Ben Peek (benpeek) wrote,
Ben Peek
benpeek

  • Music:

G is for God (Interviewing, Discussing, So Forth)

God - Most interviews begin with, "I first met God," and then go on from there, as if they were interviewing a starlet or star, or someone with whom the first meeting, the first impression, is worthy of note. Large, soft spoken, a nervous tap--all of it important, somehow. This, however, is not the case. I have never met God. He doesn't send me email. She doesn't call me on the phone. It doesn't agree to be recorded. Yet still, there is God, here. Speaking.

God, Speaking -

This isn't really an interview, y'know.

It is if I say it is.


It can't be if you're writing the answers down for me.

Come on, I'm making a statement with that.


...

You're full of shit, B.


God - "And the rib, which the LORD God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man. And Adam said, This is now bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man."

God, Speaking -

Where'd you find this place, anyway?


I just sorta walked into it. you know how it is--you want something to be something, it just appears.

Yeah, but a weedy little fucking cafe? I thought those stairs leading to this thing was going to kill me, man. And I was pretty damn fucking sure that was blood I stepped over there.


Stop being so whiny.

That bothers you, huh?


I hate whiny people.

...


Don't smirk.

Sorry, man, it's just--


Not everyone religious is whiny. Or annoying.

A good portion.


Just get a fucking menu.

God - "Do you not know that you are each an Eve? The sentence of God on this sex of yours lives in this age: the guilt must of necessity live too. You are the Devil's gateway: You are the unsealer of the forbidden tree: You are the first deserter of the divine law: You are she who persuaded him whom the devil was not valiant enough to attack. You destroyed so easily God's image, man. On account of your desert even the Son of God had to die."

God, Speaking -

You ever give it any thought?

I think I'll have this laksa.


They do a good range of laksa here. But back to my point: you ever give the afterlife any thought?

I thought I was suppose to be asking you questions?


Just answer the fucking question.

You are one pissy fuck when they don't let you smoke.


Answer it.

Okay. Fine. I've given it thought.

Say you're God, you're real, and everything written in a book is right. Pick a fucking a book. I don't care. Pick a version, pick a religion, I don't give a shit. Lets just say that the official stance is all right. That means that Heaven--assuming there is such a thing--is filled with all the people who believe this shit. All those people who spent their fucking time trying to stop people from birth control, abortions, fucking marriage, just plain old fucking... Pick your choice. That means they were right. That means they get Heaven. Open doors. Free rent. Bar tab that never gets called. They got it all.


That's not answering the question.

My point I'm trying to make here is why would I want to spend my fucking time with them? I barely fucking tolerate those assholes now.


So you're saying you want Hell?

If all I got is two fucking choices, yeah.


You better pray for a third then.

I'd pray for a dozen if I prayed.


God - "And, behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster box of ointment. And stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment... And he [Jesus] turned to the woman and said unto Simon, "Seest this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil didst thou not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.""

God, Speaking

So, you hate religious people?

Do you?


Indulge me.

I was in charge when we started this.


You're me anyway and I'm you. That make you feel better.

It sounds like you're just dancing round the fucking subject.


Then answer me the question.

No. I ain't got nothing against people with religion.


You--

Providing--


You just cut off God!

Shut up. Jesus fuck. Providing--Providing they don't try to tell me how to live my life. Providing they don't try to put some law over me. Providing they don't try to take rights away from me.


You hate religious people, don't you?

Are you even listening to me?


God - "The power of femaleness--to attract, seduce, pleasure, and reproduce; to mother, mold, inspire, and educate--has always posed a threat to the Church. From the earliest centureies, Church fathers have sought to silence or sideline the voices of women. Indeed, the particulars of Mary Magdalene's discipleship--her relationship to Jesus, her supposed sexual sins, her teaching and writing and ministry--are still the subject of much debate. Evidence in the Gnostic Gospels suggests that Mary was more intimately attached to Jesus than any of the twelve apostles. That she ministered and preached and wrote and spread the "good news" in the early years of the emerging christian Church seems incontrovertible. That one way of silencing her teachings wand diminishing her standing among Christ's disciples was to taint her memory with sexual sin--a thing accomplished by a third-century church who first suggested she was the prostitute described in Like 7: 36-50--seems likewise incontrovertible."

God, Speaking -

The problem with religion has always been people.

That's such a bold statement for God.


Fuck you. I regret bringing you to this place.

You so got the shakes.


Shut up. I'm making a point.

Spare me.


Take that laksa.

My laksa?


Your laksa. Take that. That's not a bad laksa. You just said so, and that's fine. But it ain't the best fucking laksa ever made, is it? Ain't going to feed everyone. Ain't going to please everyone.

Be one fine laksa if it did.


So it would. The problem is, say, you make it so that everyone has to eat this laksa. You get a marketing team. They come up with a slogan. Some fucker writes a rule book on how to make it. Suddenly, up pops some Soup Nazi, forcing you to pay for it one way, eat it another, don't share it--it just gets all fucked up.

You just had a Seinfeld reference there, didn't you?


The thing I'm trying to say here is that laksa is good for some people. Some people love the laksa. Some do not. That's fine. But no laksa can run the world, and you can't run the world on some sort of purity of the laksa, but the moment some people get organised, it's laksa or nothing, you know?

Would you like my laksa?


No, I would like a cigarette.

God -





God, Speaking -

Well, I guess I should thank you, huh? This is the end and all.


Fair enough. You enlightened?

No. I found it all kind of simplistic.


Well, it's all you talking to yourself, so what's that say?

That I'd be happy if religion was just some thing people did in the privacy of their home?


You're a fucking genius, B.

Fuck you.


Ha! Come on, loser, lets go. You owe me cigarettes.


Previously,

A
B
C
D
E
F




Has this gotten out of hand yet? I could have written a short story with the time I've spent writing these. Fuuu-ck. Do you know, sometimes I think about going back and altering earlier posts to bring it all into line. I think I've gone insane. I've lost my mind. Clearly.
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