Fucked by Light

I feel just like a tape recorder. I feel just like a VCR. Which is to say: broken! I have no way of remembering, anymore, everything I wanted to. What I want to remember and record is audio-cassette tape static, video grains. But I can't. We've moved onto bigger and nicer ways of remembering.

So many really stupid and really great things were said to me this weekend. More than once, I was tempted to reach for my pen and paper to write them down. There're a couple really funny jokes that've been lost to the weekend which I know I can't get back. And that's okay, because I remember the thing I meant to.

Which is this: a friend of mine was describing an awesome experience he had recently. I won't bore you by identifying him or the situation (that's not my job, identification, that's not my task in life), but I will quote as completely as possible because I think it's the right idea:
"I had an ecstatic experience. It was like light poured into my body. I was-- I got fucked by light. I realized that I should just probably be a saint. So I'm a saint now. I've started a cult. It was like I finally understood. God put a flaming arrow through my heart."
I asked what the Cult was called but he wouldn't tell me.

Fucked by Light.

Happy Monday.

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