In eighth grade algebra class, my teacher marked my exam wrong, where as it were, a drink costs, with tax, $6.67. At 6% tax, what was the original price? And I would probably get it wrong now, but in my youth, no way! The teacher marked my exam wrong, and as I usually do over things like that, I squealed. I squealed loud and hard until I got full credit for the exam question as being correct. Hmmm…the teacher did not mark all the others’ right who had done it wrong. I was miffed. The teacher did the problem wrong. The students did the problem wrong. I did it right, got marked wrong, and they all that did it wrong got marked right. Now, how about that for something to piss a teenage boy off! Where is the Justice in our world, folks?! Does no one care? Check that. No one does care! That is a fact!
I walk in a world satisfied that each his cup is filled, but tunnel vision prevents seeing his own neighbor. Why are we like this? I climbed the four stories of steps to my New York City-shared apartment. That was 18 years a Monday like today. Flights through Denver and then into LaGuardia Airport of New York City on that date very like today’s date, on a Monday, just as today is Monday. A journey began of trying to convince a world that there’s a God out there, but I find out the opposite. There ain’t no God. With a God, there would be Justice, and there is no Justice. It follows that there is no God. I read somewhere in those books that teach that, “God is that God is Just; if it were not so, God would cease to be God.”
Trying to convince the whole world that there is a God on this date that started 18 years ago, I met a Man in Manhattan, at a diner. I was with a couple buddies of the buddy system, and they wanted food. I didn’t. I had my own hand-layered sandwiches to munch. So I straddled the space on a certain seat and talked. But so did my guest. We were of differing opinions, and it ended that way. He said that man is borne over and over again on earth until each receives perfection, dying and living, dying and living. That all men are saved by God. I crinkled my nose when I walked away. I don’t really remember if I crinkled my nose, but my thoughts surely crinkled my nose as I walked away, because I just didn’t believe what was said. A guy up in North Westchester of the Bronx said he was an author writing a book about how all religions one day would combine into one. Great, but…I guess if he already believed in God, then what was I doing there? But my God is probably different from most, being that mine doesn’t exist. Not now, anyway. Back then, though, oh, yes, very much so. Down low on the street I meet a man who labors as a translator. I say, let’s speak. He invites us. We that day as appointed appear, to find a barrage of pointed questions, pointed kinda like, right at us. We backed away, abashed and stymied by his astounding ability to ask questions that we MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT WANT TO ANSWER! But on to other things we went instead, like, I dunno, looking for another door with somebody probably inside that’ll just pass on us, anyway. That was 18 years ago. I had learned to nod my head at whatever everybody said. I had learned that getting along in life meant just letting things be the way others who were powerful said that they were. I had tasted the bitterness of defying authority and coming away strung. –Don’t do that again.
But I was new to this crusade of convincing the whole world that God is real, not even a week broken into the streets. I mean, I had been doing phone calls, what they call referring, the ones who would want a literature or video or visit…but then, less than a week on the streets, the group of buddies and gals also in the buddy system a somewhat number of us was organized to put a table and pictures and literature, and one of the persons was supposed to stand atop a wooden crate and talk talk talk to all passersby, convincing them one and all that there REALLY is a God, and we should obey him. Blah blah blah. I was new I don’t have to do it. I’ll be the observer. So I thought, but no. I, too, was told by the upper up that I had to…ummm…stand up there and PREACH. Well, life goes on, or else it stops. Or else it gets thrown in a black hole and then stops. I think mine was the latter.
I suppose I was just looking back today, that day was April the 5th of 18 years ago my arrival to New York City. But it was a Monday. And I remember Kingsbridge. There was a church there rumored to be the most expensive of any of the churches and property in all the church whose jersey I was wearing at the time. We all change, don’t we? I mean, over time…we all change thoughts. We all change beliefs. We can’t expect to be forever stagnant in life, can we? Stuck to conformity to rules of hypnotism to embrace certain cadence forms that lull audiences into a certain relax mode to believe that everything being said is true…Hmmm…I beg to differ. Nothing is true until it IS. AND. AND. Nothing is just until it IS. So, wherever Justice is, you can come out from hiding, you know, if you’re real, that is. Because if you don’t exist, then PLAIN and SIMPLE, there is no God. I assert that.