Can I argue with that reasoning?
It’s just kind of an odd thing to be asked like that.
I’m not sure how to respond to that.
Still, all up, I’ve only spent eight hours with you, including tonight. I’m now thinking there could be a second date, but is that such a good idea with a guy I hardly know?
So I want to know something.
I mean, now I’m thinking I have to come up with something interesting. Something first date interesting. It’s like I have to write that perfect opening line to a novel, and somehow be able to capture everything I want you to know about me in it.
What if I tell you I don’t like Aldous Huxley?
What will that mean?
Will you take it to mean I have a thing against drugs, or I don’t like literature, or even that I am against cloning?
Any choice I make is layered with meaning and I’m now left with having to find a hook that will not just make you think of a second date, but will be so fantastic that it will actually make you think, "I want to sleep with him."
Wasn’t dinner nice?
That’s very admirable.
Some of the pressure off now?
Well, now I’m worried if the joke about sleeping with you means you think I’m just after a good time and that I’m not really serious.
Will that count?
Then I guess not.
I dress up like Jesus on a weekly basis.
Sometimes twice a week.
You know. Just…
No. I seriously dress up like Jesus.
It’s just funny.
You should see the look on the faces of people when you pass them. They’re amazed. They can’t understand it. For a moment, you can actually see them asking, “Is the Second Coming taking place in the car park?”
It’s just kind of sad to do it in your own living room.
It’s just—look, religion is so serious.
Think about it: each year, we celebrate what is essentially Zombie Jesus day. The Nation stops for it. Everyone—even if they don’t celebrate it—is aware of it. I mean, isn’t that just weird when you think about it? We’re all celebrating the day Jesus became part of the undead.
Yet, I’ve never heard a Cardinal or Bishop say, “Hello children, who’s here for Zombie Jesus?”
That’s just my point. For them it’d be—it’d be this big offense. It’s all so serious. You can’t make fun of Zombie Jesus.
But the dude rose from the dead!
There’s no denying that in the mythology. There’s a serious level of undeadness going on there. Would it hurt just to make a joke every now and then? Just a little bit of a self-depreciating humour to show that not everything is such a serious event.
No. That’s it’s humourless.
Zombie Jesus day is just such a serious thing—
The eggs are hugely seriously! It’s big business serious!
No—No, I’m serious.
Okay. I was going to point out how it’s Zombie Jesus prayer time and Rome rolls the Pope out. The guy must be, like, a hundred and eighty and needs people to attach bags to him so he can go to the toilet, and they roll him out.
They do this because he’s the Pope. He’s got to be there.
It’s so important that he be there that even though he’s got this thing in his throat and he can’t speak, they put him in the window and they let him give a blessing.
Totally. It was like he was just going through the motions after years and years of doing it. There was no thought in it at all.
But that’s not what’s just messed up about it. What’s even crazier are the images of young women crying. They bow their heads and are moved by his presence and say things like, “You could feel a ripple move through the crowd.”
They’re so serious about the ritual that they don’t want it disturbed so they’re all going to ignore the fact that this man is seriously ill. That he needs serious caring and that he shouldn’t be used as the figurehead mask to be swapped from Cardinal to Cardinal so they can keep their power.
It’s all connected.
See, publicly, there’s only one way to take religion, and that’s seriously. You’re either seriously for it, or seriously against it, or seriously don’t give a shit. Whatever it is, you’re serious about it. It’s never about Zombie Jesus and people making films called Zombie Jesus, Kung Fu Master!
Which is the side we should see, but we don’t because people would be seriously against it. Religion has to be seriously important and thus we all deal with it like that. How else could a film like Passion of the Christ be made?
Well, if you’re not so fanatical about it, I reckon you kind of notice that he’s just an old man, dying slowly.
Once you notice that, you question stuff.
You’ve read my blog, haven’t you?
You have a blog?
I—I didn’t even know you had a blog.
Why would you keep one?
That’s what you write?
I haven’t read it.
Hey, I just admitted that I dress up like Jesus. I think I deserve some slack cut here.
If you’re lying, this is so not going to work out.
My last boy was a chronic liar. He lied so much that I didn’t even know the true colour of his hair. It’s a sickness.
I’m—why, why would I lie?
But I’m just telling you, I got hurt the last time.
I found out he had a whole second life selling drugs and having unprotected sex and it was—it was not something I appreciated, to be polite. It hurt. I’ve avoided relationships and guys for a while since that, so if you’re lying, if you’ve been reading my blog and this is just some sick way to score…
You won’t be happy.
I’m not lying.
I assure you. I had no idea. It was just—just one of those things.
I just don’t know.
That’s a second date, right?
(Street Conversations is an eight week project of prose and photography. Jesus, Again is part seven. It's been written to compliment part two, Jesus. If you haven't read part two, do the click, and you'll get a little extra something. Anyhow, previous weeks have been Wires, Words for Friends, Love, Hate, and Gifts for Strangers. One week left. How will it all end?)