I do for comedy what Lenny Bruce did for Zen Buddhism
Once again, my day in reverse.
As I was walking from the train station to my apartment, I felt something cool kiss my cheek. Yes, sure enough, it was the rain I'd predicted for today yesterday. I smiled, but a smile wasn't enough. I laughed, out loud (yes, I lol'ed. :P). I was singing, of course, at the time:
"I stood on mountaintops that overlook the world I can't find anything except the joy inside."
Now, if you know the song, you know that joy is supposed to be void. Well, gee. I realized my mistake almost as I said it, and laughed again. It wasn't enough for my rain goddess to visit me; she wanted me thinking about NOTHING BUT HER. Okay, I can dig it. I guess I really do hear her name in songs.
Before that, I spent most of the day thinking about my beliefs. Am I a buddhist? Am I zen? Do I care? And does not caring about labels make me MORE buddhist (it's like coolness or indie cred in that way)? One thing I really do hate is categorization. I know buddhism is like, anti-hate or something, but that's okay. We'll get to why later. I like categorization of things, but not people. Categorization of things makes them manageable. Categorization of people is divisive. I'm mostly talking about organized religion and iconoclasm here. Why is it that I find the (apparently highly-offensive) idea of a better-than hotornot.com site called wjfm.com (would Jesus fuck me—fornication being a big no-no for Catholics, and Jesus, though a Jew, is considered a big-time Catholic) incredibly funny, even when it pisses off loved ones? My best guess is years of pent-up hatred for organized religion. I had a lot of anger as a kid, but I surpressed it. And since you can only supress so much, I found avenues to release it. Some people channel their anger to hate women or themselves, but I, noble and arrogant fuck that I am, turned it to other people. I mean, c'mon, have you ever looked at other people? They are SO stupid.
To this day, I still hate ignorance with a PASSION. Which is why I got so pissed off today when some dude I asked if I could help was like, "Just quit bothering me! You people ask me if I need help every five seconds. You're giving me bad karma!" To which I replied, "Okay, sir. You know where to find me if you have any questions." And he: "Just go away. I'm trying to find some good karma here." So am I. I get my karma by helping people out. You're not going to accrue much by being snippy. But I didn't say that. I am not the Buddha. No witty quips from me. So I said, "Yeah, good luck with that," very sincerely. He needs all the good karma he can get, that crotchety old fuck. Good thing I don't believe in karma. That's an institutionalized idea; property of organized religion. I will only say I'm buddhist if it gets people to shut up. NO, I DON'T WANT ANY FUCKING PAMPHLETS. I HATE YOUR GOD.
I get very nihilistic whenever I start to feel centered. Why? Well, when I am centered and balanced, I can see motivations and interactions more so than people. People become transparent. Transparent, intangible. Intangible, insignificant. Then I start to get condescending. Because I, MASTER PSYCHOLOGIST, can see your thoughts like I was from New Skool Trantor (Second Foundation SIIIIIIIDE), y0. You are nothing but a simple I/O box to me. This is where the Buddhist anti-hate thing comes in. Because, no, I'm not a good buddhist, then. Which is great; it means my thinking is not being controlled/limited by the teachings of buddhist religion. I have not sold out to an organized religion. But I don't like being like this too long; I can't interact with people, and I like interacting with people. I once turned a fraction of my psychoanalytic "powers" on a girl at a party, and she almost curled up into a ball. She still agreed to go out with me, so it was cool. But I'm very wary of that kind of thing. People don't like being laid bare like that. I try to stay assertive; not aggressive. And I realize this, and it helps keep me balanced and in check. I know I hate, and I know why I hate. That has to count for something, right?
But it's interesting; it got me thinking about matters. One of my coworkers gets me to read his tarot almost every day (using the Osho Zen Tarot, of course). Today, he had me read a friend's. And I've read for some of my other coworkers. And after two weeks, it looks like I'm a virtuoso. I always kind of wondered if I had shaman blood in me from my Seminole/5 tribes/etc. heritage. I am a healer, I realize that. I am adept at diagnosis; they used to think I was a hypochondriac until it turned out I was right almost every single time). I am fantastic at fixing things, even situations; I heal things. I am a good listener, and I help people with their problems; I heal them mentally (or help them heal themselves, rather). Good thing I don't believe in herbal medicine. I still haven't sold out to any one philosophy/way of life. And I feel a higher spirituality; a connectedness with all things, and a love.
I feel like a priest without a religion. But I have friends instead of followers. I don't need followers. You cannot lead another down the path. Sometimes you can kick him in the ass if he stops walking, though. ;)
Before all that, well, there wasn't much. I thought about that all day; ever since I was on the train with the cute girl with the inwardly turned feet who reminded me of the girl at the party who stood that way because she was shy, and possibly lacking in self-confidence, though without reason. Yes, that's, roughly paraphrased, what I said to the girl at the party. Then I stopped when I saw what it had done to her. And that was nothing; that was obvious to anyone. But I did think about things, like how I neglected to mention Chrissy on the list with Michelle and Becca.
I woke up this morning without the aid of an alarm, and got some work done, for a change. I actually missed Michelle going to sleep by like, an hour. Darn. And, finally, last night, I had a dream involving the Ghostbusters; or rather, some of my friends and me ghostbusting. Or politicianbusting. I seem to remember Bob Dole being sucked into a trap. Joe, you were there, and so was Katy, and some people who are now fuzzy.