| A Momentary Bout of Unadulturated Hatred and Vitriol |
[Nov. 4th, 2009|03:55 pm] |
Forgiveness means nothing if it wasn't difficult to do. This is an essential hypocrisy of so many Christians; to worship a God of forgiveness while according that same courtesy to none. To believe that you are saved, to convince yourself that you are a righteous soul in the presence of so many sinners, is to indulge in a profoundly selfish sensibility. To enshrine such selfishness within such a selfless image goes beyond irony, into monstrosity. To employ the facade of a loving God as an instrument of petty, personal distaste is far more sacrilegious than any sin of the flesh.
I believe in forgiveness, I do. I don't claim to be christian, but there are things I like about the underlying message, and that's one of them. Yet, in this moment, I despise you. Yes, you, whomsoever you are. You, who voted to remove someone else's attempt to claim a little dignity for themselves. You, so privileged you can't imagine how anyone else could be dissatisfied with your sanctimonious, vacuous demand that all people should be the same as you, and those who are not belong in some lesser status than you. You, who let yourself be blinded, not even by faith, but by simple, stupid, petty spite.
You didn't vote out of faith, you liars. You voted out of malice. You voted because the thought of two boys, or two girls, doing things you find distasteful with each other, want to share something with each other that you, in your sickeningly trite, self-righteous superiority, can't "approve" of. Well, who gives a fuck about your approval? Why should you have such a say in the lives of others, personal or private? There is no justifying this: you, in your vast capacity for pompous, self-serving fictions, have convinced yourself that it is your personal duty to oversee the rest of the world's adherence to your arbitrary morality.
You voted for this. You voted, not to "protect" anything, but to keep it away from others. You voted because your religion enables you to hate with impunity and grace, forgiven by a higher power such that your conscience can't be held to account for anything you do. You voted, which means you chose, and you acted. You decided to take an active part in preventing the happiness of thousands and thousands of other people, and you lied, to yourselves and to everyone else. Your pastor is not to blame. Society is not to blame. Your faith is no protection from the fact that you went behind that handy little curtain and cast your ballot in favor of hatred, supression and stigmatization.
In this moment, I despise you. I demonize you. I think the least of you, and wish you ill. I see the fundamental flaw in all the structures that support you: not for creating you, but for giving you a place to hide, to pretend you are made of higher materials, to cleanse yourself of responsibility for your own choices. I hate you, and the system in which you flourish, and the fictions and fallacies which nourish your arrogance, selfishness and greed. I hate you, terribly, deeply, with such resounding force that, should it be manifest, it would shake the sky and rattle the earth; I could tear it all down, laughing all the way, see you petulant little egos tremble before the vastness of my rage; the rage at all your stolen history and fictional goodness, the lies you've convinced yourself of because you just can't bring yourself to see anyone else as an equal. I hate you because of your blindness, you choice to be blind, to pretend it's out of your hands. I hate you because you are, despite every wish and dream and optimistic delusion of my own design, still the majority, and unlikely ever not to be. I hate you because you make goodness the exception, kindness the less probably option. I hate you because you are my disillusionment, because, in this moment, I discover that you are not, after all, capable of growth; because I discover that everything good and loving in this world is the exception, because people will convince themselves of anything if it means seeing the other person suffer and pretending it isn't entertaining.
You are the flaw from which History aborts itself, deranged and screaming as it revels in its own evisceration and self-loathing. You are the monster species, zombie plague, let loose upon itself and in a perpetual state of feeding, breeding and regression. You are my despair, and, in the end, I hate you because you are hate, and there is no other response to such a massive response in favor of institutionalized inequality, born out of paranoia and bigotry. Tomorrow, I will try to get on with my life, find my joy despite your every attempt to the contrary, but for now, in this moment, I want you to know (and know you never really will) how much I loathe you.
Fragment, to be finished later
No more, the fiction future to be sought,
with mechanism's murderous intent.
The murder is in killing the machines,
which into complex chromosomes have rent.
Taste sex in silicon, in interface,
in rough-hewn robot carnival delights;
in which you are the potter, wheel and clay
make love to process, spinning in the night.
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sad
