Well, the mascot at University of Dallas was, in fact, "The Crusaders." No joke. So, after spending a somewhat miserable year there and making the Dean's List (take it like the nastiest John Hagee sermon, Whore of Babylon!), I am cruising down the taxiway of DFW Int. for the last time. All of my credits except for the Bible shit transferred without incident to Portland State University, so I'll be there in about 6 hours.
This is almost on par with getting married. Everything familiar about my life is over (including Starbucks, also occasionally called "Whore of Babylon" by those Dallas TBN types.)

On a side note, I think maybe these people tend to just attach the moniker "Whore of Babylon" to whatever happens to presently annoy the fuck out of them.

Stephanie has had to call me out so many times, admonishing me to look in front of me and embrace the idea that I am going somewhere on this airplane - not leaving Texas. I have to leave her behind in Irving/Tyler for a month, so that she can ride up here with what little stuff we haven't sold in her parents' RV (they're buying the gas because they are exquisite people, and because they have business to do in Portland anyway). I have to start making money at this new job and square away university paperwork and find us a place to live. So, the brightest force of creativity and healing on the whole earth is still there in Dallas. This is a good thing, because if she wasn't, then with my mind I would be burning the place as flat as it was 200 years ago.

I'm afraid that sooner rather than later it is going to burn anyway - the impending change of national political climate, while mostly a positive thing, methinks will only serve to exacerbate the troubles brewing in that epicenter of ethically bankrupt corporate Amerika and asshole "evangelism" riddled with its good intentions (they feed each other, make no mistake)...

...but it's...

Well, the mascot at University of Dallas was, in fact, "The Crusaders." No joke. So, after spending a somewhat miserable year there and making the Dean's List (take it like the nastiest John Hagee sermon, Whore of Babylon!), I am cruising down the taxiway of DFW Int. for the last time. All of my credits except for the Bible shit transferred without incident to Portland State University, so I'll be there in about 6 hours.
This is almost on par with getting married. Everything familiar about my life is over (including Starbucks, also occasionally called "Whore of Babylon" by those Dallas TBN types.)

On a side note, I think maybe these people tend to just attach the moniker "Whore of Babylon" to whatever happens to presently annoy the fuck out of them.

Stephanie has had to call me out so many times, admonishing me to look in front of me and embrace the idea that I am going somewhere on this airplane - not leaving Texas. I have to leave her behind in Irving/Tyler for a month, so that she can ride up here with what little stuff we haven't sold in her parents' RV (they're buying the gas because they are exquisite people, and because they have business to do in Portland anyway). I have to start making money at this new job and square away university paperwork and find us a place to live. So, the brightest force of creativity and healing on the whole earth is still there in Dallas. This is a good thing, because if she wasn't, then with my mind I would be burning the place as flat as it was 200 years ago.

I'm afraid that sooner rather than later it is going to burn anyway - the impending change of national political climate, while mostly a positive thing, methinks will only serve to exacerbate the troubles brewing in that epicenter of ethically bankrupt corporate Amerika and asshole "evangelism" riddled with its good intentions (they feed each other, make no mistake)...

...but it's not my place to become complicit in that shitstorm by wasting my hate on them. Here is the worst thing that I can imagine happening to a person: he utters a curse on someone/something, and then the curse works. Fuck that; I don't even have time for it. I am a beam of light whizzing toward a singularity at the speed of my soul, and that stuff is nothing but a bunch of indiscernible colors zipping by.

Will you caulk your wagon and float down the Columbia? Fucking A, with all my heart.