I promised my mom I would attend church with her and my step dad. I should feel guilty due to my lack of faith but it makes mom happy so that’s really all that matters. When we promise someone we’ll go all we’re saying is that we’ll show up. We didn’t promise to pay attention or even participate. Shit, sometime the only reason some people go is due to insane pressure from someone else.
Our church is held in the basement of a gym that once was a church. Seems kinda funny when you walk in and see gym equipment where pews used to be. I wonder if they have communion? Instead of wafers and grape juice they offer steroids and muscle milk. Makes the workout that much harder when someone is screaming; “Jesus was nailed to a cross and died but you can’t do five more minutes on a treadmill?!”
This is a painting above the door the basement. I have no idea what it’s supposed to represent but it’s creepy as shit. Who the hell painted this and why? Why is she gray? If this is supposed to motivate you I would like to know how.
Finally I get in there and grab my donut and coffee and really psyche myself up. I know that for some people this is go time for true enlightenment or some sort of message from God but for me it’s a chance for my mind to wander and truly focus on the message and concentrate but it’s hard. Everyone is singing off key and really sucked into the vortex bof God except me. The vortex of God is where the magic happens yet I can’t find it.
I am determined to focus this time. No bullshit distracting me. I refuse to think about the chick with the funky toes or the chick behind me that always smiles at me as if she’s just envisioned me naked or something. How the hell do you not think? How do you keep random shit from popping up in your head?
I of course can’t do it so I load up Amazon and look up some Edward Lee. I figure while everyone else is singing and imagining a perfect world where Jesus is spreading love like a hippy I may as well do something productive. Splatterpunk book shopping just feels right.
I suddenly get the worst or maybe the most awesome idea ever. There’s this woman I like so I figure I’d send her some naughty texts. Yeah, I realize where I am but it’s not like I took her into the confessional booth for a little slap and tickle. These are harmless texts asking simple questions like what are you wearing?
As the preacher begins speaking I begin to think about something he just said. We want to get closer to God. What better way to get closer to God than through sex. If done correctly you can have a woman speaking in tongues or quit possibly seeing visions of all sorts of shit. You know your good in bed when you can make a woman speak in a language that doesn’t exist.
We all want that holy and divine experience. We want to feel as if we touched God, or saw a Saint. Some people do drugs to experience that shit while others get it through fucking. I never got real high and saw Jesus and I wonder how many people have. Good sex will make your eyes roll back in your head and hope for an exorcism.
I dwell on the sexting in church and wonder if it’s wrong or somehow blasphemous. Am I supposed to feel guilt or shame? While the people around me are focused on some message from God I’m thinking about sex. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t be the only one who’s done this am I?
Finally It’s all over and I realize that once again I learned nothing. I allowed myself to become distracted and I even mamnaged to download a Jack Ketchum book for my Kindle. Maybe I’m just not cut out for church anymore.