Now that the world has ended.

[Glenn Scheper]

Part 5.

Revelation 9:11-16 turns the focus to the male.
Let me jump to 13, "clothed with a vesture dipped
in block", and describe that specific preparation
that was perhaps a day prior to the other events
of this section. Let's see... Friday night was
the big push for Honda, Thursday I rented the
motel room, Wednesday would be this 9:11-16, so
the following part must have been Tuesday night:
There's hardly a night I wasn't at either the
bikini bar or on some other tantric adventure.

Like that night of the honey and suntan lotion
(when I had typed too long to you guys to make
it to the bar), this night I drove in a circle
surrounding that establishment. As I was about
to brew a last coffee before setting out on my
escapades, an imperious male voice in my head
said "I want tea." and I said, well, I'll just
drain the rest of this cup first, and he said,
"If you do, I will kill you." so I immediately
spat that mouthful back in my cup, and started
to make a cup of tea. He said, "make it with
urine." So okay, I've experimented with urine
before. And I brewed up one god-awful tasting
cup of tea, and set out. He said, "don't set
it down" and, "hold it in your (left, right?)
hand." Left I think, for I was able to smoke
with my right hand, driving the best I could.

At one point, I considered, maybe I don't have
to drink all of it. The response was loud and
insistent: "If you don't, I will slaughter you."
So as I was thinking of "take this cup from me"
I realize that Paul's record that Jesus prayed
unto blood, although I've read it interpreted
as a medical possibility that he sweat blood,
it was rather, this cup. Or, comparing again
the blood/urine association, perhaps He could
have had to drink a cup of actual human blood.
Soon enough, we'll get together to discuss it.

Sipping and driving, I stopped at a red light,
and heard, "Take two sips" and I did. And he
said, "This is the dividing line." Now I find
urine tea is pretty nauseating, and I said,
Lord, I don't want to vomit. If I vomit all
over myself, I'm not going in the bar. By the
time I got to the vicinity, I knew I had to
vomit. So I drove past, and deciding to come
home, got out on a freeway onramp, holding
the unfinished cup as commanded, and managed
a weak wretching beside the car. Then I was
able to finish the cup and vomited some more.
And he said, "This is the limit." (boundary).

Well, it filled my sinuses until I am sure it
came out my eyes. Clearly it was a necessary
anti-semen cleansing ritual for the days to
follow.

So I said all that, for what is the vesture?
It is what clothes the genitals, like Adam's
fig leaf, whatever exactly that really was.
Wednesday, I used my vesture dipped in blood.

I tire. As I prepare to post, I stepped out
to smoke. It was thought "Smoke one for me."
Pondering how, it occurred to me to take a
big drag and blow it into my exhaust pipe.
Well, it only compressed and came back out.
Which reminds me to say the intricacies of
the engine force a one-way flow, like time;
like the womb only permits pro-creation,
or like a cig is like a word, destruction
itself, even as it is being spoken/smoked.

Yours truly,
Glenn Scheper
http://home.earthlink.net/~glenn_scheper/
glenn_scheper + at + earthlink.net
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