081613 #worm How about when Pam and I danced our fucking brains out at the pagan fest. Lightning. Thunder. Drums. Us naked in the mud, pelted by that rain. A slim woman watching. A bunch of fat people watching. And everybody else, watching. Some of them might have realized it, and I bet a bunch of them didn't: we were it. We were what they were praying to. We were the gods and goddesses. Next morning in the butterfly sun, they'd walk around, do their little rituals, put the glass over their eyes, cast their eyes downward and say the phrases they're supposed to say, only instead of god you say goddess. Instead of he you say she. Instead of bare ass fucking naked, you say skyclad. Whatever. It's all the same fucking thing. Only instead of being quiet in church, you fist fuck each other's mouths with food out in the woods. You can see why I was interested. I'm not bitter. Not anymore. Now that I'm not so afraid. I just think it's funny that hardly anybody knows, we're god. We're the goddess. Fuck us. Fuck us good in the rain, baby, with drums!