Anyway, here I am – having failed to live up to the great task that I found before me. I’m not a saint.
The ones who can do that job – they’re the ones that it's worth crossing the street to shake their hands.
Why, they’re the ones for whom we melt colored glass and then cut it into shapes and make it
into a picture held together with little lead strips – then we put these glass pictures up in the big buildings that we’ve built
so we can get together
and try to
remember what it was we were supposed to be doing.
I saw sainthood and thought . . . how’s the health plan?
I saw sainthood and thought . . . is there a uniform?
I saw sainthood and thought . . . I bet I won’t be allowed to touch my dick.
I saw sainthood and thought . . . I wonder what’s playing down at TLA?
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When I was afraid that I was losing my mind back in 1969 or 1970 I was getting counseling down at the West Phila Mental Health Consortium at 43rd and ? Springfield?
A good counselor named Bob Baumann, I think. (Bill Bauman?) One on one sessions for a while, then into a group – cost efficiency, I suppose. Anyway, it was in one of those group sessions that I think it first came to me – or it had come to me during that time and this was the first time that I expressed it – the idea that God doesn’t exist unless we create him and maintain him through our good works.
There it is: very simple. You be good, you be god. Make good, make god. Don’t do it and there won’t be any. Very simple. If there is any in the world, then someone is making it – heck, maybe a little of it was even made by you. Attaboy!
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