Apologia Pro Vita Suae

[poliphilo]

I wanted to know the secret so I became a priest. I found out that the secret was a casket full of air. Perfumed air. So I became another sort of a priest. Always a priest. Always surrounded by an aura of benevolence and wisdom- hiding in the cloud.

Wisdom was my junk food, was my junk. I dispensed it with gracious hands. "Here, my dear, have some junk. The secret is there is no secret." "Thank you, your endearing holiness."

Carnival time.

Working as that other sort of priest, I prayed for Understanding. Yes, I knew what I was doing; I was praying to Binah, the Great Cunt in the Sky, Mrs Womb-Tomb-Doom, Creator and Destroyer. Undo me if you must but just let me KNOW.

And then, rattle-bang-flop- out the funhouse door. No more distorting mirrors, no more scary clowns, no more dancing skellibobs.

Oh look. Just look at the....

Comments

[beentothemoon.livejournal.com]

That was amazing, you're so thoroughly like my friend Michael that I'm not sure you're not his twin. he had a journal too [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] It's my destiny to find one of you. But the question is, what do I do once I find one?

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

Of course I've just been to look at Nasrudin's LJ. What a pity he stopped posting. I particularly like something he had to say about the nature of words. I wanted to leave comments, but I guess there's no point.