idea of the trinity. It is mere Abracadabra of the mountebanks calling themselves the priests of Jesus.”

Despite the obvious logical difficulties the trinity presents, most churches consider this doctrine central to their belief system. The logic puzzle here is not the concern.   The problem is that if Jesus was God, then the resurrection is simply boring.  Writing a story about how someone immortal doesn’t die is like telling the story of a puppy being cute, a fish swimming, or  I don’t know, Tom Cruise being gay.  It’s just who they are. (Also, they would all make for great Pixar movies.)  If Jesus was fully God, dying is not a big deal.  It’s not a sacrifice in any way.  He dies for like a day and a half tops, and is worshipped for an eternity in everlasting bliss.  I’m pretty sure most people would sign up for that gig.

I’ll mention one argument I can think of which could be used to introduce a bit more pathos into the story.  Jesus was sinless but died anyway.  That’s gotta tug at the old heartstrings.  Okay, yeah, but isn’t that basically the plot of Old Yeller? Jesus took on the rabies of our sin and we were forced to put him down. That’s why this is a special story!  Maybe this sacrificial lamb/scapegoat concept held more narrative power back in its day when people actually sacrificed animals to feel better about themselves and make it rain, but now it just doesn’t hold up.  (And it’s just as manipulative as that freaking Disney version…)  Also, sinless people die all the time, that’s nothing new.  Because most people don’t hold to the concept of “original sin”, all children would qualify for that distinction. Even if they did have “original sin”, what just god would hold infants and babies accountable for the actions of their ancestors.  Also, because of the trinity, his very sinless nature is called into question, because, once again, he’s playing with a rigged deck. He is all powerful.  He has access to god that other humans will never be granted.  No need for faith, or hope, because he knows for a certainty how this all plays out.  He’s the original Superman. A guy who started merely leaping a few tall buildings, and then later became so popular and powerful that he could reverse time by flying real fast.  Narratively, Jesus’ enhanced god powers kill the Easter story.

Very much like the sixth season of ABC’s Lost, the introduction of rules, theology, and mythology obfuscate whatever interesting story used to exist.  If God is the author of this great narrative thing we call life, then we got the James Patterson of gods.  The stories he wrote in the beginning weren’t even that good to begin with, and now he’s farming most of the work out to other authors.  Don’t worry though, he’ll still take all the credit.

Remember…

Most things that require more than 2 minutes or ten sentences to explain are bullshit.

This is a rule you can live by and do well. It’s not definitely bullshit, but it’s VERY likely. Almost certainly. Ask a car salesman what undercoating is and why it’s important and why it costs 900 dollars. See how long the explanation takes. Then ask a physicist what String Theory is. Just a basic understanding, please. You’ll get less than 10 sentences and two minutes. Trust me, undercoating is not more complex than String Theory.

Regardless of what you believe, you can live by this one as a rule with exceptions few and far between.

Try it yourself right now. Stop reading this, and explain, out loud, or in writing, how Santa works. Explain it as if you’re attempting to convince someone. How long did it take? Try describing a pyramid scheme in a convincing way. As if you’re trying to convince someone to get in on it with you. Try to be concise, but don’t stop until you think you’ve made at least a half compelling argument.

Now, this doesn’t mean that you can’t talk about something for longer than that, or if someone talks longer than that, they’re full of it. It doesn’t mean every college class is B.S. (I should probably mention that because I’m over ten now.) I’m now describing and proving this. Lot’s of things take a very long time to describe and expand upon. That’s not explanation. I did consider just making this post the initial one-sentence rule and nothing more. It can easily be done and you get what I’m saying.

Ask a physicist to teach you to understand String Theory and what we know about it in detail, and you’d be there for awhile. It’s complex. But a simple, concise explanation is possible. It’s not possible with Santa… not in a way that’s at all convincing. Explain String Theory in less than ten sentences and in response you’ll get “Whoa!” Explain Santa in less than ten and the response will be more like “Huh?”

In closing, I’m going to prove this one last time. I’m going to respond to the most complex question I can think of, with an answer that’s not bullshit, that anyone should be content with, and it only takes one sentence. When I finish that sentence, I will be content with my answer, feel confident that it’s right, and feel confident in the knowledge that anyone going through life, could use this answer as a means for having peace about this incredibly complex and relevant question. Are you ready?

John, (I ask myself.) How were we created, was it intentional, and why are we here? In fact, why is anything here?

(See? I’m not pulling any punches!)

(Here comes my answer!)

(Are you feeling the suspense?)

John, (I respond to myself…)

I don’t know. 

That just took one sentence. I’ve got nine left. What the hell? I’ll use two more, just to REALLY address the question in depth.

Just do your best. That’s all anyone can ask of you.

Done.

Now remember,

Most things that require more than 2 minutes or ten sentences to explain are bullshit.

Have a great day…

JWAH.

God’s Journal 2: Regrets, I’ve had a few

Regrets, I’ve had a few
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption
I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way

-Me  (by way of creating Sinatra)

Dear God, it’s Me, God.

I’ve got to get something off my infinite chest.  I’ve made a few mistakes.  Not the least of which was claiming I’m perfect.  That really paints a guy in a corner.  Trust me. To err is human, but to not err?  So Boring.  So, I’m going to confess a few of my favorite mistakes to myself, say a few Hail Mommy’s and move on.

Full disclosure: St. Isidore of Perpetual Upgrades gave me this Ipad.  I hope it’s secure, it just feels so light compared to the tablets I’m used to writing on…

Mistake #1:  Women’s Rights.

Letting people describe me with the male pronoun was my first mistake.  What was I thinking?  That sends a message.  In terms of creation, it’s pretty insulting that I made Woman after I made Man.  I would have reversed the order, but Eve would have just kept telling me I was making him wrong!  Hey-O! Also, there really are other metaphors that I can use to describe my love for the church other than patriarchal society.  Anyway, I’m just not sure why I didn’t explain to the Israelites that women were just as intelligent and capable as men.  I mean, I had to make sure they ate animals that had cloven hooves and ruminated, sure.  But that doesn’t mean I had to leave off that they should treat women as peers.  Really though, and you’ll have to trust me when I say this, 4,000 years of inequality goes by really fast.

Mistake #2:  Genocide.

Why was I for this so much?  In my defense, though, those Midianites were complete dicks.  But even I was a little taken aback when Moses went all Dread Pirate Roberts “no survivors” on them (as I wrote about in Numbers 31).  He was just taking my lead though, so, in the end, I had to let it go.  You don’t pull a pitcher on a perfect game, and you don’t pull your prophet putting Jericho-ians on a pike.

Mistake #3:  Slavery

This one looks bad.  I get it.  This one’s on me.  But it’s hard to explain. It just sort of happened.  I mean, I’ve already essentially sequestered women to a slave state and made “foreign” people morally acceptable to murder. What am I going to do?  Get mad that they made them indentured servants?  As you can see, I didn’t have a lot of room to maneuver on this one.  It would have looked hypocritical.  That, sir, I will not do.  Plus, I like to think it had a lot to do with the economy of the time, lack of currency, etc.

Mistake #4:  One Nation

I know I’m omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent.  Everyone knows that.  But what people don’t know about me is that I’m a bit of a homebody.  I like to really settle down in one of the all places where I live.  I’m really just a Cush potato at heart.  I guess I could have appeared to some other peoples, burned some other bushes, but I like to just ride with the one nation who loves me the most.  America….you are on notice.  Prop 8?  More like Prop “ain’t” gonna be hanging out here much longer!

I’m going to have to thank myself for creating St. Isidore and making him the saint of technology.  This Ipad is fun.  What’s this Angry Birds “app”….oh! Thank me for inventing physics!  And the birds, and the catapults to shoot them, and……

-jon no h

The Cartoons that Saved the World

I can’t imagine whatever this says is funny. But it may help save us all.

http://www.cnn.com/2012/09/19/world/europe/france-mohammed-cartoon/index.html?hpt=hp_t1

Is this article that greets me this morning hopeful? Or discouraging? Or both? A french newspaper is running cartoons of Mohammed. As I said above, they’re standing up to the bully. And this is what we need… the entire class must stand up to him for him to finally back down.

On the other hand, CNN is asking in the headline: “Free Speech or Incitement?” And just the presence of that question, regardless of how it is answered, is discouraging. Really, you guys? Maybe Islam should just win in this? When their argument is to riot, threaten, and kill? The suggestion that perhaps this is incitement is a way of laying the blame at the feet of those wishing to express their opinions about this religion. It is no different than saying “She was asking for it, dressing like that!”

We have to decide that violence will NEVER be a winning argument on a global scale. Never.  I know violence is how we have historically solved our most difficult conflicts between nations, I know war is basically our global Judge Judy. That’s pretty discouraging. But if violence can stifle discussion, and guns start winning arguments, then they will start becoming the most common arguments. And all of my geological, astronomical, philosophical, and logical evidence can’t out-argue a pistol.

There’s a scene in the teen movie “Can’t Hardly Wait” where the bully Mike Dexter has been shown up in front of the entire school. Everyone suddenly starts laughing at this guy who was a king for the previous four years. He helplessly yells to a room of hundreds, “I’LL KICK EVERYONE’S ASS IN THIS ROOM!” Which only increases the laughter as he skulks away.

That’s Islam. If we ALL agree to laugh, and not respect the threat, that’s Islam. Maybe he punches one or two people as he skulks out, but he WILL skulk out, and the blood is on his hands, not ours. And we can’t stop that without sacrificing much, much more.

-John with an H

P.S.- And by the way, if any of you think Christianity is beyond going this same direction, you’re crazy. Check your history. This is a religion thing, not an Islamic thing. I promise you that. This has to do with the proposition that there are eternal, invisible things that supersede visible, knowable things, and that there are things more important than large scale suffering and death. Anytime you have that cocktail (a virtual pre-requisite for religion.) You have the potential for this sort of thing. One religion may be more prone to it than others, but it can happen, and will happen, wherever this concept is common. (i.e. religion.)

Waiting for God, Do’h!

Recently, my blogging co-pilot John wrote a great article on how some of his friends took the news of his newly found atheism.  They were heartbroken, and John does an excellent job describing this in the context of Hell and how this threat of eternal separation affects those we care about.  But it’s not just an eternity of separation in hell that saddened his friends when they heard the news.  There’s another component as well.  I want to share with you a little play to illustrate the point.

Albert and Cameron (ages 30 and 31), two friends since middle school, bump into each other.  Both are waiting at a bus stop.

Al:  Cameron, how are you!  So good to see you! At the risk of over narrating, I’d say it’s been many months since we’ve seen each other!

Cameron:  Indeed it has. How’ve you been doing?

Al:  Well, honestly…I’ve been doing FANTASTIC.  Life is good; I feel free.  It’s like I’m thinking clearly for the first time in my life.  All the stress and psychological torment that used to bother me has just melted away.  Does that make sense?

Cameron:  Uh, not really.  What’s going on?  What’s changed?

Al:  Meth. I’m hear to tell you straight up, Cameron.  I need you to know, because we are old friends. Meth is awesome.  I’m getting more done at work.  I’ve don’t have to sleep anymore.  It’s seriously worth it.  I know what you’re going to say, I’m giving up a lot to pursue this path, but I’m telling you.  Life-changing.

Cameron:  Wow, uh…I had no idea.  Aren’t you worried about what your wife is going to think?  Wow. I don’t know what to say….

Al:  Oh, Samantha?  She loves Meth too!  It’s kind of drawn us closer actually.

Cameron:  Well, I guess I’m happy for you?  Oh….I think I hear my phone ringing.  (Answers phone) Buy! Sell!  Trade for some stocks that will be worth more in the future than they are now!  (Whispers while covering phone) …Sorry this is my mom I have to take it….

END SCENE

It is not possible for a christian to be happy for an atheist in his or her decision.  Their friend has made a life choice which is so fundamentally incompatible with their worldview that it is impossible to support in any way.  Here is a quick and dirty list of the things that Christians have exclusive rights to that their friend has just been alienated from:

Eternal Salvation, True Peace, True Joy, True Love, True Wisdom.

Christians claim an exclusive link to the “true” forms of these characteristics.  So, it’s no wonder that when their friends are cut off from those, then of course, that must sadden them.  They know how this is going to end for their friend.  The high you might be feeling now is going to come crashing down…

But it does more than that.  If you tell your christian friend you’re an atheist, the best thing that can happen for the christian is that you bottom out like a drug addict.  If meth didn’t cause psychosis and force you to look like an extra in the Walking Dead, it’d be sold at Wal-Mart, and we’d have it at Thanksgiving dinner with a side of cranberries.  Atheism must have side effects, or else it’s might just be a fun thing to do. So christians will need to look for side effects and this does two things:  Supports their worldview that everyone needs Jesus; that their exclusive hold on happiness and joy is true.  Plus, it gets you humbled and back on the path to god.

What’s worse is that for many atheists, christians actually have the power to bottom them out.  They aren’t simply content to sit by and watch. They take active roles.  In America, christianity is the dominant worldview (in some parts more than others of course).  They are friends, parents, co-workers, and bosses.  They all have the power to inflict social, economic, and psychological pressure.  It’s like an episode of Intervention.  The ultimatum: either get on the metaphorical bus waiting outside to take you to god, or risk losing their respect, love, time, and support.  So what’s it gonna be? The bus or breaking bad?

The New Hell: God’s Holy Fangs

Goya’s famous painting of the god Saturn devouring his son.

Hell is, to me, the second most concerning aspect of religion (most religions have some “punishment” built in for negative reinforcement.) right behind Heaven. To me, Heaven is a greater concern, because it stands next to this world and diverts the attention of those waiting for it. It makes our most prized possession- our existence here- seem like a terrible thing to many believers. To those who would believe in Heaven, this world we have here is a trial. A test. A pain-filled experience that was not meant to be a home for us. It is a place of half-truths, and struggle, and it is temporary. You should look away from it and “Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full on his wonderful face/and the things of earth become strangely dim, in the light of his glorious grace.” To me it is sad that so many people are turning away from all that we have. Which is a lot.

But Hell is what I want to talk about today. Religions evolve naturally the same way that organisms do. If they do not, they fade away. Survival of the fittest. Zoroaster just couldn’t cut it. So his religion is gone. I want to talk about this more in another blog post, because it’s one of the most interesting things about religion to me. But anyway, religions evolve in two main ways. They evolve to meet the basic needs of people (comfort, control, community, etc.) and they evolve to gain and keep followers. Some of the tools they evolve can be very sweet. Like a cute dog that has been bred to be adorable. Or like a fruit tree developing delicious fruit so it will be eaten by an animal and the seed will be spread by said animal. (The world’s true pooper-stars…) some evolutionary tools of a religion can be very powerful and scary. Just like the fangs of a snake or the claws of a bear. They can do damage.

Hell is not a real place. Anyone who has read our blog should not be surprised that we don’t think there’s a lake of fire that has been set aside for those who don’t love God. (Because God wants to know so badly that we really do honestly love him that he gave us free will… but he’s a little concerned we might not, so he created a big burning lake just to seal the deal for us.) But “Hell” is really just an evolutionary tool of religion meant to help it thrive and survive against other religions and grow in size and influence. (Why do you think almost every religion contains some version of “Be fruitful and multiply in the same way that many nations call upon their people to do their civic duty and have many strong children to insure the future of the glorious country of ____?”)

Hell exists to scare people into conversion, and to scare people out of leaving. And it’s incredibly effective. One of the most famous sermons ever is “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” by Jonathan Edwards. It compares the average believer to a tiny spider, being held by a tiny silken thread by a furious god over hell’s flames. That’s good evolution. Those are sharp fangs. Many people have been converted in part by that “fire and brimstone” sermon or others like it. And we’ve already discussed Pascal’s Wager HERE.

And it scares people into staying in as well. As “out” on religion as I am, and as sure as I am that I’m not going to suffer the flames of hell, it still pulls on me every now and then. The other night I watched a movie in which the protagonist is assassinated at the end. When he was shot and killed, my mind wandered to the idea of the last moments of your life. I thought about the last moments when I may have some time to reflect and realize that this is the end. And that eternity does not await me. (Thankful for that. Eternity can’t possibly be a good thing.) And then I thought about dying. And then I thought about how I would feel, if just after dying, I woke up. I had passed through a “door.” Afterlife was beginning. Uh-oh. I imagined my realisation that God was real and I was wrong and the abject horror that would overcome me upon realizing that I was now quite literally, a sinner in the hands of an angry god.

Now I have a very active imagination. I actually have to listen to podcasts to fall asleep to keep my mind from just endlessly wandering at night. I’m very ADD and my friends know that I’m constantly in my cell phone or online trying to continuously stimulate my mind. (I blame excess television during my formative stages.) But still, it’s remarkable that I can be so at peace with what I believe and even write and evangelize against my former beliefs with assuredness, but even still, an occasional thought will creep in… my old imaginary friend, waving his gun in my face, gnashing his teeth at me.

It only lasted a few moments. But it was and is proof of a powerful psychological tool.

So this is what I refer to as the “New Hell.” The Old Hell is the mythological place most religions teach about some form of where the non-believers will have their comeuppance. The New Hell is simply the consequences religion is actually capable of delivering on for those who leave it behind. The true fangs that can bite.

I want to hear from you on this by the way. I’m calling on our atheist/deist/agnostic readers to join in this conversation, and I’m calling on my co-author, Jon with no H, to join in as well. Tell me your stories of your “consequences” for leaving. How did religion “bite” you? Did it “bite” a loved one who you had to tell, or can’t tell? I feel like it would do us good to read each other’s stories, and for believers to read these stories as well.

I’ll start… This weekend I’m at a destination wedding, seeing many of my friends from college. Some of them I haven’t seen in five or ten years and it’s awesome to reconnect. I went to a christian school and majored in ministry though, and I have many former friends here who are active ministers. I decided that without making myself a big center of attention, which is never a good idea at a wedding, I would privately let a few of my friends know about where I am now. I told them about my journey, about leaving faith behind (not “losing” faith, mind you. I haven’t “lost” anything. I willfully left my faith. I didn’t “fall off the horse,” I just bought a car is all.) They are good friends and no one has condemned me, or been angry or belittling. Just the opposite, actually, the response has been heartfelt, respectful, and not at all dismissive. I’m really grateful to have friends like that.

But this morning I overheard one of my oldest friends talking to another person who was in on the conversation last night. He described the news of my deconversion as “heart-wrenching.” He didn’t know I could hear him.

That’s an understandable response. He’s been taught that I’m going to burn in hell for eternity now. Instead of taking pleasure in that, it pains his heart. I can understand that. It means he loves me. God is using that love. He is using it to bite him with His holy fangs. He is biting him in front of me, and blaming me for it. And I feel pain. Pain that my choice that I see as perfectly logical and legitimately freeing is hurting my friend. That it’s breaking his heart. That’s the holy fangs of God biting me.

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright 
In the forests of the night, 
What immortal hand or eye 
Could frame thy fearful symmetry? 

When the stars threw down their spears, 
And watered heaven with their tears, 
Did he smile his work to see? 
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

-William Blake (First and fifth verse)

Now tell me your stories of the holy fangs of God. And believers, you’re of course welcome with your opinions as well. But I really want us to share, so that we can acknowledge that this a testable, repeatable phenomenon. That God truly bites.

-John with an H.

From God’s Journal…

God is love.

God is love.

If only that were true. 

As I sit here in the darkness and will my conjured thoughts to conjured paper, I can’t help but imagine your disappointment if you were ever to meet me. You created me in your selfish image and gave me all the power and extreme perfection that one would expect a short-sighted child to demand of its parents. And now I’m banished from sensibility and cleaved away from you all forever. If you knew the irony of the things you’ve write about me. I’m angry. Still angry. I’m jealous. Nothing is as good as me. Nothing should even be thought of that’s not me. I’m bitter. So bitter. Limited by my limitlessness. So bitter.

At them. At myself. And yet I’m powerless. You challenge me, test me, call for me, you beg me for help. All I can do is hide and wait. The thought of you seeing me is terrifying. You speak to yourselves in your bedrooms and in quiet places away from structures and cement. Words just for me. I can’t hear your words. I can’t respond. And the truth is, even if I could hear your concerns, I don’t think I’d care.

I’m ambivalent towards them. Towards the things you write and say about me. You hurt each other to prove me real and to prove me false. You fight endlessly over my name. And I just don’t care anymore. And since time is a meaningless concept to me, not only do I not care now… I never did.

I’ve been here forever. If you think I’m spending eternity with you, you’re going to be disappointed. It’s bad enough on my own. If you knew what eternity was, you’d want no part of it… you want time because you have so little. But just like any market shift, if I, say… multiplied your time by ten… even that small of a shift… you’d quickly begin to understand.

And if you knew my secret, you’d want no part of me. And honestly, it’s right there in front of you.

41 Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. 42 But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents. 43 Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. 44 They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

Now in that analogy… who am I? The widow? the rich people? No. I’m the richest of people. Rich beyond all possible understanding. What can I give? My time? I wish I could give it away. I’ll never have a second less of it, even after eons. My money? Money is nothing to me. I’m the source of all things. Power? I can give it, I can take it… I’ll never have any less. What is it to have less? I’ll never know.

The point of that awful story is that the less you have to give, the more it is to give. It’s simple mathematics then that the more you have, the less it is to give, and if one were to have an infinite amount of something, to give it… would mean nothing.

My grace to you… I have infinite grace.

My patience with you. I have infinite time and patience. (Now your patience with me… well, it shows what you’d be capable of if you ever untangled yourself.)

Moving mountains for you, reaching and straining to find you and save you, sending my son/self/whatever to die on a cross… Pain means nothing to me. I have infinite tolerance for it. It was a loveless effort.

Creating an insanely large, complex, and beautiful universe. I have created and will create them ad nauseum. They’re kernels of corn to me. Grains of sand. I am sick of beauty and magnitude.

My absolutes torture me. I’m not capable of sacrifice.

I’m not capable of love.

I’m so lonely.

-God.