The Accidental Deity

Toilet.  Water closet.  Salle de bain.  Bathroom.

I was taking care of business, washing my hands after emptying my urine bladder, when a fellow walked up and asked me if I was who he was told to think I was supposed to be.

Now how'n'th' brown cow am I supposed to answer who I'm supposed to be?  I can barely remember the difference between the use of who and whom and who the hell cares about symbols and hieroglyphics and semantics and smells.

Evergreen.  Old Spice.  Desert spice.  Stetson.  Sandalwood vanilla bean.  Brut.

Close calls make life worth living.

Am I awake?

You see you see, you see?

I didn't ask to be born but I love my parents anyway.

The gods must be crazy about soda bottles on freeze frames.

You don't always get what you want.

Yesterday, during the memorial service for the dead grandfather of my sister's children, I watched the solemn faces of the three men who would stand up and speak.

We know death.  We know life.  We know happiness and we know suffering.

Yesterday, during the memorial service for the dead grandfather of my sister's children, I watched the solemn faces of the three men who eventually stood up to speak.

Who, who, who cooks for you.  Is it the whippoorwill or the bob-o-link?  What about the wren or the mourning dove?

Yesterday, during the memorial service for the dead grandfather of my sister's children, I watched the silent faces of the three men who spoke.

Yes, yesterday.

Today is not yesterday.

Do you know your god(s)?  Do they (does s/he) know you?

Do you know the numbers racket very well?  Do you bet against the spread or do you pick the win/place/showdown?

After I dried my hands - slowly, slowly, s-l-o-w-l-y - I turned around in the slate-tiled washroom, threw the paper towel over the head of the man next to me and into a trash receptacle behind him.  Bottom!  Nothing but plastic trash bag!

Do you have children?  Do you remember the first time you let them fly alone with a pilot?  Do you remember the first time you let them ride the bus or train?  Do you remember the first time you handed them the keys to your favorite internal combustion engined sportsmobile and said, "Don't forget to brake into the curve and accelerate like a bat out of hell like your Pa"?

I pointed a finger at my image in the mirror.  Do I know who I am?  Yes, I do.

I looked at the man standing next to me and told him he doesn't know who I am and no, I'm not supposed to be anyone.

He told me that was too bad.  He had been authorised to give me one billion dollars to do with as I wished.

I remember when one billion dollars was a lot of money.  These days, billionaires are a dime a dozen.  How many trillionaires do you know?  Yeah, too many to count, right?

Thing is, there's a level of existence where money means absolutely nothing.  I mean zero.  Squat (no, I don't mean to crouch down).  Nada.

All this talk about the solemnity and seriousness of eternity.  Do you know the gods have a cruel sense of humour?  Do you know that time is more valuable than money and the gods trade time like we trade fishing lures?

Eternity?  Pshaw!  Infinity does not exist.  Everything is a slice of everything else.  A woven seatback.  A Möbius strip.  The conservation of matter and energy is one big joke among the gods, especially the Conjurer and the Jester.

The loss of a family member hurts more than I want to remember right now.  But pain and seriousness are not the same thing.  All of us still exist but we lose track of those who've transformed from living creatures in our realm of existence to the separate parts and particles all around us.

Who am I?  In this virtual world called the Internet, I am the imaginary child, the "accident," the "oops," of the conjugal love between two imaginary gods, the Conjurer and the Jester.  I am the accidental deity called the Practical Joker.  I slip in and out of royal courts with ease.  I see when I'm not listening and hear when I'm not watching.

Who am I?  I am the least among you because I am unimportant.  I stand before you but I am invisible.  My visage is not my lineage.  My name is but a temporary label assigned to my body for tax purposes.

Can your beliefs.  Put them up on a shelf.  Use the can opener to unseal the symbology tied to the emotional brainwashing when you think it's time to think with your glandular thoughts.

Who am I?  The more important question answers who you are.  You do not exist but rarely can you split your thoughts into seeing the great superiourity of existence to see the even greater nonexistence at the same time.

I do not exist and because I do not exist I know what others who do not exist also know: nothing exists.  Only when you know nothing exists can you see every pattern in this place where we say we exist.

Time is your cup of tea, coffee, beer or booze - all tied to water.  You're what, 70% water and 60% foreign organisms?  If you know that measuring sticks measure something which does not exist, then you know why you're a temporary measuring stick.

I didn't ask to be born but I love life anyway.  After all, I don't exist and love doesn't exist so what's there not to love?

Practical jokers are neutral.  They work the audience for a laugh, the dupe, duped and duper trading places all the time.  I didn't ask for this assignment - I was born into it and trained to take the reins when the last god lost her mind and went on the dole.  The dolt!

Okay, who's next?  Give me someone fun to work with.  I don't want dull, corny or clichéd.  Then again, I've been around so long it all looks the same.

Perhaps the power of persuasion.  Nothing like getting into someone's daydreams and dropping a few subtle hints.  You're thinking about an important task ... you're getting sleepy ... sleepy ... tired ... just a few winks and now you're nodding off ... here's what I want you to do next ... hehe ...