God has a penis
This clears that whole messy what-is-the-gender-of-Yahweh thing up quite nicely. Sort of.
...And now for something completely different
Why read this? Curséd democratic publishing revolution anyway. I'd set the type in a Gutenburg press controlled by a king over Typepad any day. Well.. maybe not. Anyway, what follows is a rare personal I-just-need-an-outlet monologue.
I'm trepidatiously awaiting the wane of my 20s. Interestingly, I discovered I have a slew of friends who have birthdays within a week or so of mine. Maybe there's something to this whole astrology thing.
The age of 30 means a great deal to me, mostly because I've always decided that it would. There are innumerable self-destructive behaviors I'm compelled to check as I enter full blown responsible adulthood. I'm looking for a martial art to study. I want to rent a full blown studio in which to practice my art. I want to find a girl to travel with. Goddamit I want to do a little dance on every continent like Matt did. I'd really like to wake up without visions of slamming my pickax up through my gullet. I want to define the field of my mastery with a draughtsman's touch, and to be the best in the world at the unique thing I do.
I understand that those of you already over 30 are chuckling mirthfully right now, but I've made this number thing important to me and I'll be damned if I don't use it as a springboard toward a whole new kind of ass-kickingness. Think of it as a milestone.
More often than not, I've been lost in thought lately. The strangeness of circumstance is deliciously, deliriously surreal. Trying to get into other peoples' heads is not nearly as satisfying as sitting back and watching what happens, feelings be damned. Explosions have long and satisfying aftershocks associated with them.
Somehow my job has become fun again. I think it's a little like learning to surf on the biggest break beach in the world. Slowly the elements of my strengths are working together in unison and the light at the end of the tunnel is bright indeed. I've sat out a few big breakers, but the horizon is swelling with the best one ever and I'm gonna catch it and ride that fucker into the foam. These are good times.
People keep saving me. Drowning me and pulling me up, a witch trial. I can't stop thinking about You, but no matter how hard I look, I think that we're basically good, if inscrutable. Even listening to a friend tell me that the whole tsunami thing is overblown just made me like her more for her aggresively PC-be-damned personality.
I got screwed a bit by love recently. Again with the surfing in too big of surf. I guess I think it's a little sad that the potential vibrancy of real old-fashioned ecstatic emotion is so often tempered by fear and self-loathing. I'll never be one to sit on the beach and watch the rollers come in without charging a wave with every intention of kicking its ass. I'm welcoming the new with arms open like a kid in a sandbox.
I'm happy, so shoot me. Just give me a warning shot so I can cartwheel out of the way.
Happy 30th to Jason
My good friend Jason turns 30 last Friday, quits smoking and keeps blowing my mind. You're a good man, you are.
Robin Williams had a joke: He named his penis "Hap". Hap Penis. Get it?
I'm done now.