I worry...

I worry...

I worry that my cool, aloof nature is disappearing into an NPR haze of concern.

I worry that my ability to identify with both Republicans and Democrats on some issues may leave me and I'll become one of those Lyndon LaRouche wackos.

I worry that my hatred of the intolerant masses may lead my to becoming a silent leader of my own intolerant masses.

I worry that I can't tell if passing the 40 year mark is the half way point, or closer to a third of the way through.

And then all at once I stop worrying. I look into the face of God, into the face of a child, into the eyes of my true love, or I tear up, in laughter, having watched "Family Guy."

And then... I wonder, which is real, the laughter or the worry .

I wonder...

a guy gets possessed, and...

I'm writing this story about a guy that gets possessed. What do I know about possession?

Well I can't tell you, I'm writing a story about it. You'll have to read it when I'm done.

What I will tell you is this.

It's as if I am running to catch the edge of some truth as I write this story, like something I am afraid to admit to myself or to you.

Or maybe that's how everyone feels. Maybe everyone feels like there is something living inside them, something that must get out.

From The Gospel According to Thomas (Gospel of what? You'll have to go look it up yourself, or maybe you're living it)

"Jesus said, "If you bring forth what is within you, what you have will save you. If you do not have that within you, what you do not have within you [will] kill you."

Maybe that's everyone, everyday, I don't know. We'll just have to wait and see.