RevPete's blog: "Shaaazaaam!"

The haze of swirling smoke surrounds me and my laptop as I log into the the otherworld... ready to interract with fukin and family, another way to reach out and interract with social distancing... Hell, I've been social distancing my whole life, the frog on the table blurps, the cat meows, and the elf that looks like ALF smiles, ready to eat the cat. 

The jinn are favorable today.  I feel it in my vibes... 

This is not your typical Rev.... Existentialism is a primary source of fertile ground for me.... Good, bad and the ugly. 

Dwarf swirls and cosmic snoopy sets in. 

Random shit... Another Random Day. 

Relief from the standard monotony of the washers and dryers swriling around in circles, providing the standard clunkity clunk clunk sounds from the laundry room, relief from the TV God of advertisements and the political pulpit pounding of the patriarchal state.

Look through the glass darkly, beyond the realm of phsical consciousness, 

The tie is a reverse noose, 

Suits are Straight jackets, 

and the Saints are Aints, with one less problem. 

Reaching through the glaze of smoke, I take a sip of coffee, enjoying the fact of a roof and chair to sit in and a warm bed.  It didn't always used to be this way. 

Fuck.

Worried whether I'd take a travel down the rabbit tunnel on the yellow brick road, and wind up on the sidewalk. That used to be life.  Now I'm stabily living with a roof over my head. 

The vertigo kicks in, I lay on my bed and gaze at the ceiling... 

I can't deny it.. No matter how I've tried no matter what I've done, spirituality plays a part in my life... Recovery, and the other sides of religious straight jackets, the men in black come to altercate your reality, to picturize you and make you blank. 

Nobody wants that, 

People feel like an insane asylum when they get herded into pews, inverted crosses or not. 

People play it cool here, 

but when life goes trauma ER when there's no place to go, and reality aside from the delusion kicks in an upside down world of a cigar smoking kermit the frog, reciting the alphabet backwards, 

where do you go? 

But people don't want the straight jackets and reverse nooses, to loose their vibes. 

Strip Clubs are a haven for my. My chapels, my communion off the tits of a dancer, 

a haze of smoke filling the room and club music in the background, 

dark lights flickering... 

this is my world of where I sit, 

this is my chapel.  My environment, my release. 

Sam Adams is a friend, 211 is a friend, Carona is not a virus but a beer. 

People don't want sticks shoved up their asses to walk with a limp awkwardly stumbling down the isles to sit awkwardly in the pews, 

so as a Rev, I provide the alternative. 

Strip clubs and bars, and a solace that people can be real with their existential ALF and Kermit the frog they can see their dwarfs and Lepracons and their pot of gold,, not having to act holier than thou.  

Over the standard day to day activity things go well, 

but when the damn angels get into place. When they want to get all severe and destroy sodom and gomorrah, the time for opposition is at hand. 

chill...