121507

                                                                                                       San Antonio, TX

Saturday December 15, 2007

     9:48am  I got six and a half hours of sleep last night. Today's Saturday. I have to go to work today. I was on the computer a little bit this morning and I cleaned up the kitchen. I'm going to work. I have to go fly my sign on Fredericksburg and 410. I have permission there.

     12:30pm  I have to make an update. My mom came home and she was able to give me a ride to the Walmart. She gave me a couple bucks for busfare. Some quarters, sweet.

     1:01pm  I just got to the hospital. Page 377, 94 of Angels and Demons. The speech given by the camerlango about Science and Religion. Be sure to copy that:


94

Sitting in the Sistine Chapel among his stunned colleagues, Cardinal Mortati tried to comprehend the words he was hearing. Before him, lit only by the candlelight, the camerlegno had just told a tale of such hatred and treachery that Mortati found himself trembling. The camerlegno spoke of kidnapped cardinals, branded cardinals, murdered cardinals. He spoke of the ancient Illuminati—a name that dredged up forgotten fears—and of their resurgence and vow of revenge against the church. With pain in his voice, the camerlegno spoke of his late Pope . . . the victim of an Illuminati poisoning. And finally, his words almost a whisper, he spoke of a deadly new technology, antimatter, which in less than two hours threatened to destroy all of Vatican City.

When he was through, it was as if Satan himself had sucked the air from the room. Nobody could move. The camerlegno’s words hung in the darkness.

The only sound Mortati could now hear was the anomalous hum of a television camera in back—an electronic presence no conclave in history had ever endured—but a presence demanded by the camerlegno. To the utter astonishment of the cardinals, the camerlegno had entered the Sistine Chapel with two BBC reporters—a man and a woman—and announced that they would be transmitting his solemn statement, live to the world.

Now, speaking directly to the camera, the camerlegno stepped forward. “To the Illuminati,” he said, his voice deepening, “and to those of science, let me say this.” He paused. “You have won the war.”

The silence spread now to the deepest corners of the chapel. Mortati could hear the desperate thumping of his own heart.

“The wheels have been in motion for a long time,” the camerlegno said. “Your victory has been inevitable. Never before has it been as obvious as it is at this moment. Science is the new God.”

What is he saying! Mortati thought. Has he gone mad? The entire world is hearing this!

“Medicine, electronic communications, space travel, genetic manipulation . . . these are the miracles about which we now tell our children. These are the miracles we herald as proof that science will bring us the answers. The ancient stories of immaculate conceptions, burning bushes, and parting seas are no longer relevant. God has become obsolete. Science has won the battle. We concede.”

A rustle of confusion and bewilderment swept through the chapel.

“But science’s victory,” the camerlegno added, his voice intensifying, “has cost every one of us. And it has cost us deeply.”

Silence.

“Science may have alleviated the miseries of disease and drudgery and provided an array of gadgetry for our entertainment and convenience, but it has left us in a world without wonder. Our sunsets have been reduced to wavelengths and frequencies. The complexities of the universe have been shredded into mathematical equations. Even our self-worth as human beings has been destroyed. Science proclaims that Planet Earth and its inhabitants are a meaningless speck in the grand scheme. A cosmic accident.” He paused. “Even the technology that promises to unite us, divides us. Each of us is now electronically connected to the globe, and yet we feel utterly alone. We are bombarded with violence, division, fracture, and betrayal. Skepticism has become a virtue. Cynicism and demand for proof has become enlightened thought. Is it any wonder that humans now feel more depressed and defeated than they have at any point in human history? Does science hold anything sacred? Science looks for answers by probing our unborn fetuses. Science even presumes to rearrange our own DNA. It shatters God’s world into smaller and smaller pieces in quest of meaning . . . and all it finds is more questions.”

Mortati watched in awe. The camerlegno was almost hypnotic now. He had a physical strength in his movements and voice that Mortati had never witnessed on a Vatican altar. The man’s voice was wrought with conviction and sadness.

“The ancient war between science and religion is over,” the camerlegno said. “You have won. But you have not won fairly. You have not won by providing answers. You have won by so radically reorienting our society that the truths we once saw as signposts now seem inapplicable. Religion cannot keep up. Scientific growth is exponential. It feeds on itself like a virus. Every new breakthrough opens doors for new breakthroughs. Mankind took thousands of years to progress from the wheel to the car. Yet only decades from the car into space. Now we measure scientific progress in weeks. We are spinning out of control. The rift between us grows deeper and deeper, and as religion is left behind, people find themselves in a spiritual void. We cry out for meaning. And believe me, we do cry out. We see UFOs, engage in channeling, spirit contact, out-of-body experiences, mindquests—all these eccentric ideas have a scientific veneer, but they are unashamedly irrational. They are the desperate cry of the modern soul, lonely and tormented, crippled by its own enlightenment and its inability to accept meaning in anything removed from technology.”

Mortati could feel himself leaning forward in his seat. He and the other cardinals and people around the world were hanging on this priest’s every utterance. The camerlegno spoke with no rhetoric or vitriol. No references to scripture or Jesus Christ. He spoke in modern terms, unadorned and pure. Somehow, as though the words were flowing from God himself, he spoke the modern language . . . delivering the ancient message. In that moment, Mortati saw one of the reasons the late Pope held this young man so dear. In a world of apathy, cynicism, and technological deification, men like the camerlegno, realists who could speak to our souls like this man just had, were the church’s only hope.

The camerlegno was talking more forcefully now. “Science, you say, will save us. Science, I say, has destroyed us. Since the days of Galileo, the church has tried to slow the relentless march of science, sometimes with misguided means, but always with benevolent intention. Even so, the temptations are too great for man to resist. I warn you, look around yourselves. The promises of science have not been kept. Promises of efficiency and simplicity have bred nothing but pollution and chaos. We are a fractured and frantic species . . . moving down a path of destruction.”

The camerlegno paused a long moment and then sharpened his eyes on the camera.

“Who is this God science? Who is the God who offers his people power but no moral framework to tell you how to use that power? What kind of God gives a child fire but does not warn the child of its dangers? The language of science comes with no signposts about good and bad. Science textbooks tell us how to create a nuclear reaction, and yet they contain no chapter asking us if it is a good or a bad idea.

“To science, I say this. The church is tired. We are exhausted from trying to be your signposts. Our resources are drying up from our campaign to be the voice of balance as you plow blindly on in your quest for smaller chips and larger profits. We ask not why you will not govern yourselves, but how can you? Your world moves so fast that if you stop even for an instant to consider the implications of your actions, someone more efficient will whip past you in a blur. So you move on. You proliferate weapons of mass destruction, but it is the Pope who travels the world beseeching leaders to use restraint. You clone living creatures, but it is the church reminding us to consider the moral implications of our actions. You encourage people to interact on phones, video screens, and computers, but it is the church who opens its doors and reminds us to commune in person as we were meant to do. You even murder unborn babies in the name of research that will save lives. Again, it is the church who points out the fallacy of this reasoning.

“And all the while, you proclaim the church is ignorant. But who is more ignorant? The man who cannot define lightning, or the man who does not respect its awesome power? This church is reaching out to you. Reaching out to everyone. And yet the more we reach, the more you push us away. Show me proof there is a God, you say. I say use your telescopes to look to the heavens, and tell me how there could not be a God!” The camerlegno had tears in his eyes now. “You ask what does God look like. I say, where did that question come from? The answers are one and the same. Do you not see God in your science? How can you miss Him! You proclaim that even the slightest change in the force of gravity or the weight of an atom would have rendered our universe a lifeless mist rather than our magnificent sea of heavenly bodies, and yet you fail to see God’s hand in this? Is it really so much easier to believe that we simply chose the right card from a deck of billions? Have we become so spiritually bankrupt that we would rather believe in mathematical impossibility than in a power greater than us?

“Whether or not you believe in God,” the camerlegno said, his voice deepening with deliberation, “you must believe this. When we as a species abandon our trust in the power greater than us, we abandon our sense of accountability. Faith . . . all faiths . . . are admonitions that there is something we cannot understand, something to which we are accountable . . . With faith we are accountable to each other, to ourselves, and to a higher truth. Religion is flawed, but only because man is flawed. If the outside world could see this church as I do . . . looking beyond the ritual of these walls . . . they would see a modern miracle . . . a brotherhood of imperfect, simple souls wanting only to be a voice of compassion in a world spinning out of control.”

The camerlegno motioned out over the College of Cardinals, and the BBC camerawoman instinctively followed, panning the crowd.

“Are we obsolete?” the camerlegno asked. “Are these men dino-saurs? Am I? Does the world really need a voice for the poor, the weak, the oppressed, the unborn child? Do we really need souls like these who, though imperfect, spend their lives imploring each of us to read the signposts of morality and not lose our way?”

Mortati now realized that the camerlegno, whether consciously or not, was making a brilliant move. By showing the cardinals, he was personalizing the church. Vatican City was no longer a building, it was people—people like the camerlegno who had spent their lives in the service of goodness.

“Tonight we are perched on a precipice,” the camerlegno said. “None of us can afford to be apathetic. Whether you see this evil as Satan, corruption, or immorality . . . the dark force is alive and growing every day. Do not ignore it.” The camerlegno lowered his voice to a whisper, and the camera moved in. “The force, though mighty, is not invincible. Goodness can prevail. Listen to your hearts. Listen to God. Together we can step back from this abyss.”

Now Mortati understood. This was the reason. Conclave had been violated, but this was the only way. It was a dramatic and desperate plea for help. The camerlegno was speaking to both his enemy and his friends now. He was entreating anyone, friend or foe, to see the light and stop this madness. Certainly someone listening would realize the insanity of this plot and come forward.

The camerlegno knelt at the altar. “Pray with me.”

The College of Cardinals dropped to their knees to join him in prayer. Outside in St. Peter’s Square and around the globe . . . a stunned world knelt with them.

     1:31pm  I just got off the bus at 410 and Fredericksburg. I'm going to fly my sign. I've got permission to fly there. I am just an anti-war protester, damnit. That's all.

     1:47pm  I just got a five dollar bill! This dude told me,  "I love your sign."  Hell yeah! Nickel sack!
                  
     2:54pm  I am about done flying my sign.

     2:59pm  Hell yeah! I walked over to the bus stop. See, right when I got out there with my sign some dude tossed me a little pinner. After I decided to stop I walked over to the bus stop and tore the paper and put the weed in my little container. I took a hit and all of a sudden this Kens 5 News van pulls up behind me. This guy gets out and tells me, "I saw your sign." I asked him if he had time for a really interesting story and he said, "I was going to ask you if I could do an interview." I told him, "It's more of a presentation." Dude, I got to tell my story on camera! It was really windy and loud but he was holding a big microphone. I didn't do the Odyssey, but I told him the important part. His name is Jason and he agreed with me through the whole thing. He said he was going to try to get it on the news! He was going to show his bosses. I told him I doubt they will put it on the air, that the revolution won't be televised. But hey, a reporter from the news channel is going to read my website! I am totally infecting San Antonio with my presence! Hell yeah!

                   I took his picture and everything. Jason. I might be on the news! Fuck the system! It was all windy and loud. I was all high, hehe. I'm going to be everywhere pretty soon.

                   Now I'm going to go to The Riverwalk and fly my sign down there. I could just walk, but screw it. I'll ride the bus. It's cold today. Actually, the sun is out, but it's really windy so the chill is strong. I am glad I brought all the layers I brought. I look like a bum. I'm wearing that warm plaid shirt I got in Ventura a long time ago. It's got tears in it and stuff and looks old. The wind was too much for my wig so I was out there letting my dreads fly around in the wind. I got a courtesy ride on the 92. At first he was all, "How many times are you going to do this to me??" I told him, "Come on, I'm writing a book." He waved me on. Dude, that driver hasn't given me a ride in years.

     3:49pm  I was just sitting there on the bus stoned and happy with the biggest grin on my face. I'm really glad that guy had hooked me up with that pinner. Today has turned out badass.

     4:04pm  I am downtown. Just got off on Martin. I had a good time on the bus. I pulled my sign out and handed out my webpage. This lady with a baby got on the bus and I put my clown wig on. At first the baby was all sore, but as soon as I put my wig on she was all smiles and started talking to me. She loved it.

                   I'm going to go to The Riverwalk, muhahaha.

     5:05pm  I went down to The Riverwalk holding my sign and passing out my website. I passed by that place where that girl Elizabeth works, right before Rivercenter Mall. I stopped there and got to tell her friends my story. I go right outside to smoke a cigarette and up walks a Park Policeman. He goes in the store and talks to Elizabeth and them. I had left my sign in there so when I was done with my cigarette I went in there and said, "I left my marijuana sign." Right in front of the cop! I grabbed it and walked out of there. I paused a little past it to adjust my bag and that cops walks up to me, "I got calls about you. I better not see you flying that sign on The Riverwalk again or I'm going to book you for it." I told him, "Alright, whatever."

     5:38pm  I came to Travis Park. A big fight broke out with crutches. I decided I'm going to go home now.

                   Oh wait, false alarm. The driver wasn't being generous. He's a greedy ass. Just drop me off at the next stop. Oh well, I was just testing you.

                   I thought I had scored a courtesy ride, but I didn't. He waved me on real quick so I thought he was cool, that maybe he recognized me and knew I always bummed rides. I sat down and he turned around and said, "That'll be a dollar." I even have a dollar, but I don't want to pay for a ride. I just told him to drop me off.  I rather walk than pay a dollar.

     6:17pm  I didn't tell you. At Travis Park I asked this dude if he would sell me a nickel sack and he told me that they sell it down the street. Where? Over at Lucky's on Commerce. I walked down to Commerce and I never found Lucky's, but I saw some thug looking dudes and asked them if they knew where I could score a nickel. I scored me a little dimebag for six bucks! Perfect. I walked a little more and thought I want to smoke it, but I need to pick out the seeds and stems, clean it. I need a public bathroom. I walked by the NIX hospital and went, "Oh yeah! I can go in here on the sixth floor." So that's what I did. I went in the bathroom and pulled out my frisbee and scissors and got my weed ready. I'm leaving now. Wait, let me go back in the bathroom and do a paranoid-check. The toilet was all clogged. Not that I had to use the toilet or anything. Well, just to sit on. I'm going to go get a courtesy ride now. Just you watch. Now do you see how I wasn't meant to get the courtesy ride earlier? I still had some weed to get downtown. I just didn't know it yet. Some guy had given me five bucks when I was flying my sign earlier. Some kid. He told me he loved my sign. I gave him my website. I can't wait to check all the visits when I get home.

     6:38pm  Man, nobody is giving me a courtesy ride tonight. I should tell them, "Why not? Are you scared? That's a good little slave. Be afraid."

     6:42pm  Finally, somebody gave me a courtesy ride. The 91 driver is hooking me up. I appreciate it, brother. Actually, it turns out I'm going to West Telemarketing and walk the seven miles home from there.

     7:39pm  I am West Telemarketing. I'm going to walk the seven miles home. Let's see if I get hooked up at the Pizza Hut on Babcock and Prue.

     8:19pm  I just walked Prue to Babcock. I'm going to go hit up the Pizza Hut.

     8:22pm  No mistakes at the Pizza Hut. I'm just going to walk it. It's like five miles. I think it's five miles. It might be a little less. I'm going to cut through the woods, OP Schnabel. I've got weed so I'm going to go smoke at my platform for sure.

     8:42pm  I walked Prue Road and I just got to Leon Creek. I'm going to walk the creek into OP Schnabel. I'm going to go smoke at my hideout. Then I'll walk up Braun Road home.

                   Let me just recap how glorious today was. I went straight to The Riverwalk after I got interviewed and flew my sign down there. I walked all the way to that store where I met that girl a long time ago. I told her friends my story. They were impressed and thought it was interesting. Then the Park Policeman warned me if I flew my sign down there he was going to book me for it. Little does he know I friggin' want them to. I should've told him, "Man, don't you know who I am?" Everybody was taking my picture on The Riverwalk. There were people lining up to take my picture, I swear. Every time I go there I get documented lots. One guy took like four or five pictures of me.

                   I love that Ingram pic I have. It just screams San Antonio. You can see the street name in the background and everything.

     9:39pm  I just popped out on Bandera. It's awesome how my watch is still working. I found this watch in a dumpster in Boulder, Colorado way over a year ago.

                   Earlier when I made that entry about my badass day I was already on my platform. I'm almost home now. I just popped out on Bandera not too long ago.

     9:58pm  Ha, I was walking down Wickersham passing Beowulf and I saw all these high school kids. I walked up to them and asked them, "Hey, you guys have seen me walking around before, right? Check out my website, it's free." I handed it to them and said, "World peace through marijuana." This one kid said, "Hell yeah, man! I love you."

                   Tomorrow will be a cleaning and typing day. I've got some typing fuel.

     10:06pm  The eagle has landed.

     12:48am  I am going to bed now. I had such a marvelous day today.

                     Oh, did I tell you? An IRC Network Admin signed my guestbook:

Date: 2007-12-15 14:23:59
Name: Version
Email: Version@absurd-irc.net
Number: 156

You spammed my IRC network, but i like your site so i spammed it everywhere as hard as possible

                 Hell yeah!  Spam for peace!

                 Travis Park at night.

Next day..