I Thought You Died Alone A Long Long Time Ago

I think about things like Ash Wednesday and Easter and the whole deal. The one person, if given the chance, that I would invite to dinner for a chat and some grub would be Jesus. Not in a evangelical way, the way Christians immediately list him off as the answer to every question posed in front of them. But here we have a guy, who really existed, Son of God or not, who taught and preached one thing and then has lived more vibrantly posthumously than anyone else in the history of time. Any way you slice it, he was given a raw deal. And I see what has happened since his death and what people do in his name--the hatred, the murder, the judgement, the invasions, the wars...I'd like to get his take on all of it. It sort of reminds me of those artists whose albums are out for a long time and then somehow the radio stations pick up one of the singles and they just explode onto the scene like they haven't been around forever. He taught tolerance and love and turn-the-other-cheek and cut to today, there's a website called Jesus Hates Fags.

Questions to the man himself:

--"Do you hate fags?" [yeah, didn't think so]
--"Mary was totally your wife wasn't she?" [I have a hard time believing Jesus was sent by God to live a human's life and not experience the one activity that God put us on the Earth for--"Go forth and multiply." It's hard to die a thirty-something virgin, even back then. Unless you're Issac Newton, then maybe.]
--"Crucifixtion totally blows, right?"
--"Have we gotten this whole thing wrong?"
--"Can I have your autograph?" [though this one would prove problematic, there's no autograph to compare it to--hard to convince people I actually got Jesus to sign my cocktail napkin]
And most importantly
--"Could you turn this water into wine for me?" [DAMN that's a cool trick]

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Random sidenote--as I was typing all that, a random paper clip came whizzing by my face. [growl] Neighbor...

"Oh, it's on now, bitch!"

"No, I have a question." [Billie on full blast, you understand]

"What?"

[There is a small huddle of paralegals around the big table]

"So a woman who is a front for a gay man is a beard, right?"

"Right"

"So what's a man who is a front for a lesbian?"

[pause. reflection]

"I don't know...a pussy shield?"

"Ewww..." [go all the boys, the girls start laughing]

But I really don't know. Add that to my list of Jesus questions.

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I miss Dru a lot. We both have this odd tendency to attract even stranger situations and shenanigans. We used to do it together. Then things got...weird...and then he went on tour and it can't happen anymore for a while. But these curious incidents will occur and he's the first person I want to tell. I thought with him gone my life would be relieved of most of its problems. Not that my problems are directly Dru related (well, maybe one), but he was really my only close connection to People Who Hurt Me and I thought everything would get at least easier once he left, if not better. It's not the case. That stuff still stings and I just miss my friend. Spring gave me a bunch of books to read, but I miss mine and Dru's book club.

But I realize I'm very adept at replacing my social scene. Making friends has never been a problem for me. Or keeping them, for that matter. I'm not tooting my own horn or anything; some people are good at physics. I'm not. But I am good at meeting people. And I seem to have taken the Boys of Doom and replaced them with Boys of Work. Once again, I find myself part of an all-male crew. None of them have seen me naked. Yet. Ha, just kidding. I was good about turning down that bad idea sex, remember? It's condemned me to a life of celibacy and I may have to walk to the ends of the Earth before I find love that's a Good Idea, but I'm determined to do that. Or get 23948024398 cats and a Zyrtec prescription.

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I stand close to Crush and we talk and joke like buddies. I wonder what it would be like to kiss him. Then I try to remember that nothing is going to happen there and do I really need to lead my heart on again? Then again, it's better than thinking about anyone else. How much do I really like him and how much do I just need a distraction? I suppose the motivation doesn't matter as long as it stays in the phase that it's in. And I'm happier these days. And damnit, that's got to count for something.

I feel restless and wistful. I laugh and punch him on the arm. My heart jumps four paces to the left. It's an optical illusion. Keep your eye on the hat and you won't notice where he pulled the bunny from. It's all about distraction and illusion and slight of hands. The woman wasn't really sawed in half, but it's better to believe that she was. Makes for a better show.

When personality is scar tissue
It travels south with disuse
I'm subtle like a lion's cage
Such a cautious display
Remember take hold of your time here
Give some meanings to the means
To your end
-Interpol

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I don't like it when I end entries like this. So here's some baby pandas to enjoy. They're so my new mascot for MY LIFE. I've been looking at panda pictures since my dream the other night with Kristen in it, and it has not failed to make my heart go all squishy with the cute. Almost as good as a smoke break. Almost.