Trivial Religious Pursuits — Part Eight

Esoteric Existentialism (Exhausting)

Firstly, I don’t wanna be a dick about the first two. Sometimes writers can be dicks about reader assumptions. That’s basically what esotericism means. We don’t mean to be that way. We just know cool shit & wanna tell you about it. Before I went to grad school I was probably more universally palatable (even that sounds prickish), meaning that more people understood whatever the fuck I was ranting about. There were two websites that made me into a huge geek:

The first is so badass & I had a membership for years until I went up against some “entrepeneurs” & then the criminal justice system & totally had my ass handed to me. Twice. Hard. The second was better than the dictionary because I’d heard dictionaries are political. Now I’m wary of etym, but use it anyway. (History is told by whom?)

That being said, puns always intended, secondly, the nature of being is “existential”. Break it down & you get it. Breaking it down is what I learned from these two sites. Before those, I’d heard about this gem:

(& you’re welcome for the .pdf, however I recommend a copy of the OG because it’s light & usefulAF to carry around) & unfortunately I no longer have a copy of it. A magnificent reference that can help anyone understand the soup sandwich called “English”.

How are these two things exhausting? It made a loner with an epic fuckton of trauma more secluded. The party girl got annoying. It’s a veritable impossibility to have feet in both worlds…

Role call! Where all the ghetonerdZ @???

Hence the writing you may be reading. I’ve been called White Erykah Badu. Bitch. Queen Bee Of LSD. Jukebox. To say I’ve got an identity crisis going on is an understatement. At one point I used the moniker “whitetrashyogi”… grandfather was a coal miner & other reasons. The ancestors, mine & yours, have a great sense of humor & totally have our backs. It’s called KARMA. I sit here on a couch eating chips & drinking beer in beautifully orchestrated Santa Barbara with a bunch of education & experience & not making a dime over the disability check I somehow ended up with that feels so strange to receive after all those years in academia. Clever to a fault. Stuck on The Best Coast when I likely belong on The Beast Coast. But WHOOPS. I got arrested seven times & the first time is still haunting with an inactive warrant for two minor charges I cannot seem to shake. Was reminded recently that The Old Boys’ Club won’t permit this existential empress an attorney. So, here I sit. Hoping one day I’ll get paid enough to have a kitchen & a bathtub I share with someone I enjoy making music with (literally & figuratively), paddlebaording/ surfing with, fucking, sharing meals & talking with about music & other shit.

Thirdly, religion. Mine are brushing, flossing, taking a salt & oil bath, meditating, sniffing & frolicking in nature, practicing a fusion of tai chi, qigong, yogāsana & tantra. How did I end up so far away from the tribe of likeminded??? I tried to be a man in a man’s world. It backfired. Somehow I keep forgetting I don’t have a dick. At the end of any day I just wanna be the little spoon…

I cannot turn this shit off. I just know a lot. I’ve been thru a lot. I’ve seen a lot. I have a vivid imagination. Jack Of All Trades. Master Of…?

Esoteric Existentialism. How annoying.



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Būdist Psychologist ~ Hermeneutics. Indian/ Chinese/ Judahist/ Rastafari-infused Philosophies. ☠️ Write Drunk. Edit Sober. ~E.H.