Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Cut The Bs. Took Her To Church.

Yeah, that didn’t go as planned. I think I traumatized several women in the front row and forced the phrase “no homo” out of 2 dozen guys. Which by the way, I fucking hate the term “no homo”. If you use it, try wrapping your brain around something a little less insecure. Heterosexuals… we say the dumbest shit sometimes. K, I’m back, but seriously I think I’ve done mental harm to these people. I intended to take off my shirt while performing Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” at the Prof show last Friday, but kinda went with the flow and took my pants off as well. No worries, I planned on this. Wore an extra pair of underwear, so nothing flies out the boxers. Now THAT, would create an widespread fear of ever attending a show I have something to do with. Matter of fact, if something had flown out of those boxers (actually if anything had flown out of my boxers), people would be downright susceptible to leave a venue even if I was in the crowd, for fear that I might take stage and whip it out again thus sending young and middle aged minds into another downward spiral of disgust & disdain. Not that enough people don't already harbor that for me, there’s always better ways to do more damage.

And I’m glad Teresa didn’t make it to the show. Don’t wanna taint her already fragile mind and perspective on the way things are. Teresa’s cool people, but there’s always somethin’ behind that smile. I don’t know if after every time we bid adieu, I’ll ever see her again, or we’ll be back on the same page tomorrow.

If I mutter or even reference “white people” in our conversation, she checks out. Thinks I’m always taking stabs at her faith, the fact “I just want Jesus” is in her fbook bio, about me, or somewhere around there. She counters with a soft race joke, I tell her she’ll have to do better than that, and we’re back on to Teresa & Toussaint. For once though, I’d like to cut the bullshit. I made a bet with myself that Teresa and I could hang out for 60 minutes without one sarcastic remark. I knew it’d be damn near impossible, seeing as I’m gullible, overly curious, and always in a state of analyzing. I make the bull’s eye bigger than needs be for her to dart.

So, I decided to take her to church. Easy, right? Not so much. First off, I’m not the most religious guy in the world. If there were a set of life rules in front of me, I’d use’em for toilet paper. Fran always gave me rules, and I’d break’em just because she gave’em to me. Same with school, my mom, not nowadays though. Second hurdle in the way, my family’s catholic. The only church I know of is catholic. I’d feel way f----n weird to waltz into a giant Lutheran church, white people everywhere, smiling, staring at you if you don’t smile with’em. Been there, didn’t smile though.

Last hurdle, I’ve never taken a gal to church. It’s not like that with Teresa, strictly platonic, but just out of sheer curiosity, taking her to church had to happen. And… it worked. She usually goes to college churches, Baptist churches, singing-out-loud-with-it shoutin’ churches. I’m down with that, but I like St. Cecilia’s in St. Paul just off Raymond. Again, I wouldn’t call myself Christian, Catholic, or religious for that matter… more so spiritual. There’s a lot out there, and the second I start acting like I have a grasp on it will be the moment I stand for people murmuring “no homo” within hearing distance. But, end goal accomplished. A few times she looked at me waiting to say some snide shit or waiting for me to say some snide shit, but I resisted the temptation.

And for me, at this point in my life, that’s what church is for:, solace, sanctuary, time to cut the bullshit and be grateful for your own mortality, life, and people around you.

Now, sitting in Arkham Café (aka Spyhouse on Henneppin), watching Slug get into his Yukon and Ant jump in his black American-made car, snow falling, just having placed the Maria Isa & Cecil Otter presale tix at 5th Element, not a chance in hell I could do it on my own. Whenever Teresa and I finish hanging out, she runs off to more church activity, and I run into opposite direction to partake in non-church activity;)  More than that being the difference, perhaps it’s just she’s accepted she can’t do it all on her own either. Places her faith in a higher power, cosmic significant other, an imaginary friend, whatever you want to down or up play it as, I think it’s humble to do so. Humble to accept you won’t ever be able to do this on your own.

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