TRUE STORY:

WAKING UP JESUS


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!"





WAKING UP JESUS...

WAKING UP JESUS...
We come into this life expecting too much and leave expecting too little

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

I have stopped pretending this site is a fiction in any way... why? The believers know and the doubters will never care... and the irreligious can take it as 'acting.'

     Superman has Clark Kent, Spider Man Peter Parker.... I have Scott Ridgway.  A pot smoking, near atheist who believes in free love and marriage;  a Romantic, as all poets are, who has aged enough to see a lot of that turn into the bitter cynicism that only Romantic's are capable of.  Once you've idealized the world with the lies most tell their Children to shield them from the horrors as long as possible, giving them all those four walls that kept the young Buddha from seeing any suffering until he finally ventured out...  and the shock was enough to make him forsake wealth and starve under a tree for forty days (I just read a study that was very scientific, and found a yogi who took in no water or food for two weeks, with no side effects to his health what-so-ever.  He claims he has not eaten in years, and is drawing energy for life out some source).

Discovering where he and I separate, if we do at all, has proven a puzzle for me.  When I first realized that the world knew I was an angel, and some the Christ, since possibly before my birth and had watched me secretly, telling me none of this, I say that the Believers thought the Christ was writing all of my work in disguise.   Since I was in Scott's unconscious, and a person has only the pea of their consciousness to use to think with, there is either some over-lap, or every word he wrote was really from me, and there is only me.  Scott is an actor.  Yet, he has always fated for a kind of fame he could use politically, and looked at the stage as a battle field -- not as a place for himself to be worship.


My hatred of being worshiped is part of him.   I do not know if this question will interest my readers.  That is the risk you take with this blog -- I will work up the best of this into the second volume of waking up Jesus, but they will be more polished, and in an order that makes narrative sense.  Here, you get the raw stuff.  Going back to where Jesus First Emerged in this blog, you will find there are a bunch of gross comedy stories I wrote prior to being awakening to the Calvary walk.  This is why they do not tell me about who I am until I can handle it, the Angels who come knocking every time, sooner or later, to tell me that I am a prophet, and must write some text, lead a movement, etc... of course every time, this is a wrenching madness, not the fulfillment of some dream of grandeur.   God makes sure that I grow up so humbled that I am always trying to prove something  -- no how cruel were the times.  My bodily suffering means nothing to him, and barely anything to me, really.  I find ways to deal with the 24/7 pain that my bodies through at me.  Kind of like preaching from a cross, after being shot up with morphine.

We bleed together...  Scott and I.   He allows me to write in peace, without the pomposity that would attend my being Pope if I was to go Catholic on you.   I love them, those Catholics, but the robes and the ceremonies and all would be a waste of my valuable time.  A distraction.  A distance from the dirt of the earth that I do not want.  I am a God,  a spirit... having a body is a curiosity to me.   A tiny bit of myself is in this form;  a fraction of what you think of as God has taken a physical form.  Such an event is more important than your minds can comprehend.  I have a very specific mission to accomplish, though the Boss lets me know what I am supposed to do on a Need To Know Basis.  God knows how to keep a secret.

I am sorry I am being so light in here today.   My rage has been apparent on Facebook.  I should of used the name Jesus Christ and ranted in this voice on a site.  Perhaps I will start one that I use just for Jesus... wow, nice idea....  I could fill up all the notes with my best poetry...  I will do this.  Then I will be friends with myself, so they will show up on my other site....

Remember this, please...  violence is the last resort.  Never hit another over words spoken to you in anger.  Escalating a stupid argument over face seems like it will make you feel better if you get to kick the persons ass, but life is not the movie playing in your head.  Even minor violence involves cops, jail, probation, a lot of money... at the very least.   Now, if only I can get myself to remember this....
,

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

except that time i threatened the kids's school counselor, and it worked,,,that was the one time it worked, oh, and when I beat up my first father in law, and when I punched that kid who said I was just a fat old man who was going to get back in the car and shut my mouth or he was going to kick my ass, except for those toimes, violence or the threat of it didnt work..

Bob

scott ridgway said...

Well, I have been known to spite a few assholes in my time... and don't get me started on my psycho dad.