And it’s turtles all the way down...

I remember my father reading to me. He made the stories into a spectacle of elaborate, silly voices. That spectacle became ingrained in me, and goes with me into the daylight spaces of my own adult life. This childlike play acting, the art of verbal exaggeration and caricature, has perhaps been my only salvation from an unbearably melancholy disposition. My father taught me many things, but the unintentional lessons have been the most cherished.

2018 Update: I wrote these messages 11 years ago and numerous features of my beliefs have changed since that time. The core message stands. I refuse to believe that God is worse than me. I refuse to believe that God is a monster.