It was an honest mistake

It's the last night of class. I'm talking about masturbation. I wish I was home, not because I'm ashamed to talk about masturbation in front of conservative people (though it might be fun and I'll be disappointed if no one challenges my thoughts), no, I wish I was home because I'm over this class and these people.

I forgot to mention that a few weeks ago I was trying to listen to public radio and a report on Iraq or some such nonsense when a crappy Christian song started interferring with the reception. It went something like this:

"In Iraq today, 25 people were killed when a car bomb exploded in a LORD YOU ARE EVERYTHING I NEED AND I WANT TO reactions were mixed, and though no group claimed responsibility THE WATER I NEED, THE PLACE I CAN GO TO LOVE and to date, the deadliest attack in the Basra region WHENEVER I CALL TO YOU."

It is so like Christians to think that their worship is more valid than the ills of the world. I know it wasn't intentional, but if our only response to pain and suffering is a clanging gong or resounding symbol. It's crappy. I don't like it.

I'm reading Hunter S. Thompson right now. He's a badass. I think I want to be like him, except for the killing oneself. I can recognize that it was the only way out for him and that his character demanded it, but for catssake, that boy can write! I finished a Bukowski book earlier this month too and I just right now as I'm sitting here recognize that these men experienced first and wrote what they felt. It makes sense; both of them wrote in about the same period of time and I wonder if it's an American phenomenon (Hemingway, et al). Probably not, but what can you do?

I don't know if my faith is mine.

Peace.