it begins with a shower.

All good things, truly, begin with a shower,

and if you beg to differ,

I beg you go away.

Anyway, I clumsily step into the shower, vulnerable,

kinda smelly,

and wondering about the things in life

we never see nude.

I look up to my blistered, moist bathroom ceiling,

and begin to start an email to god.

A composition that I can't really edit,

because he always sees it before it's done.

Oh. It's He? HE always sees it before it's done?

Whatever.

One thing I've never understood about God is that

we gotta capitalize His pronoun. I am not a fan.

I'm a fan of grammatically correct nonsense

that doesn't do anything

for anyone else I know.

So we gotta respect the faith, right?

Respect the fact that there's one big steak of

juicy love up there, and we all get a piece.

Haha, now you're imagining God as a rib-eye.

We must capitalize everything that has to do with Him,

pretty much.

Now, obviously, there are jerks who do jerkish things

and study jerkology for a living.

But I also know a lot of people who super duper respect God,

and all He has to offer.

When you say His name, you are absolutely forced to say

“awe.”

I don't know if they planned it that way, but they did a

fantastic job.

Kudos.

Another thing I'm scratching my head about is as to why

people insist on not believing in Him.

Okay, so He's desperate. He made the tangible form of imperfection,

and called it a “human”.

He made some of us different colors, some of us with

totally different mind-sets,

and then he made those fags.

Gosh darn those gay people,

with their love and passion for people and peace.

Gosh.

God made Imperfection to keep Him company.

Something like that.

Meanwhile we is a'killin' each other wiff

our stress, bombs, and Hummers.

I don't know about you, but it's way easier to blame

global chaos on Hummers.

Forget SUV's, semi trucks, and hoverboards.

God has His own agenda.

What always grinds my gears, is that

like,

if people want something, they tell God about it.

And then if it doesn't happen,

OH NOES.

He obviously must not exist. He obviously

does not care about you because

you watched that porno the other night.

I hear kittens die from that though. Watch out.

One thing I've figured out after all these

years of doubt and Imperfection,

is that if you love something,

anything,

any thing, person, idea, place, verb, word, mode of transportation, feeling, song, drum solo, pen, make up kit, bar of soap, day of the year, day of the week, day of your life, sound, disco light pattern, beat boxing rhythm, candy cane, teddy bear, fruit, secret recipe, poet, credit card debt (you is crazy), name, candle, planner, cell phone, text message, online nerdy game that nobody knows you play but you play anyway because it's still great, font, animal, presidential candidate, TV show, blog site, search engine, pair of binoculars, pair of shoes, warm towels, language, sweatshirt, list of things you love, laughter, hop-scotch, four-square, Guitar Hero, movie, chess board, blankee, cd, soundtrack, I-Pod playlist, cute fuzz-ball with googly eyes, subject in school, pay check, bass duet, sexy jazz album, country, city, state, county, street name, exit sign, any penguin that you know the name of, or shower you've ever taken--

that is an excellent indicator that God is real.