Today the pope said he was getting rid of limbo, and all those pagan babies I worried about in third grade must be filing into heaven one at a time.
I wonder if heaven's got a DMV take a number setup, or if they just open up a whole new subdevelopment? There's gotta be a long line, going back to the neaderthal age of babies waiting to get in.
Then there's all those good hearted adult pagans that were supposed to be waiting too.
I wonder what the waiting room looked like, if it had horrible uncomfortable chairs, bad bathrooms, horrible coffee that tasted like cat piss filtered through broken and burnt walnut husks, with buletin boards on the walls covered in notices for things like the limboholics anonomyous group, and if the room had flickering flourescents and a strange pine disinfectant smell?
I knew the whole Catholic church and reliegon were horseshit by the time I was ten. And it was those poor pagan babies waiting in limbo forever that woke me up. I suppose I should be thankfull and not bite the hand that both blessed me and woke me up.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Monday, April 16, 2007
Right before we left on our road trip, my pal Bess and I played at the wintertime Farmer's Market. They liked us! We got fifty bucks tossed into the violin case, a great free organic breakfast, played two long sets for an oddly attentive crowd, and even had four people ask us if we had a cd and what our band name was. I told em' Led Zepplin.
It was good to play out again, I've been missing it since I got booted from the last band I was in.
Playing as an acoustic duo with Bess rocks. It's simple, organic and flowing, and really relaxing
to escape the weirdness that comes from playing with ego and insecurity driven singer songwriters. I sure love playing the loose instrumental music, and the crowd sure seemed to pay more attention than I expected.
The woman who runs the entertainment at the winter market wants us back again next fall when the big noisy, stroller and tourist choked market closes down again for the season.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
"Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis." Ralph Waldo Emerson