I Want You To Remember What Was

All The World Is Made Of Music. We Are All Strings On A Lyre. We Resonate. We Sing Together.

I See God Now As An Unimaginative Writer Of Popular Fictions, Someone Who Builds Stories Around Sadistic And Graceless Plots, Narratives That Exist Only To Express His Terror Of A Woman's Power To Choose Who And How To Love, To Redefine Love As She Sees Fit, Not As God Thinks It Ought To Be. The Author Is Unworthy Of His Own Characters.

Aren't You Going To Tell Me I'm Not So Bad? She Asked. Mmm-no. I Was Thinking How Every Man Loves A Hot Girl With A History Of Making Mistakes. Because It's Always Possible She'll Make One With You.

God Saves - But Not Now, And Not Here. His Salvation Is On Layaway. Like All Grifters, He Asks You To Pay Now And Take It On Faith That You Will Receive Later. Whereas Women Offer A Different Sort Of Salvation, More Immediate And Fulfilling. They Don't Put Off Their Love For A Distant, Ill-defined Eternity But Make A Gift Of It In The Here And Now, Frequently To Those Who Deserve It Least. So It Was In My Case. So It Is For Many. The Devil And Woman Have Been Allies Against God From The Beginning.

Music [is] The Third Rail Of Life. You Grabbed It To Shock Yourself Out Of The Dull Drag Of Hours. To Feel Something. To Burn With All The Emotions You Didn't Get To Experience In The Ordinary Run Of School, Tv, And Loading The Dishwasher After Dinner.