Saturday, October 13, 2018

11,233. RUDIMENTS, pt. 469

RUDIMENTS, pt. 469
(doing good time)
So, as it went, believe
me, I never wished to 
hurt or offend anyone, 
but damn if people 
didn't bug and annoy 
me sometimes to no
end. It's a difficult pass,
crossing the divide of
how to deal with all of
that. Mostly it's one-trick 
pony stuff, the same
game gone over and 
over. Your average, 
pesky psychotic wants 
to hold all the cards and 
control the board, at the
same time demanding
(and proclaiming) fairness 
and equanimity. Yet, in
any way you respond, 
you're already sunk.
It still goes on, and it
only makes me feel 
really bad, because I 
do feel that I should 
help my fellows and
brethren whenever 
I can... and I do,
and I have 
-
Even today, I face 
problems over things.
It's slowly turning cold
out again, and I still have
someone coming to my
door to be asked in 
because they're cold, 
or have nothing to
eat. In the Summer
days, this is OK, and 
has gone on for two 
years already. I grow 
tired, I grow weary, yet 
it  -  the same stupid 
small talk, local issues 
of no interest to me, 
unending catalogues 
of information about 
other people, rents, 
foods, habits  -  occurs.
I am not here as part of 
the local nag-library.
I have no interest. Yet, 
upon turning this person
away, I am pained. But
no, with the weather and
turn of season bringing a
chill, it has to come indoors
or not at all. I voted for the
latter, and said so.
-
What is all this useless 
crap? Where did it come 
from?  Is there no over-mind 
to this crummy town that 
could take this matter over:
Jesus, lady, find a hobby, 
go read a book, find house
place to live at. I'm not
your keeper.
-
The conflict is that we're
brought up to somehow 
learn  that self-interest 
is a bad thing, a tawdry 
act. It's a actually all
the opposite. And I don't
care the repercussions. It
was when I lived in northern
Pennsylvania that I saw 
this firsthand. The Minister 
out in those parts was this 
small, Bible-toting guy, 
happy, twinkly, Irish I guess, 
whatever, named Wallace 
McKnight. The church itself 
was one of those country, 
white, clapboard Baptist 
places, with a spire and a 
gravel lot for maybe 10
cars. He ran it like the
occasional local civic 
center, with God attached, 
and when it wasn't underway 
like that, it was simply 
closed up and shuttered. 
Two or three hours on a
Sunday was often about 
it for the place. Most of his 
commitment time was
to the local ladies, and kids.
There was no difference, 
as he treated all 'religion' 
with the deference you give 
to kids' interests, with tales 
and rabbit stories of morals 
and fables. I always felt that
when religion itself gets
watered down to that extent,
as he most certainly had done,
it becomes next to useless,
devoid of any psychological 
content, and bereft of logic
and learning. Why bother,
and what's the use? Wallace
McKnight would occasionally
have one or two 'African'
missionaries in, for talk and
lectures teas, pies and cakes,
and socials. 'They' weren't 
African, no; they were 
simple white missionaries 
who ended up treating 
their 'African' and jungle
ministrations in (I felt) a
very racist way, as monkey 
inferiors who frantically
needed Salvation  -  which 
meant white values, mores, 
and beliefs. It all stank of
a bad-old Hollywood film.
The entire, good-old puppy
dog Jesus routine, loving 
others, doing good, and
showing a complete 
compassion for those 
ungodly natives and
their ritual campfires
and shamans. It made
no sense, and these 
import-Christians really 
angered me. Like the
traipsing neighborhood
Jehovahs, in their cheap
flash suits, preening to
look like businessmen
to preach the Word. I
wonder what's up with
any of that too.
-
I never had any dealings 
with this Wallace guy, 
never went to his church 
stuff either, but he'd come 
around, as part of his 
Ministry, to sprinkle his
wit and bother each farmer
while working, each 
country household, and
each far-flung trailer in
the woods. Most all of
the farmers just laughed
him off as something of a
simpleton, though he
usually managed a lunch
and some time with the 
ladies. His preaching of
good works and kindness,
yes, I try and remember
that now, thinking of only
the positive things, of value
and worth. But, it never
works, and I come away
bereft. It all make a person
hate his own skin for being
skin, like a shadow that bugs
you by following you around.
No one ever wanted to hurt
this guy's feelings, so it
all just went on and on. 





No comments: