"This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God's glory so that God's Son may be glorified through it." (John 11:4)
It's not very often I start of with a verse from the Bible, however after reflection, the story of Lazarus in the New Testament tells a story of life after death for those of those who believe. Jesus heard that Lazarus was dying and his sisters were asking him to perform one of his miracles. Interestingly, Jesus decided to wait until Lazarus died in order to save him. Normally, he'd heal a leper and no one had to die but J-C was like "whoa guise, wanna see sumtin cool?" He moseyed to Bethany and by that time, Lazarus had been dead for 4 days. Jesus showed his moves to the believers and non-believers and some hotties that were hanging around. That's it end of story, but there's some good questions that weren't asked.
In March of 2014, I started my blog on Squarespace to regale readers with stories of my relationship with alcohol and my relationship with people. Just as the Led Zeppelin song, good times...bad times...you know I've had may share...when my women left home with a brown eyed man...we'll I don't seem to care. Honestly, through all of my drunken chicanery, I didn't care. I didn't care about my own personal welfare. I didn't care about my bank account. I didn't care about the people with whom I was in a relationship. It was about drinks and good times. In 2015, I moved to Portland and I penned my last article on the Squarespace site and I just let the subscription lapse into the Internet ether. Lazarus died.
No one ever stopped to ask Lazarus what death felt like. I scribbled notes as I attempted to revive the feelings of catharsis as I tried to recall those hazy, brown out memories. I definitely made new ones. Nothing ever came of it. My friend and I have been trying to get a project off the ground and that felt good. The embers were still there but they were dying without oxygen. Depending on your views, there may or may not be an afterlife. There's people who claim there is one after near-fatal incidents but what can be attributed to the release of dimethyltryptamine or DMT for short. It's a neurotransmitter that releases after a severe injury to placate the body in its terminal moments. Then there's Lazarus. This guy was dead for 4 days! See anything cool? Did you go to heaven or hell? Was it dark?
Let's assume that Lazarus was in a beclouded palace, serene and placid. At the behest of his sisters, Jesus ripped Lazarus out of that and shat him back into this meager and bleak existence. Wouldn't that be selfish of the sisters? Play your cards right and childbirth or any other myriad of ancient disease would kill them both. They'd be playing beach volleyball in heaven in 10 years tops. For selfish reasons, I'm pulling ADP out of the Internet ether into the think-world of the Intertubes. I still have to flesh out my relationships with booze and with people and also with myself.
A man needs a project. I love to drink a bowl of loudmouth soup and tell you how I feel about the world and for the next year, this is my outlet. Oddly enough, I'm writing this sober for some reason. Too lazy to get a 6 pack I reckon. I'll also be doing a 30 minute stream-of-consciousness podcast, probably drunk with an axe to grind. It's also on the docket to do a "Serious Do'" article about something in politics or society that I want to express. Maybe I'll make some shit for you to buy.
This sickness will not end in death though. "There is nothing more powerful than an idea whose time as come." -Victor Hugo
