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JWR 3.50 - In Purgatory's Shadow


Adam and Eve should have been proud.  Original Sin was what got them thrown out of the Garden of Eden; the Garden, which has never been located or proven to exist (unless you have faith, which still isnít proof; itís faith), which every people of the world claim was in their respective land.  Adam and Eve should have been proud because they were probably the last to do anything original.  And since they were the very first people, every new thing they did was original.  They were the original people.  They were the coolest motherfuckers alive.


Then came Original Sin.  And since there was just the two of them, itís pretty easy to narrow down which of them committed Original Sin originally, itís one or the other.  If you put stock into Dan Brownís version of why the Bible is written the way it is, you would think of course it was Eve who first committed Original Sin because she is a she.


I guess we fast forward six thousand years later, well beyond Adam and Eveís children trying to kill each other, and you get me writing, but not on tablets of stone, chiseling tiny pieces from the bulk, not dipping a feather into an ink well and scratching away on parchment, not at a moveable press with ink stains on every finger, and not even with a French Bic disposable pen between the tips of my thumb, index and middle fingers.  I press keys and the letters simply appear on an illuminated flat screen thinner than a paperback copy of Slaughterhouse Five.  I donít have to pay attention to the length of the line and manually slam the paper down to the next line; I donít have to worry about spelling or syntax because those corrections will be made for me and if I catch something missed later on, I can go back and fix it without redoing the entire page.  I donít need to print it out to give to someone; I can just email it exactly as it is, an attachment to an email.  I can FTP it to you; I can post it to the Internet Superhighway.  I can send it to a billion people and six will read it.


When Iím gone, there will never be another me.  Take your time and decide if thatís a good thing or not.  I have my doubtsÖand itís me.


Our fathers fought and died in Vietnam.  Their fathers fought and died in World War II.  What have we done?  Is anyone going to remember the call I made to a company today or the flyer I created?


Cain killed Abel, stuck him in the neck with a fish bone.


Iíve never killed either of my brothers, although I did throw a chunk of tree bark at one and nearly hit him in the eye.


I kept it quiet.  I kept quiet.  Most people were smart and left me alone, allowed me to avoid the long-term resentment I still feel toward some.


But everything changes, and light comes in many different forms. 


Adam no longer missed his rib once it became a woman.  What is it about a woman that drives us so utterly insane and why do we have so much trouble wrapping our minds around the concept that they can care for us as much as we care for them?


Today I feel like Adam.  Everything I do, I do for the first time in history.  And I am flawless because of her.  She watches me and I want to carry the world for her.


Unlike Adam, Iím not the only man on Earth.  Why do I feel nervous, as if this dream will span only so long as the thread holding it together does not snap? 


The day started on a tenuous note when I found a pubic hair in my toothbrush.


Well, well.


These walls canít hold me in anymore.  The house bows with the pulses of my temptation as a warning to the casual strollers-by:  Stay Back.  Then the door blows apart outwards in a shower of splinters and slivers with me standing behind it, smiling.


Are you ready?




7 days.


In your house I long to be

Room by room patiently

I'll wait for you there

Like a stone

I'll wait for you there




Copyright © 2004 John Lemut