Dec 2015
i grew up in an evangelical home in the burbs. i now like to think of this brand of belief in christian doctrine as the sorta "star but humble upstart" ---- a shy new jesus on the block. not very showy with ritual. not too brimstone-y with rules. but nevertheless it is terribly aggressive and convincing in its apparent passivity, summoning up a tactical confusion in the believer that petrified the will before it had a chance to bloom and raked in the imagination before it could body forth an inner-whorl.
the evangelical brand leads with a hidden, veiled threat of eternal damnation best served cold with kind eyes. these eyes, they grow mouths inside them to speak to you the truth as they see it. it assumes your consent already. it rips initiative from the realm of possibility. it rents you a god, a "real living god" amid a scarcity of eternal life. you are sold. you must be. it trains a deep, serene dispassion that enslaves any shred of emotionality. it grips ****** life-affirmation with thousands and thousands of self-induced mental strokes against the backside, moving into position various leather tentacles tipped with acute tapered bones that seek out, lick, dig and pull up a guilt that beats subcutaneous, stuck to the very core center of the hard white tissue holding up humanity itself. you are fallen now because of before, or so it goes. it is the worst kind of violence. it steals who you are and gives you back a cheap copy that tells or suggests you hate, with a vengeful love of course, these original pieces of you that keep cropping up, keep emerging through nice smooth paved suburban sidewalks, still wanting, still desiring -- new words worming through old written ones.
it starts with a lack, and it wants to color you in. "you are not good enough" it sez. "you need something" it warmly alleges. "don't resist, let him in" it condescends with a grin reaching for the ear. it is a vamp asking for permission to eat your heart out with fork and knife, only to replace it with himself - all as you watch the procedure. it loves you to death.
tell it *******, kindly. then shut the door.
the evangelical brand leads with a hidden, veiled threat of eternal damnation best served cold with kind eyes. these eyes, they grow mouths inside them to speak to you the truth as they see it. it assumes your consent already. it rips initiative from the realm of possibility. it rents you a god, a "real living god" amid a scarcity of eternal life. you are sold. you must be. it trains a deep, serene dispassion that enslaves any shred of emotionality. it grips ****** life-affirmation with thousands and thousands of self-induced mental strokes against the backside, moving into position various leather tentacles tipped with acute tapered bones that seek out, lick, dig and pull up a guilt that beats subcutaneous, stuck to the very core center of the hard white tissue holding up humanity itself. you are fallen now because of before, or so it goes. it is the worst kind of violence. it steals who you are and gives you back a cheap copy that tells or suggests you hate, with a vengeful love of course, these original pieces of you that keep cropping up, keep emerging through nice smooth paved suburban sidewalks, still wanting, still desiring -- new words worming through old written ones.
it starts with a lack, and it wants to color you in. "you are not good enough" it sez. "you need something" it warmly alleges. "don't resist, let him in" it condescends with a grin reaching for the ear. it is a vamp asking for permission to eat your heart out with fork and knife, only to replace it with himself - all as you watch the procedure. it loves you to death.
tell it *******, kindly. then shut the door.
dm micklow
