Sunday Morning Coming Down

That's the title of an old Kris Kristofferson/Johnny Cash song about being alone and stoned on a Sunday morning. I'm neither alone nor stoned but the title kinda fit, perhaps it's more of a Sunday Morning Getting Me Down. Here's the crux of it, or rub if your feeling Shakespearean, I don't want to go to the church we've been going to for several years now anymore but I'm alone in my feelings. I'd like to go to the Episcopal church but my family doesn't want to go there. We've talked of going Methodist (we go to a very conservative southern baptist church now) but Araine is afraid we'll all start going there and then I'll be dissatisfied and want to move on again. Not an ungrounded fear. So a few weeks back I went to one church while Rainey and the boys went to the other, that was not a pleasant feeling. Neither one of us liked it, although I did enjoy the service at the Episcopal church. So each week I'm facing the same dilemma do I go where I want alone (my daughter may would go with me) or do I go where I don't like to be with my family. This week we all just stayed home, which is fine by me for the most part but I grew up going to church and it feels strange not to be going somewhere on at least a semi-regular schedule.

Whatever...

I wrote a pretty lengthy blog sharing my two cents on the whole fast food against gays fight going on and then deleted it with aplomb. Because I realized what really got on my nerves the last week or so wasn't the issues being discussed but that everyone seemed to be posting about it, over and over again. It was enough to make me regret having a facebook page. So I've discussed my views with my best friends and those of you who really know me can prob. guess them anyway.  This whole thing reminded me of one of the funny quotes I'd seen recently that read- I use to want to be able to read peoples minds, then I got a facebook page and I got over it.

Blowing things up (metaphorically of course).

I recently finished reading Still Life With Woodpecker by Tom Robbins an absurdest classic (or to-be-classic as the case may be). The description on the book jacket calls it- "A sort of a love story that takes place inside a pack of Camel cigarettes. It reveals the purpose of the moon, explains the difference between criminals and outlaws, examines the conflict between social activism and romantic individualism, and paints a portrait of contemporary society that includes powerful Arabs, exiled royalty, and pregnant cheerleaders. It also deals with the problem of redheads", and that about sums it up. It's like poetry, I mean it doesn't rhyme or anything but it has a fascinating flow to it, perhaps it's on a lunar cycle. The Woodpecker is the chosen name of a redheaded outlaw bomber who makes blowing things up seem not only reasonable but downright necessary. He and a deposed redheaded princess fall madly into something like love and are determined to find a way to make it stay. The part about the difference between activism and individualism I found particularly interesting, all great causes (and I would add religions and philosophies as well) are started by individuals, people with ideas and gumption but as they become causes and institutions they become choked with average, unimaginative people who are jumping on to someone else's band wagon. Well that's not exactly the way the Woodpecker put it but that's what I walked away with. Now the blowing shit up (metaphorically speaking) is the main thing I brought from my trip through Mr. Robbins mind, they're lots of things in my life I let build up or that I build up into 'important' things that need to be blown away like so much brick and mortar. Before you rush out and buy this fantastically bizarre book let me caution that there is a good deal of adult language, sexual situations, drug use and typewriter abuse. Otherwise happy reading.