My insides are in a constant state of debate(anarchy really). Let me illustrate that. If a vein in my arm is pumping one side of an argument, the capillary next to it is trying it’s damnedest to throttle the heck out of that poor bugger’s opinion.

Trying to live a life without God is like going to a cocktail party with a rip in your dress, or shoes with uneven heels. It’s like having to eat Nandos food for a week. It’s like waking up and finding your book collection teeming with mutant cockroaches, that are sawing through precious pages by the second. Mortification, despair, discomfort and rage respectively.

It’s waking up every day and being kissed by guilt and self-loathing for every single thing that you’ve done wrong, every freaking mistake you’ve been stupid enough to make-and I don’t mean those petty cat-pissy misdemeanors like stealing from your father’s liquor stash or telling a practical stranger your best friend’s secrets.

I mean those thundering bastards that kill parts of your spirit, infuse you with a horrible ennui, sap your will to be a better person and superglue a saddle of remorse to your back. Those ones that cause your heart to BOOM whenever they come within thinking distance, the ones you might find yourself uncontrollably blubbing about while seated on a speaker next to DJ TUMZ.

I’m telling you, man. It’s not pretty trying to go about things alone.

However, the decision’s a bitch. Y’know, Implementing the decision you’ve made to revisit your relationship with the head Sky Spirit.  First of all you start to feel the need for change.You’re all of a sudden uncomfortable with cursing and are constantly trying to invent new word combinations to use in the place of the wonderfully apt but discomfiting trio- shit, hell and fuck. This is not an easy thing if your mouth has been filthy so long, it’s as messy as the average ugandan kidney.  Nandos! Louis! and Tizz! Just don’t cut it as replacements.

Secondly, your weedstash demands attention. The fat herb sticks grin at you, waggle their eyebrows and ask, ‘what now?’ Kush, this is wasup. I’m not going to flush you. I’m not a philistine. You’re going to be used, every single stick because in my personalized covenant with the SKY CAT, kush is the ish :).

Third in line is your bombastic collection of fishnets. Fishnets, get ready to meet a couple of new dress tops. That’s the solution. Longer dress-tops! Hee.

Now if like me, your heroes are all either agnostic or atheist, things can get shitty. I don’t want to ascribe to a creed that has sent Douglas Adams to hell. What the tizz, man. If like me, some parts of your Bible seem awfully ridiculous and some of your pastor’s opinions make you want to walk up to him and spit on his forehead, you’re in a muddle alright.

Somewhere along the path to adulthood, at about 17, something convinced us that decadence was cool. That the more shockingly bad we were, the smarter, nicer, more desirable we’d be in the eyes of whoever we were trying to impress at the time. To be fair, this held good for a while.

The problem with decadence is that it’s…dirt, whichever way you look at it. In the end, its grime and the human’s instinctive reaction to dirt is to maybe wallow in it for a bit; then to exclaim, ‘Shit, man. Pheeeeuw. What is that smell? Can’t be me, can it? Nooo!’ Then to cringe, barf a little and finally, to clean it up.

Lady sinister is sick to death of trying in her feeble human way to ignore the shit stains on her life-canvas. It’s not necessary to wade through a dirt filled existence when you can solicit the help of a bigger force and be blessed with relief and peace of mind.

So, baby steps. First, forgiveness (which is coming along very nicely). Next, the invention of expletives that are better suited to this new way that I’m trying very hard to be.


About Miz. Kyrte

I read, I write, I love. My favorite quote is: We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing. Bukowski, baby! Extremes ;-)

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Permalink 24 Comments

24 responses to “Head SKYSPIRIT

  1. hmmmm, I am very suspicious of this new Mildred. Have you been visited by alien bodysnatchers lately?

    The god I talk to in the middle of the night does not have a problem with shit, fuck, cunt, ass, bitch, motherfucker, bastard or fishnets (better get them all out there before you start censoring your blog). I think making peace with your religion is about priorities. What is it about your religion that you value the most? Is it superficial things like your mode of expression or the mind-altering substances you use to get high and by? Or is it the deeper stuff like the way you treat those which society would tell you are inferior, or your end goal in this wierdwackywonderful pursuit we call life?

    Do you choose and mold your religion because some big dude in the sky is going to give you a gold star if you follow what is said in some ancient and largely obsolete book? Or because you want to squuuueeeeezzzee all of the juicy goodness out of this life which may be all that we get.

    My 2 motherfucking cents.

    • ‘Religion’ has nothing to do with this. My relationship with the Head SkySprit, the super sky cat is unlike anybody else’s and that’s how I think it should be for everybody. Religious groupings seek to confine people to preordained rules, which just sucks. Every relationship with this guy has to be highly personalized for it to make sense.
      So while he and I will be working on my potty mouth, the two of you will probably be trying to break Stephen Fry’s record for most ingenious curser in the multiverse.

      I think that I have lived in almost every way that there is to live (if there are others, I really don’t wan’t to tizzing know!), bolted through practically every extreme and I’m positive that the point at which I’m at is the best so far. Best believe that this is all about me, not some collection of fancy stories written by dudes who were probably as kushed-up as i’m going to be tonight.

      Also, what might seem ‘superficial’ to you may hold an enormous amount of significance for(to?) me / the way I’ve been. Fishnets might be my way of coping with…death or something. We should get kushed up and talk some more.

  2. Exx Ace

    Actually head sky spirit is more understanding than most of these freakin masqueraders try to portray him (according to The Shack). Onwards, onwards and don’t look back.

  3. Exx Ace

    *portray HIM as 😀

  4. No need blaming masqueraders when you can know God for yourself. Thank them even for the much they tell you about God. Actually every thing you may have heard about God from masqueraders is true, but some may be out of context.

    Peace. And yeah, there is a difference between goodspeak and malspeak. One has life written all over it, the other….well…


    • Oh no you don’t. Many people try their damnedest to make you believe that their way is the only way. For somebody just starting to forge a meaningful relationship with the Head sky spirit, this makes things extra extra frustrating (and sets an intimidatingly high bar). I’m grateful to everybody who’s nudged me onto the path that i am on,but i don’t like zee masqueraders very much.
      Yay HeadSkySpirit speak.

  5. The God of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Sometimes Jehovah/YWVH. The I AM.

  6. You will get there… but seriously, please do not use the LolCat Bible, lol, and in a serious way… hehe

  7. petesmama

    What gets me is that at 17, when I knew that I was smart and funny and all those things you have to be when you are not drop dead gorgeous, I was taught that I had to also be a potty mouthed atheist bitch to be really cool. That my intelligence, charm and wit would not fly without the bad gyal image. Lies, all lies.

    I have rediscovered my Father and I am happier, sexier and more at peace and more relevant than ever before. Trying to unlearn my erroneous notions of cool now, because I realise God gave me everything I ever needed to be superfly.

    God speed on your way to reconnecting.

    • Thanks Petesmama!! Lady Sinister’s grin right now is so fat, she’s probably sprained a cheek.
      You’ve made it clear in her head that contrary to her dark imaginings, she’s not going to turn into a boring lump of mediocrity as a result of her trying to shed the filthymouth-atheist-slut-bitch-streetfighter facade she’s been trying to fill out for so long.

      Thank you. This girl is an even bigger fan than she was before(If such a thing is possible.)

      This can work.

  8. first time here ….:-)

    and i think i will be back;-)

  9. Oh shuddup. For you when did you last blog? Lemme go check.


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