NEEDLING

We are all guilty. With the evidence available, none of us could stand trial. We’re all good for the guillotine. Bourgeoisie in spite of ourselves. And if we’re not guilty personally, our parents and or our grandparents certainly are, which makes us guilty by association. We’re all good for the gallows! To the lions we go! The whole bunch, lets get the games started! Don’t know what I’m talking about. Raised strict Catholic by non-believing parents who have through the years become more and more the church goers, I am not your regular atheist. Matter fact, I am not an atheist at all, though I have been accused of such many times. I believe in life, in responsibility, in consequences, in the spirit of life, in the mystery of life, in the world in which we live in, from which we are an inseparably part... I believe that I am God, as well as every other person which I meet or not, any other person which lives or has lived, we are all part of the same machine, the same struggle, the same love, the same hate... we’re all dirt, crude oil to be, full of energy and spirit, part of a whole mother earth which is us and we are her or him... or whatever. The White Goddess, by Robert Graves, deserves a looking into.

I like Gypsy music, and that’s what I’m listening to right now. Romanian epic poems sung through my little cheap computer speakers. I don’t understand them, but I know I am them, that they sing about me and my family, about my grandparents, my great-grandparents, about myself somehow. I know.