kiya

Given that the Muse just booted me in the head and had me scrabbling through the Gospels frantically so that I could do a decent job of writing the parable that wanted written now, absolutely, put down everything you're doing and write, damn you, that came about while I was in the middle of reading this essay. I've been suspecting that I was headed back this way again ever since I got into the argument on TC with the person who seemed to be questioning whether or not I, as a pagan, could possibly have a legitimate interest in Christian theological analysis; it's an interesting confirmation. (And before that, with some odd insights, but that was the bit that sort of seriously confirmed it as a reasonable suspicion.)

It's a weird little piece, the thing I wrote. I'm not sure what to do with it; I'm dithering about posting it somewhere, as I doubt I'll try to get it professionally published, and putting it on a webpage or something might be of some use. I've showed it to

humanx and

oneironaut; I'll probably email it to

teinedreugan,

brooksmoses, and

suzimoses before I go to bed. Perhaps my parents. I don't know. It wanted written, but now that it's written, I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it.

What if the rough beast that slouches towards Bethlehem is the spectre of the condemning Son?

I need to work through the weird akhu theological notion I got and see if it works, see if I can incorporate it into the syncretism I'm building. I want to stick a warning sign on my thought processes to make sure that people who wander too close are properly armoured. "Caution: Hard Hat Area."

In other news, my throat is a large rubber mat of itchy-painful complaint. I keep having my swallow reflex triggered to deal with whatever's in my throat. Unfortunately, it's being triggered by my throat. From observing

teinedreugan, this will not improve.

I should get back to working on the WIP. Evil Genius eat brain. Wordcount should resume soon.