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A Sunday spent. What fine ways—to use up our time here. Yes, we’re the same. Yes, they feel the same way. Our insecurities! So it goes. Chemical excess, physical excess, we must be progressing at the speed of light. Each time we awake like this on Sunday morning and realize that we’re not gods, it takes a little time to believe again that we are! Someday we’ll all be the same—the music, our idols, the cut of our clothes—won’t separate us anymore–what idiocy! Take it from me. Repeating in a kind of chant in a mistaken phone recording… some inner flippancy, some shamefully simple thing: hey, you… from god to human to god to human.
