Hell House

Last night MK and I watched the movie Hell House, a documentary about these losers in Texas who create a haunted house of “sins.” It was quite upsetting, as these “Christians” have the most infantile, shallow, petty conceptions of God possible, and are judgmental and self righteous in every way. They have taken a complex, mysterious, ancient text or collection of texts – the bible – and simplified it to fit their culture and their own (pathetic) ideas of right and wrong. I know most “Christians” do this, but the Hell House crew take it to an infuriating extreme. They trivialize pain and indulge their fantasies of painful situations so that their haunted house is a grotesque manifestation of hypocrisy. The create the following theatrical scenes: rape, abortion, a gay man dying of AIDS, incest, and more – with the point of each being the moment where the character either chooses Jesus/God or rejects him. The characters all reject God, that is, they express anger at God for allowing them to suffer, and are immediate banished to Hell, where the devil taunts and torments them “for eternity.” At the end of the haunted house, the visitors have the chance to pray and accept God. Unfortunately, they scared thousands of ignorant Texas kids into “accepting” God in this way. These types of evangelical “Christians” often talk about there being a war in this world between god and Satan, and how they want to “win souls for Christ.” These are also the same people who usually support real wars. They really don’t know anything about God, or Jesus.

The only thing I know about God, and I’ve said this before, is that God is indefinable and incomprehensible. It is impossible for the human mind to wrap itself around God. The western, scientific mind doesn’t want a mystery like this, but eastern religions have the right approach. All religions have some truth, and it’s good to search, to try to understand. But in the end, there are no answers, because we are too small, and the big picture is too big.

They are laying people off at my job again. I may or may not be laid off. If I am, I will try to take it as an opportunity. One door closes, another door opens. I will try to work as a substitute teacher, which I didn’t plan to start until next fall. In a way, I hope this happens. But money is a big worry. Everyone is worried about money. I have a hard time accepting that part of life – in tarot cards it is the pentacle. I resent that each person has to find a way to create financial and material security for herself and her family, especially when that security depends so much on outside factors, like the economy. But I’ve become stronger over the years, so maybe the struggle is good. This job I have now, it’s not a problem if I’m depressed, so I feel less anxious also. But then again, I have no real challenges or goals here, so that in itself is depressing. I still didn’t get the letter telling me whether or not I am accepted to graduate school. Everything feels frozen until I know about that. I don’t care if I’m poor, but I need to be able to pay my rent and buy food. That’s it! I love my home with Mishy. I look forward to going home every night. I hope I don’t become overwhelmed with anxiety and unable to be good company when my comfortable routine (this job) ends. I would hate to have her stressed over my finances. I want to be a support and great wife, not a burden or someone on the edge of despair and panic.

Where I am, right now

It is official. I’m not in a band anymore. Everyone says I did the right thing, and I can come back to music later. But can I? Is that really realistic? I feel so fucking sick about this. On the way to work I listened to a jam from practice and one song off the demo. I feel like the quitter part of me has triumphed, the lazy part that never wanted to go to practice or hang around in bars waiting to play, and wanted to go home as soon as possible afterwards. And I worry that I’m fooling myself by thinking that I’m capable of doing any other job besides the pointless one I have now. Could I really be a teacher? Could I work that hard? I feel I have betrayed a part of myself, by quitting the band. It seems like a real tragedy. There I had a talented group of musicians who liked me and we worked well together, and a member besides myself, who did everything: networking and setting up shows, managing the myspace profile, everything I was too lazy or anxious to do. I miss jamming. Last night I would have been at practice, and of course I was happy to go home, instead, to my wife. But a part of me was angry at myself, and still is upset. Why couldn’t I do it all? Of course I have to try graduate school, and to get my career going in that direction. I CAN’T work here forever. My salary is capped out, and I get bored and depressed doing nothing with my brain. The last show we did, in Albany, was one of the best! I received so many positive comments, and one person telling me how special our sound and dynamic was, and he said “never let them go. Never break up.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him or even fully admit to myself it was my last show. In some ways, I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to go. But knowing the musical quality was appreciated made everything feel worth it. And at the point I decided to quit the band, we weren’t getting any positive feedback! But aren’t I weak for needing that? It seems I’m too weak for everything. Why did I quit before I even started classes? Obviously I wanted to quit. I didn't even try to do both. Why? And will the same thing that made me quit the band make me quit graduate school or teaching when it gets hard? Ugh, what the fuck.

I’m sorry this issue has to cast a shadow on the fact that Michelle moved in, and truly I’m happy to have her with me in a daily, permanent way. I felt I couldn’t stand NOT having her living with me any longer. She seemed to be missing me less since starting her job, and me missing her more, but I know that we love each other the same. Life events make the love take different shapes in how it feels. So her stuff is all in my apartment now, and I love it. The many, many pairs of shoes, the furniture that was once in her childhood bedroom, all the books on suicide, drug addiction, borderline disorder, the DSM, I’m Okay You’re Okay, Prozac Nation, By Her Own Hand, the behavioral workbooks….they’re all available for my education now….the wardrobe that I’m taking advantage of along with the shoes (today it's purple kangaROOS), and the belts. She is the cutest girl ever. She had dinner ready when I got home last night! We are setting things up very nicely. She is working in bad neighborhoods though, and I am concerned about how the signs of drug activity affect her. She said she saw ten empty heroin bags on the street yesterday in Harlem and Queens. She only picked one up and then threw it down again rather than drool over the crumbs. Last night I had a dream that she came to the door of my house (some house) and was asking me to look up this map on the internet. She walked by me quickly but I grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to get a look in her face. She evaded my eyes but I caught them and saw the little pupils, which were almost translucent or purple, and I knew she was high. I started yelling at her, “You’re so fucking stupid,” and she became immediately defensive and walked away from me, and I recalled that I was acting like her first girlfriend, Amy. She was going to leave, but then started telling me about what a great day she’d had. She went to an amusement park and said the roller coaster was amazing. Then our friends Alicia and Jessica came over and I realized they all did it together. I started yelling at them, “How could you! You’re supposed to keep my girlfriend safe!” And they just laughed at me, and Alicia said, “Why? We don’t care if we die. JJ has OD’d in the bathroom a couple times before.” And I started hitting them, and I wondered if maybe I should just give in and do some too, but I knew it wasn’t right. Then I hit them with red dye on my hands and got it all over their shirts, but they just laughed, and said, “Remember when she tried to hit your mom?” about Alicia’s mom. Then I woke up from this nightmare and my baby was sleeping next to me, but I told her the dream, and then I went to the bathroom but I tripped on something on the way back and hurt my toe, so then I was wide awake and smoked a cigarette. The dream was so real, and horrible. I have more to say, but I should get to work here. (mindless work for a disturbed mind).