The ongoing story of Jesus waking up in Chicago, in the body of an agnostic writer,
who is nothing like the Son of God the right-wing Christians watching him expected.

You are welcome to share my work with a link bank... keep getting asked this...

Last time I was here, I told them I would not lead a revolution, that I was there to spread heresy. The crowds thinned. The day they killed me, I marched alone... This time I have returned to find Romes Soldiers Sleeping, content they have killed off the Troublesome Jew. I was surprised how bloody the Indiana boy became as my sword fell again and again ....

In the years since this story began in 2007, my secret fame has spread out from the halls of power that kept me secret all these years, as they waited for the Christ to finally wake up...

I try to imagine their anticipation.

Remember a dream I had in my twenties about running thru Chicago screaming that Christ was coming back, and man oh man was I happy... a cloud came through the middle of the skyscrapers above me, in the thin strip of blue above Dowtown State street, and I expected to see Christ... instead, just a bunch of musicians painted up like Ziggy stardust.

I surprised my keepers. They thought they had me figured out from the Bible. If that book could have told you everything, there would be no need at all for me.

Jesus: "I have become Known across this planet as a dangerous man with a growing force of hidden followers who value my orders more than life itself. A prophet of war. Once and future King in a court of shadows. Life and death in my hands every damn day. I ROAR, your most mighty shit themselves and run. I make myself a known threat, so I can try to negotiate what otherwise requires bullets and blood. I am here to free the enslaved in body and mind. I cannot be defeated. When the Will of God and The WILL OF THE PEOPLE ARE ONE, NO FORCE ON EARTH CAN STOP US!"


We come into this life expecting too much and leave expecting too little

Friday, April 15, 2005

Sure, I too wish I was a serial killer....

I often wish I was a psycho, of course. There is a part of me that would like to have no compunction about killing -- hopefully, I would be some sort of righteous batman. Unfortunately, I am more Charlie Brown than Charles Bronson, and the only Death Wish I have is pretty much spent on worthless moping and whining around my blog.

But no... I am too lazy to kill massah jackoffyourson or any of his helpers.... the money worshipers who circled the wagon around this freak deserve burning arrows in their eyes, too...

But, like Socrates before me, I abide by the laws of my society... Because, sadly enough, I am not a religious psycho killer. I'm not sure what my parents did right (we never talked about that in therapy, because of that thing where the therapist gets you to dislike your parents so you will bond with them, something they have all too scarily in common with cults).

Does this mean that for some reason I like killing? No. Never could stomach faces of death, howl like a monkey until I can change the channel when some horrible parental beasts crimes are blathered out on the nightly news bulletins. Still, I am Johnny Pain, no denying it. A guy who loves the idea of kicking ass, a fifteen year cab driver with muscles and boxing and lots of street fighting behind my punch first policy (which has held me in good steed over the years, though I recognize the stupidity of it and consider it a side of me best repressed).

Funny thing, is the novel I am writing, the violence is anything but funny. It is the true grotesquery of the book -- as it is in my first, One War, which some brilliant person is going to buy one day and get the privilege of selling all my other work. Or, not.... poverty may just be something that helps my work for all I know, though I have my doubts.

so there, to anyone who thinks this is the psycho killer shit list, and that I will be killing all who I name... well, if you are one of those people, I hope the thought makes your life a living hell, actually, but you ain't worth the prison time of anyone (with the exception of religious psycho killers, who actually often get married while in prison... to chicks who write in, other inmates... you know what ever god tells you to do.... I'm just saying)

I was once actually thrown out of school for inciting a riot. I painted this sign, like fifty feet by five feet, in all these cool colors and different types, reading,
PENTA COUNTRY STONERS NEVER LOSE THEIR BUZZ. Penta County was a school I mistakenly went to for a year or so before my back surgeries started.

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