L’homme nouveau

Ten o’clock.

My new bass shipped this morning! I imagine I’ll get it Friday. It’s a sunny morning with some clouds. Been leafing through James Baldwin, rereading this and that passage. What impresses me about it is its honesty. And the honesty makes it more alive. Just acknowledging what is inside of us blesses it and brings it to life. There are the living who trust their instincts, and the dead ones who fall into lifeless rituals. Sort of like what happens in The Wall by Pink Floyd, but probably deeper. The passage regarding the Cathedral, how its shadow disfigures the people within it, is powerful. This is the oppressiveness of the Church… Strange how you can be trapped in a web of language. Theology controlled my thoughts for almost three years. It funneled the full color spectrum to monochrome. What, really, does religion offer you? A chance at eternal life after the grave? I just remembered Pascal’s Wager…

Eleven thirty. Even with the clouds, it’s beautiful outside. I’ve been to the store for foodstuffs. I feel great today. My bills are nearly all paid. A great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I’m going to practice my bass soon. I’ll just throw the two Rondo basses away, along with my history of psychosis and alcoholism. Kind of hard to describe how I feel, parting with the past.

Quarter of two. My bass practice went great, and it came from a place of inspiration. It was like being able to hear again after a long deafness. It must be the gabapentin, since nothing else is different. All my senses are sharper than before: it’s a restoration of my whole nervous system… It also may help that the season is springtime. Everything conjoins and conspires to renew my soul and body. I get the feeling that life will be okay, though with some qualms about where the inspiration comes from; is it a power of spiritual wickedness? If so, then it still feels much better than the gray existence from before the drug. I was in a prison of gray concrete and iron bars, a penitentiary, a place to confess and repent my sins. Then someone or something threw open the door, someone who had the key, and freed me. Now I don’t know the meaning of sin. Unless thinking makes it so, there is nothing either good or bad. My soul is the visible spectrum, a rainbow, plus the invisible beyond. There is no black and white. I’ve sloughed the convict shirt, lost the ball and chain. I am Mother Nature’s Son. The Noble Savage. I look on as the sky clouds up and omens rain. The rain will fall and equalize everything. In the midst of life, I am happiness itself.


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