Anyman Returns

After my last post disappeared in cyberspace and after a week of hard work, I return to search for an opportunity to regain my sanity. My last post was simply a reflection on Independence Day, the Star-Spangled Banner, America's and mankind affinities, and the notion patriotism in general. I refuse to attempt to recreate all those thoughts, and this is not the first time I have recorded several articulations only to have them lost forever in an abrupt and discouraging manner. This has most likely contributed to my absence from writing as well; however, these midsummer rants are somewhat therapeutic, and thus I will take advantage of this opportunity afforded me by my employers.

Well, my summer drones on, and the monotony has shoved me into a sort of melancholy. I seem to have grown tired of and conflicted with my home, with overwhelming desires to leave and not return. I've become slightly disenchanted with my family, embodying the Christian ideal of separation in order to fully engulf one's self in following. In Luke 14:26 Jesus states that "If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple," according to King James. So much for love, I guess. Perhaps I've just reached a point in my life where I no longer desire the home my parents have made and wish to make one of my own. My only obstacle is money. My mother asked me why I don't like her anymore and treat her condescendingly like she doesn't exist. I don't know exactly why she posed this question; I suppose my apathy to her persistent attempts to make small talk with me insulted her. My opinion of her and her principles and ideals isn't exactly pristine as she has a skewed perception of truth and an extreme political perspective that interferes with her human relationships, including those with her family. She is by far the most conservative person of our kin, especially relative to her own siblings. I sympathize with the tragedies she has suffered during her life, including burying a child, miscarrying two others, and losing both parents at a relatively young age. I believe no greater there is no greater loss than one's own child, and although I should be thankful because I never would have existed without my brother Bentley's death, I don't believe my mother is free from fault as she so commonly declares herself. Many times I wish Bentley had lived in my place. Some times I've dedicated my life to him. It rarely lasts. I get caught up in vanity. It's hard to consistently live for the dead. I guess it's a paradox. I often remind myself of Bentley's passing to help myself cope with my mom's extreme and self-righteous behavior, but every time it gets harder. The tragedy of watching your own children pass away is what give Christianity such weight, in my opinion. The common perception of the religion is that Jesus' died to save humankind from sin. Who wouldn't? I understand there are people who are completely selfish, but to spend one unimaginably grueling day on the cross for all the hallelujahs of eternity is the easiest decision in the history of cost-benefit analysis. The righteousness belongs entirely to the Christian God, who sacrificed his only Son for the sake of man. It makes God's love very tangible to human beings who are wired to understand the pain of loss. I don't want to discredit Christ, as he introduced a plethora of love to the human race, but he was lucky enough to be chosen to be crucified and thus worshipped from that point forward. I'm not jealous, I just think that the more people you die for, e.g. the entirety of humanity, the less impressive the act is. When someone sacrifices himself or his children for one person, I suppose that is the greatest possible act of love. Bentley died, my father's vasectomy was reveresed, and my brother William and I were born. I'm not sure if I was planned, but I take no offense to being a surprise, a nice euphemism for an accident. Maybe if a child is unwanted, he reciprocates that emotion in his life. Perhaps there is some sort of correlation between unplanned births and crime rates. Stephen Levitt's research in Freakonomics reveals that the decrease in the crime rate can be credited to the ruling of the Roe v. Wade case. I'm not saying that I personally have criminal tendencies, but I do express a fair amount of disdain for this world. Maybe that's normal.

I wrote a poem this morning, so I will close with it:

Ritual

I stand, naked.
My daily baptism
Scours the remnants of
Yesterday's sin.
Instruments and formulas
Attempt to scrub away
Transgressions from this mouth.
A razor, not for suicide, but almost
Scrapes a day's proof that
I am human, animal.
Songs like prayers
Dissipate from transistor minarets
In heterophonic unison
The fasting ends
With this bread
And this cup.
We are lead into temptation
And delivered to evil.
Thought, word, deed
Slide through the drain
Tomorrow.