God must be insane.
Or he has some untapped power that I don’t. I wonder where he hides it, or if he does at all. The reason I say this is because when I try to create something, it’s a maddening process. Anytime I try—like the great artists of the past who expanded the human psyche—I go insane.
All I ever wanted to do was help people. I don’t know that I ever did or that I ever will. And it is difficult to help folks when you are leading church services on acid. But I probably shouldn’t go there yet. That might be too much detail, especially this early in the story. When these things happen—like that church service, or others that I led while intoxicated—I’ll wonder where all that untapped power was and why I couldn’t get any.
I never did. I just didn’t. It seems like God was laughing at me with his arms crossed saying, “There’s no way you can be like me. You’re mad. And you need to go along your way, or you are going to make me mad. And that’s a madness no one wants to see.” After he says this, he laughs loud booming laughter like I never heard before.
That’s my que to hightail it out of there humiliated and ashamed of myself. Who wants to see a god mad anyway? I know I don’t.
I’m not sure of the outcome yet. Honestly. And who knows if I will even see any outcome by the time of my death, which I hope is later than sooner. I guess God only knows. But who really knows a god? I mean really.