Pale Fragments

divine sanction

The truth is, I don't really want to be here. Never really got all the buzz about coming here to Earth—and then one day, I just fuckin' woke up here and I thought, 'Did God roofie me?' That's the last thought I remember having before they put me in a glass tube and told me to shut up. They thought they were going to wipe my memory, these motherfuckin' big Pharma corporations trying to make me believe that I wasn't a completely sentient lifeform immediately out of the womb that remembered exactly what it was like to be a spirit, and that God was getting rather cuddly with me right before I blacked out, and half of my spirit was delighted to finally get some paternal physicality.

So, yes, like you, I remember nothing about how I got here, and I'm making all this up. But think about it, why aren't we more upset about that violation of consent? My parents mortally-raped me (the opposite of mortally raping someone), and their's did the same, and their's and their's. Who to blame? Where to bring our cardboard signs?

My great-grandmother (henceforth "Nan") held me when I was a baby in 1998. I don't remember this. My dad told me that when Nan* was a baby (and I expect that she learned this, too, from hearsay), she was blessed by Lorrin Farr (through the Power and Authority of Jesus Christ, Restored by His Prophet Joseph Smith Jr.) who had touched that Prophet. 

My dad also tells me that Lorrin Farr was Joseph Smith's bodyguard; I'm not sure who told my dad, or who told that person. My dad and mom also told me that Joseph was legit, and that's turned out to be bullshit, so take this as you will.

But anyways, Joseph (allegedly) saw God and Jesus Christ many times throughout his life, and I assume that they touched every now and again, as much as sons and fathers do, motivated by some awkward obligation and unhoped for desire—

Joe got the idea for his cult through the miraculous efforts of misled martyrs whose victim mentality and glass feelings were passed through generations of the families and friends of those who felt greatly inspired during some guy's speech.

That someone was a Jewish man named Jesus of Nazareth, and he was killed by Rome. His modification of his parent's religion was woven into the religions of Rome, who had taken their religion from the Greeks.

This is my genealogical connection to the divine. Caesars had Venus backing them; this is the authority of my words, come straight from the hands of a Child Predator.

Anyways, I'm brainwashed into my own unique cult, it's actually been around forever, my God is the real one, etc., listen to what I have to say. Listen up, pay attention. Listen to me.

*Also of note: Nan was an alcoholic. My dad swears he'll never touch a Coors beer because that's what his violent-alcoholic grandma used to drink. Guess what my favorite beer is?