The Faux Pas Press #58
By Jason Fresh
13 October 2010
What, upon this dark, is worth the neighbor’s sanity if mine can not be acknowledged and cherished by the state? Did we make a Jesus out of subsidized loans? And who will make the new one when that Jesus dies? But, but, but…. This ends up being a story where the parents apologize to their children for doing the mambo in a generation of rubber. This ends up being a story where I must choose will and even kill my parents’ ideology, keeping, even rescuing, the mythology that they turned into organized religion. I’m confused because what I don’t get now manifests later. And my parents keep praying for the good to be greater and work the whole nation state into irrevocable havoc. What? How is it that going down for everyone else? Couldn’t I just stop, completely stop focusing on the elements that I dislike, pray (use the energy of my mind, heart, and soul), and banish lack forever from my life? Couldn’t I do that? So, solitude has evolved into a peace, a time everyday to write the evolving journal, The Faux Pas Press, let the world in, and be still. In a moment I travel to the base of Mexican temples, in a moment I see how all pressure is gone, in a moment I can travel the distance of human history. How many revolutions of the Earth? How long before Christians and Jews start burning Muslims on American soil? Tolerance is your joke that I’m smoking, your lie I’ve been stoking. I will live to see our economic problems resolved – even if we lose a few battles. I owe, for one of many, owe nothing to the children of Social Security, owe nothing to the parents of my high school classmates.
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