This is your pilot, Jesus. This airplane I call me’s been in a bit of a creative funk lately. I can’t be totally biographical (or autobiographical) because I’m concerned with what people might think if they lack all the context — I’m afraid folks might not see the whole picture and I don’t trust my ability or willingness to give it to them. I don’t want to oversimplify or caricaturize anyone. And I can’t please everyone, though I desperately want to do just that. I also can’t make interesting things up because (1) I don’t want folks who are used to me trying to be real thinking they can take them as real happenings and (2) I don’t want to bullshit folks or be accused of bullshitting or confuse the facts of my existence with the bullshit to such a degree that no one knows what to believe. Often I feel I can’t be creative or blur the lines of reality — even though I know it’s impossible for anyone to be totally objective and as soon as we put anything into words we immediately make it both more and less than what it really is. There are no real lines, are there? But I simply can’t. Or can I? I often feel I must be plain spoken and prosaic, lest anyone misunderstand. But do I?
Okay, this airplane has been in the hangar long enough. And if it’s to stay there indefinitely, what’s the point of having a plane or paying the hangar fees anyway? I’m telling myself, “Just write, brother!” So I’m going to simply free flow — not worry about sticking to the facts or staying in character or even speaking with my own voice. The perspective will change constantly. I’ll be using the voices of a multitude of others, real and imagined, with indistinct and in some cases nonexistent boundaries between them all. And I will write, as much as possible, without thinking — without caring if it’s totally true or totally false, if it’s well or “adequately” written, or even whether anyone will understand any or all of it or not. I just want to manure my garden. This is creative writing, people, or my latest stab at it. Don’t take it too seriously — but know, on the other hand, that I’m taking it very seriously — though I’m throwing out my self-written “book” of how to write, for liberty’s and prolificity’s sake. This is an experiment, in the name of Jesus. And despite my nom de blog, I’m not really Jesus — never have been. Jesus is dead, and I can put anything I want — including my would-be literary air craft — into his mouth. This prospect stimulates me.
That’s the disclaimer — time to fly. Stay tuned.
[To read “Jesus Speaks – 2. Christianity,” click here.]