WRITINGS
"I cracked the ampule, inhaling the glowing contents. A new reality surged to my mind, fully formed yet fragmented. I stood at the edge of the tent revival during the 67th Great Awakening, the pastor shredding her own garments on the white stage, she called to me, me, intoning in a gravelly voice the words of the past as her overweight form writhed beneath the rolling rainbow gobos to the soundtrack of this new faith.
Many gods. Gods of all the small things and big things. Gods of tears and keyboards, gods who undermined the greater and ancient gods, gods upon gods who were both behind the technology and the technology itself. Gods of treachery and lucidity.
My soul leapt at this – a new mutation of faith in practice, hallucinating eternally the noise and the praise necessary for a time when mankind had beliefs. All religion is a hope for the past to be worthy of our unideal present."