Be My Guest / Spreading The Love / Week 4 / Day 1
sounds shared by Sara Pooley
The Cramps - Bad Music for Bad People - Garbageman
[ ambivalence ]
Original words by Brandon Fields
He sits hunched over, head turned down white knuckling his steering wheel of his pickup, streetlight glowing in his panicked eyelids and reflecting his greasy hair. Still in park, he turned the key in the ignition unable to push the clutch in and unable to think. All he can focus on are the words coming out of the radio. Words that sting like a hornet stuck in his hair stinging repeatedly. The hairs all over his body tinged with shock as he intently listens to the preacher on the radio station already dialed in. Resonating as if directly meant for him. Speaking right at him, and into the bottom of his gut.
“….The most quiet and lonesome times somehow serve as a reminder of a fools folly. The now still vision of a dizzied past lie before you, unspun, as the reality of now.
You have nowhere to run, and you’ve proven that you cant’ hide, as this is but a cycle you run yourself ragged in.
You MUST hold your sins close.
Hold them pressed against your breast in sync with your heart’s beat. Smell them and hold them to your cheek and get to know them intimately.
You must hold your sins tight, directly in front of you at all times. The moment you try and leave them behind is when you will lose track of what is good and right in your life. You will lose sight of what is right for your future my friends. If you try to bury sin and attempt to forget, alas, like nuclear waste improperly disposed of they will seep into the ground water and poison the well.
People often say to forget the past. Well huh, good luck, I say. Folks, I am here today to tell you something other.
A person rarely realizes or acknowledges their sins until they’ve found bottom. They can live on high for some time ecstatic about what they seem to be getting away with. Eager for more. Always for more…”
He sat hunched down in his drivers seat not knowing his next move, not sure of where to go this time. Beads of sweat dripping down the backs of his hands from gripping the wheel so intensely. Despite the 91-degree mark on his rearview mirror he starts to shake with chills. Tears form in his eyes but never break free. This time, after all these years left stuck not knowing.