How would I know what my aim was, and if I achieved it? I just wanted to sound Camus-ish. You know. Short sentences. It wasn’t the content, it was the length of sentences I focused on. Take this for example: My wounds. They throb. I reach the orgasm of belief… it is too much, so much that stigmata is reached. I am too full. I am spinning. My sentences are long, rambling, mostly stupid and senseless. Mostly non-thematic.
It doesn’t even have a title. That’s what I like about it. I feel very detached from it. I wrote it like I was hypnotized, I swear it. Strange. I’m not as religious as I would like to be (though I extremely enjoy the poetry and mistakes of different religions other than and especially of my own, respectively), so it can’t be sacreligious.
Religion, after all, has always been something personal to me. I think that God, or whatever/whoever/whichever it is that you consider to be God, is something very personal. Like your favorite, most comfortable pair of blue jeans. I also believe that your God adjusts to you, and not the other way around. That you’re alike in so many ways. But that’s it… religion is personal, not mass-produced/induced. It’s just a good metaphor. Sometimes, that’s the best thing.
On a lighter note.
On Spongebob Square Pants today:
Squidword to Spongebob: Your prediction for today: deja vu. A weird feeling that something has already happened before. Oh, and another predication for today: deja vu. A weird feeling that something has already happened before…
