yacob (yacob) wrote in salmon,

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Ladies and gentlemen, do not be alarmed. What you are about to see is real. The

Well, the past two days (Saturday and Sunday) have been rather successful. On Sat. Night
I slipped down to Crows house where we jammed a bit on electric guitar and drums. I
tried to sing above the noise, but, alas, my voice could not be heard above the din. We
mainly did a few songs by They Might Be Giants, Weezer, and some original stuff too.
As soon as I finished breakfast the following morning, I proceeded into the drum room
and played my acoustic guitar a bit while singing. I thought I might have an audience in
the adjacent room, but Crow was showering and his mother had temporarily disappeared
to some faraway galaxy. Then I played my guitar and sang in Crows room for a bit, while
he pretended to sleep with his eyes open. Then came the magical escapade to the place
known as East Pointe (Pointy!) Baptist (Fascist) Church. This is the place where Crow is
forced to traverse to on the first day of every week, and, sadly, I to had to make that
pilgrimmage as well. The entire time I was in the church, I kept but two things in my
head: See no, hear no, speak no. and Just try not to get lynched. So we went to the
preppy school of the Day of the Sun and sat through some people telling us to go
prostelyze and ignore the personal religious beliefs of others. Then we went to the
Sermon. The title of the sermon was Altars Aflame-Hearts Aflame. Need I say more?
The pastor begged us to turn away from our television sets and computers and internets,
and to go to the eternal almighty allholy omnipotent powerful big fat one and only true so
screw your religions GOD. It took one of the sheets from somewhere and wrote this on it:
Do yoo mind if I philosophize and blaspheme a bit?
I then handed it to Crow, who wrote:
Please do.
This is what I wrote, and Crow said he wholeheartedly agreed with me:
I do in fact believe in God/gods, but one so different so as not to be recognizable as the
typical God. My god is not in some faraway dimension, in the sky, or even in this
building. My god is outside, in the place where life is. My god is life. In my personal
religion, there is nothing to be saved from. Good and evil are controlled by the gods,
neither is better than the other, and they are in balance. If there is an afterlife, I believe
that it is not much different from life. People who want to make it Hell will make it Hell
for themselves. People who want to make it heaven will make it heaven. Doubt still exists
in the afterlife, and it has its own relevant religions too. Be not moral, be good. Live and
let live.
I also drew a picture of a platypus with a halo, a robe, and glowing eyes and wrote
underneath it Why should God look like a man?
I did all of this in a Baptist church, mind you. While the sermon was going on.
Am I Satan?
Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?
My god has not forsaken me, and neither has yours.
Then we went back to Crows house and listened to They Might Be Giants and played
some electric guitar and then went to Arbys and saw Preston and...and...
I would like to perform. Crows drum skills, piano skills, and vocal skills have gotten
much better since last I saw him. Sean has the uncanny ability to improvise a bass melody
for any tune, and Michael....Michael....well find something for him to do. He can sing
back-up. If we ever get a gig, our show will most likely consist of covers of They Might
Be Giants, Weezer, R.E.M., Radiohead, and several original songs that would be highly
offensive to anyone who is not a Satanist or an earwig. Actually, Satanists probably
wouldnt like them either. Well, chow everybody. I wanna get a t-shirt that says Kill
Rock Stars.
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