i’ve got peter gabriel’s “I Don’t Remember” going thru my head this morning . . . and most of yesturday, and the day before. it seems important to some part of my soul which sits with signs and applause everytime it goes thru my head. they like the drive of the artist’s expression of frustration and anxiety which comes thru in a manic crazyness. the song is an example of something that flashes us spiritually . . . maybe unlike a man in a trenchcoat . . . wearing shorts with a tee-shirt . . . flashing us briefly (ow!) as we walk by. the words “believe in god” embelished on his shirt echo on the canvas of the imagination. it doesn’t matter if we turn around, run after him and chide him in his actions. it doesn’t matter if by doing this it puts him in the same alagory as a pervert . . . and by action, god as well. ultimately tho, the tired, worn out god, quietly sitting in a courner, desperatly trying to believe in himself . . . probably wondering how valid this whole soap opera is, and whether or not spiritual flashers help or hurt his cause. now i got one of the songs from “the last temptation of christ” going thru my head . . . soundtrack ala peter gabriel as well. another spiritual flasher . . . who, jesus or peter gabriel? both an arrow pointing at a path to be walked . . . or a voice to listen to . . . or a feeling to behold. the hardest part is opening your heart up to the option. the option to be open. ( . . . maybe it’s god that’s trying to get into a working relationship with us and it’s us that flinch and put it back up on a pedistal.) . . . why pursue it then? the path. you might accidently get superpowers or something . . . start levitating, healing the sick, curing the blind. become an issue . . . to be delt with by turkeys that can’t fly. walk around, wonder when thanksgiving is. wonder if you look like a turkey. if you are a turkey walking around with turkeys talking turkey talk about how great it is to be a turkey . . . waiting for other turkeys to come over and watch turkey friends on turkey tv. and each turkey has the same turkey right to talk turkey to any turkey it wants in a frantic pace with a frantic face . . . then it’s a good turkey day to be a turkey. gobble it up the daily rut. question your life avoid the knife. be not a turkey entwined behind the line of commonality to turkey HQ. after awhile, you fall into the style. you are accepted, people talk to you. and you find flaws in the turkey tune.