Reaching back to touch the scar, why do I tell people bits and pieces of this story? One about believing in You? about believing in a Higher Power? and how do I begin and write The End when I know it’s a holy depressed mess of anxious thoughts that created all these scars? and how was being born a wo/man my failure? how should this bipolar spirit of two genders move? should I have just popped out *ZEN* from my mother’s womb like my big brother Jesus? One who took all of my sins when I believe(d) that he was the gift of God’s Son?
That don’t seem right. Neither does the grammar in that last sentence, thought it’s not totally wrong. That’s the thing about right and wrong, it’s quite subjective to who caught the wrong inside the right. Sometimes my dear friend Jim tells me about his baseball stories and I have to say, he’s the write catcher. Maybe someday he will tell my story better than I ever could because I make no sense to, plus I’ll be dead and so it’s OK because I loved him as my fear friend. Once upon a time…
Justin make sure to tell the truth about me and don’t leave all the juicy parts out, yeah?
Who knows how this story will end? I have a feeling I’m headed for a heart attack at a young age and I feel pretty damn *ZEN* about that possibility most days. Sure, there are still thousands of drafts to go back and edit with efforts of being a real-live human, but God? WhenEver you want to take this AdamNeve, I’m good. Aliens here, I’ll still be here even when I’m not, I suppose. I just won’t have this same talent to write paragraphs exactly like this One from a California bed as the sun also rises. One more day, here it comes!
My friend Jack may call this morning’s writing shit…is IT? Would love to hear Your thoughts?
p.s. just a tip? grace will win every GRACE, GOD DAMN IT! Love or hate Ya’ that much…so comment away if it pleases You?