Thursday, December 06, 2007

King Ghidorah's Last Known Photograph: Whereabouts Unknown

It's coming up on ten in the morning, although it feels much later, as I've been up since 4am. The five milligrams of lorazepam I took at 11pm last night certainly went to work and did what I hope every pill, drink and toke will do; get me the fuck away from me. But a nightmare awoke me early, a nasty dream that benefited from feeling as if it really happened. Here's how it went down, in italics.

After attending a Red Sox game, and probably sitting in the bleachers (I get screwed on tickets even in my imagination), I was walking over the Massachusetts Avenue Bridge towards Kenmore Square. Clare, Melanie, Donna and my beloved Linda were all with me. Linda and I were holding hands, and everyone else was to her right. It's worth mentioning that I was wearing a very flattering Alan Ladd trenchcoat, so in my incubus I must have lost some weight. Right now, a trenchcoat makes me look even rounder than I already am. Imagine a medicine ball hiding behind a curtain. Anyway, a non-sequitur follows here, as happens in dreams often. Someone attacked us with a burnished knife, all agleam, and Linda was in his sights. I'm very brave in my dreams, so I knocked him down and ended up with a knife in my paunch. Linda was hysterical, and Clare and Melanie strangely seemed at peace with my getting impaled...it was a large knife.

That's it. What was most disturbing to me wasn't the cold blast of air on my intestines, or that I somehow got Clare and Melanie to go to a sporting event. Instead, it was crushing guilt over having done something to anger a knife wielding maniac and thus almost getting Linda killed; as I said, he went for her first. And last meal was probably a $4 bottle of water and a $6 hotdog. Oh, the humanity!

I managed to get back to sleep about an hour before I had to walk down to the service station nearby and pick up my much abused '93 Mercury Tracer. I'll spare you the details of that. Feel fortunate for that tiny mercy.

I'd like to thank Apocalypse Cow for his comments after my last entry. Everything he says is true, and it reduces my sense of urgency about having to write an entry about atheism. It's something I feel rather strongly about. Atheists get knocked around quite a bit, but that's ok with people because (apparently) any belief is better than none at all. But we atheists are stone-cold undeniably right, and AC does a good job of succinctly explaining why. I'm not going to be ashamed because I do not believe in a Bronze Age sky king who acts like a retarded psychopath as He inconsistently gets involved, and then doesn't get involved, in human affairs. If god does exist, he's a total douchebag, and not a good inspiration for us humans. King Ghidorah died for your sins!

Anyway, enough of that for now. But more on it later, especially as the likes of Mitt Romney, Mike Huckabee and Joe Lieberman, a group of men I wouldn't trust to clean my tub, passionately try to make the case that if it weren't for religion we'd all be masturbating in caves and eating our young. Cue the calliope music.

1 comment:

clare said...

Hey--we do go to sporting events on occasion. Especially Maine Roller Derby. Admittedly, roller derby is the only sporting event I've attended in the past... 7 years or so. Which I think says a lot about roller derby.

You're right that it would take a force of nature to get *me* into a baseball game. You may be able to convince Melanie, though. And, with her mad Aikido skills, she may be able to fend off potential knife-wielding crazies, to boot.