Chapter the fifth: The Revolution….Sermonized!

Praise be BL to the OG!

The past week has been an extremely bi-polar excursion.  I have to admit I was reaching a valley or a peak or whatever you call the opposite of happy suffering perhaps from Seasonal Affected Disorder or whatever you call the effect of looking at too often for jobs and just seeing internships (too bad I’m not 20 and living with my mom).  Anyways, I tried to perk myself out of wallowing in my think tank on poverty by trying to perceive the gray (inside and out) as a good thing as it helps one to notice the ridiculous things in life (fodder for my writing) that often a shining sun blinds us to and that perhaps I should be thankful to have to look at jobs outside the arts because those cultural jobs seem to be thankless anyway…and on and on I spiraled into my own head trying to figure out how I can still find the energy to live this way and it was just making me angry.

And then, as if the universe was giving me my very own deus ex machina, on Saturday night I found my gay jew-y self, sitting at the Queensway Cathedral, 3rd row centre from an amazing gospel choir.  They brought the house up and down and jumpin’ around and testifyin’ and praisin’ and worshippin’ and cryin’ and I couldn’t have been happier.  No I wasn’t saved from my “heathen” self by the power of Christ (although many were that night) but I did see a glimmer of hope for my continued “career” (I use ersatz quotes so nobody will confuse me with those who actually make money at this) in the arts.  Now I am not religious in any way and while I am unnaturally fascinated with it, I do feel that organized religions are the root cause of most of the turmoil and heartache in the world.  I do consider myself spiritual though and that night I thought I died and gone to some weird heaven. Why?!?!  Well, because the amount of extreme unbridled passion on that stage could have lit up the Honest Ed’s sign for a month.  It was a glorious sight and I couldn’t stop smiling.

It is rare to see that sort of passion on stage and I realized its because, Jesus or not, those jumpin’ Christians were trying to connect with me, not show me how clever they were or how much better they were as people or how great they were but to bring us both collectively, them performers me audience, to a moment of ecstasy and they loved being up there not out of ego but out of joy.  There are so many times I see people on stage who reek of so much hatred or blasé for that stage and/or the work that they are bringing to it, that they take the potential for holy magic out of it.  When you walk onto a stage, if your inner child doesn’t start to giggle from some unexplained feeling, I say, get off the stage!  You’re ruining it for the rest of us.  Remember nobody is forcing you to be an actor/director/playwright/whatever.

God pimped my ride.

Hallelujah! Feel the power! Oh Glory be!

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