augustine stork daddy considerations of the world as inert, of matter, of society as a turning wheel were suddenly a black spot after a night in a small shelter past some off shoot of a roman road. no memory of what came before, and only a dull ache in his body that told him there were invisible strings attaching him to some him that wasn't him some inhabitation that he foisted on another girl that caught his fancy. coming into the bright day he said the prayers his mother said, on a lark. and found in them some satisfaction. yes that's it, they're the same, the same erasure, the same everything becoming one thing, one heightening destruction. they'll think me noble too for displacing my ecstasy with theirs. religion, faith, it has the same imperious suspended logic of a drunk. take this cup and drink it. a drunk in this world and the next. the same balance between head splitting light and forgetfulness. the same feeling of having it all perfectly balanced, before judgment. 080505 ... Doar . 080505 ... Doar I have to say that was eye candy stork man. 080517 ... past but, in finding himself lost and weary along that off shoot of a roman road he opened a book at the beckoning call of childs' play from the yard nextdoor and read aloud from the letters of paul. his world shifted, as he so long prayed and dreamed and lusted for; as his mother so long prayed and dreamed and lusted for; and he was thrown into the throws of conversion to embrace the errant ways of the protocatholic faith leaving behind the errant ways of the mannichean faith. there's a loss in his story a deep and bitter loss, the loss of an old man, losing his life in an instant but finding himself truly deeply wholey in that same moment. but who is his god, and how does that god fair against his conception of good and his conception of evil as the absent darkness that doing for no-thing and for nothing. the blinding lights of hindsight left augustine changed; another saul turning into paul. 080517 ... stork daddy thanks doar. he's my patron saint these days. 080519 what's it to you? who go blather from