Thursday September 20th 2012
Like all Priests or Druids or Mental Patients, I too prefer
to think I have the necessary arrogance to pursue a thread. In my
case, this thread is of a gauge Tadpoles would laugh at, but it's the
lure, or maybe a bait, that counts. Yet, even though I might
sometimes appear to endeavor it, when it comes to dragging it into the
net, beating it over the head, so that I might feast upon it's corpse,
someone else can did that. And if you want to know why, it has
more to do with my own experience of priests or the professions of
hallowedness, than it has to do with the gauge of my own value.
I remember arguing over
the distinction between a citizen military and a volunteer military.
The other point was that this distinction lay in the "question of values"
rather than in the convolutions that follow a desire to avoid the
possibility of dying for clan or country. I forget the ever so frail
point I was attempting to make, but I do remember thinking, "This dumb shit
is a pompous arse and we are doomed if even the Priests are self serving
cowherds with nothing but book sales from the souls of others on their
mind." A complete over reaction to one idea of 'personal
salvation,' I know. But it was his smirk that left the indelible mark
in me. And I wish I could remember the bastard's name.