Good for You

I don't want to drive off too many potential followers with my bitterness. I was thinking earlier today about Heaven. I figure that Heaven is exclusive. No assholes allowed. While Hell might outpopulate it, evil spirits are much weaker than noble ones. One noble spirit can kick the living shit out of probably ten billion evil spirits. This is because noble spirits are the product of prolonged effort and endurance. Evil spirits are largely the product of laziness.
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© 2010. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

No Artists Aloud

One irony that I find particularly cruel is how people like art but dislike artists. They like music, but only after it's already written and practiced for them somewhere out of earshot. They like well written dialogues but they won't let the person writing it test it out for himself, even if he's doing it alone in his own apartment. Instead, they're liable to call the cops on him. I've got nothing against people who want to be boring, but they shouldn't pretend it makes them some kind of hero. If they had their way with everyone like me, their TV's and radios would fall silent. Then maybe they'd start screaming loudly.
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On My Own

For understandable reasons ownership appears to be more impressive than honesty. But appearances can be deceiving. A statement of ownership reveals proud accomplishments and enviable possessions. Honesty, on the other hand, is usually shared by confession. While everyone including myself favours ownership, I think it is important to be conscious of the trappings of this quite natural impulse. It may afford a man unscrupulous drive in goal oriented behaviour, but at the inevitable expense of his soul. I have a feeling that God is more impressed by honesty. He already owns everything. I look upon my desire for ownership as a necessary evil, in order to make a respectable place for myself in this unenlightened environment. All the same, I ask my God to forgive me for it and to help me to not lose sight of my ultimate goal.
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What Is Charity?

Charity to me is about helping people who need it: street people, the sick, misunderstood artists, and so forth. Everyone thinks they need a hand but few of us really need one.
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Eye of the Betrayer

When a woman wants to kill you, it's a good sign. It means she's interested. If you turn around to find a woman holding a dagger in the air and coming straight for you, the first thing you must do is make her drop the weapon. This you achieve by grabbing her tightly by the wrist and squeezing as hard as it takes. The next day you can expect her to show up at your door, wrapped in a towel and ready for love. By all means, proceed past this point. There is nothing to fear. She's just leaving herself a way out of the relationship with you. She expects to lose interest in you at some point. Then she can say, 'You knew what kind of a woman I was when I met you. Remember how I tried to stab you in the back with that dagger?' And she would be absolutely right.
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Age of Wisdom

I won't be posting any blogs tomorrow. It's going to be my birthday. I'm turning forty-five.
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Suffer Proper

Suffering for God comes before its reward. Suffering from sin comes after its reward.
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© 2007?, 2010. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

String Theory

It's a good thing that I have my faith back because I need it, not just to accept what has happened to me in the last couple of years but to feel good about it - when I'm not burning my skin with lit cigarettes. If anyone hasn't yet noticed, my life has unfolded before me this year in a fashion which can only be described as miraculous. For months I have started each day with an ostensibly random thought or decision which has resulted in a precisely relived day from a bygone year. Faces and objects everywhere around me occupy identical positions to theirs from before. Situations and conversations turn out exactly as before. This has happened in spite of my spontaneous, welfare supported lifestyle. The year I and those around me have relived is 2007. And the power behind my phenomenal experience, I'm now certain, is the Hand of God. I may once have alluded to how the universe seemed to be forming and adjusting itself around me and my actions, but it's far more impressive to me now, with every last detail present to restore my memory as I go along. God has shown me, as gently as possible, that we are like puppets in his power. He can make us do or say whatever he wants if it serves his ends. Fear not, for his motives are fine. Yes, I have suffered, but suffering for my God is purposeful. It makes me wiser, more sympathetic to those in pain, a better songwriter, and, ultimately, stronger in my faith. Purposeful suffering is why I can accept my past failures. And it's why I can look upon the deeds of my detractors with forgiveness. Still, it would improve them to suffer severely. I say so out of love. Suffering for God is any kind of pain that appears pointless from a logical perspective. If we lose or deny our faith and post such thoughts to the web, everyone else who posts either nothing or recipes no one reads mercilessly hold us to our words as though they were a sacred oath. The other kind of suffering is self-imposed. It is the suffering we bring upon ourselves by acting wrongly. It is the evil that catches up with a child of God, born with a soul that feels and that can't be escaped. It's the shame that follows anger, the pride that gives way to humility, the emptiness of heart that fills a vault with gold, all the way to the damnation that comes from embracing evil. I'm sorry I didn't follow through from this point earlier on, but maybe now you can share in my joy. We've all been witness to a miracle. Trying to turn from God only made my faith stronger. His power is undeniable the second time around. I would be a fool to go back to atheism after this. I want to get busy and write new songs. And I want to get back out on a stage where a good puppet belongs.
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Frankophile

It was a blonde haired, blue eyed daughter of Israel from San Diego who led me up the narrow steps of the Anne Frank House when I visited Amsterdam in late 1988. Up to then, I'd never heard of Anne Frank. A Jewish teenager, she and her family were forced into hiding when German forces occupied the Netherlands in World War Two. They shared a concealed attic in the shop of which they had been dispossessed, according to Nazi policy, with another Jewish family, the Van Dammes. We toured the rooms. Anne's still had the pictures on the wall of her favourite movie stars from the period, cut out from newspapers and magazines. When I got back to Canada, one of the first things I did was to borrow her diary from the library. It included some photos of her that might have been of my own sweet mother from that time. I even drew one of them in ink and it turned out well. The book is an excellent read. There's a part in it where she mentions misdirected allied paratroopers landing in the street and being taken prisoner. I thought of my father, who marched into Amsterdam in 1945 with the Canadian army. She was highly sophisticated for her age, and this might be illustrated in a conversation with her young friend, Peter Van Damme, in which, as a way of overcoming despair, she advised him to practice religion. Right there is an astute observation of the contrast that often exists between believer and non-believer. Stemming from her faith, I think, was her celebrated belief in the basic goodness of all people. It's quite remarkable for a girl in her situation. (I didn't care for it as an atheist, however.) I think she was a serious artist, and I disagree with how she is sometimes depicted in YouTube videos. They don't get the voice right, to my mind. Too sappy sounding. I lampoon such perceived misrepresentations with my character, Jane Blank. As for Anne Frank, I can't think of a better inspiration for any artist who must endure prolonged confinement. If I cut out my favourite stars' pictures and put them on my wall, hers would be among them.
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Ask a Stupid Question

I have the utmost respect for the work of scientists when they offer physical solutions to physical problems. I just think that some of them and their literary allies are out of their league when they venture into spiritual territory. Belief in God has nothing to do with logic. It is not meant to be debated; it is meant to be felt. 'But the universe is so vast that we can only imagine...' The universe is vast. God is immeasurable. 'But we're so small and insignificant...' Not too small to imagine God. 'But something can't come out of nothing...' Science is invention. God is creation. 'But prayer is servile...' I'd rather kneel to God than kneel to logic. Logic is a powerful tool in this life, but it falls short in creative fields, such a song writing; that is, unless you equate the pushing of a button on a machine with the making of a melody. Such a machine may duplicate the notes of my songs, but not the suffering that gave rise to them. Only God can duplicate my experience, as I've learned all this year. Scientists handicap themselves when they apply science to faith. If they'd been doing that all along, we'd still be in the Dark Ages. Atheism lays the trap of letting one be consumed by arrogance, in the absence of a disciplinary, all-seeing God. Do I trust myself to act decently without God in my mind? You mean, do I trust myself not to let my monstrous subconscious drives flow out of me unchecked without God to keep me in line? Not unless you supplant my God with scientifically produced drugs that rob me of my free will! I'm not picking any fights here. Obviously I enjoy arguing the question, too. Science can be progressive, but there's no progress in having a scientifically advanced world if everyone in it behaves like assholes because they've all turned from God.
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© 2007, 2010. Statements by David Skerkowski. Initially posted under a different title. All rights reserved.