Why I'm In Love

God is love

In my case, Her name is Sara

She's a she. She's pretty. She's unique. She's intelligent. She loves me. She wants me to be happy. I enjoy making her happy. She makes me happy. She's the opposite of the voice in my head. She likes animals. She cares. She challenges me. She needs me. I can't imagine being without her. She's got chinese 'she' tattooed on her (!). (I'm every woman?) She's feisty yet kind, combative yet loving, and understanding, on many levels. Even if we never have a child, I'll be happy spending my life with her.

Movies like Silence of the Lambs (SL), The Matrix (Trinity), and Blade Runner (robot love) have affected me probably a bit too much. I think of them in terms of Sara, who is a movie buff (the movie piece in trivial pursuit is Brown).

With the matrix, I get creative with numbers and numerology. Her name (Sara=3) evokes Trinity. I've started thinking of myself as 1, whether that be an individual, J, or the earth. Mostly, I've Identified myself with my name as 4, but 10 and One have come into the picture of late, with my Most Holy and Divine blog, lol. Neo and Trinity are both 7, besides being 1 and 3. 1+7=8, and 3+7=1. God is 8 and, according to the bible, One. These little math games make me think of computers, and thus the Matrix. 0's and 1's merge like erections with holes. Binary exists, in the bible, as either with us or against us. I read in someone else's holy bible in college that the bible was a mathematical construct. Men have 7 holes, women 8. One=7, like 7-up, an erection.

Sara likes Hole, and Courtney Love. Kurt Cobain said God is gay. God is Love. Did he think Courtney was a lesbian? Sexually, the matrix has the phallic One, Neo penetrating the holy techno-assassin Trinity. There are both sacred and profane trinities. Oral, anal, vaginal and father, son, holy spirit. You can decide which set is "holy". Amen. men? How gay. Matrix means womb, used (before the movie) in relation with "the matrix of your mother." Trinity formed a nuclear family. Carrie Anne Moss, that is. There's the ford fusion and the toyota camry and the toyota matrix. Ma tri x. Ma three times. That's exceeding replacement value, moving up in the world. I'm already on a mountain, though.

As for Silence of the Lambs, she's SL, she was an Art History (AH=Anthony Hopskin, Adolf Hitler, Anne Heche, Alfred Hitchcock) major, was on top of her Abnormal Psychology class. There's DHL (dr. Hannibal Lecter) and UPS (the power of Brown working for you), which both de-liver. She loves crime dramas. She needs to get more fun out of life. There's the H del sol. Hannibal signed his name H. H is Harvard, and Sara is Brown. H was the shape of my (Jesuit)High School, and we are S.J. I am brown like dirt, as my name is Mudd, and As Earth. Trippy. I know a Harv. H is a powerful vampire. Who's H? H is history. H del sol could be the sun god, Ra. Sara=as Ra. I'm t' share Ra. J is 10, so J esse, or 10 being, is being 10 (4+6). Thus, I'm forensics. I lived with a former forensic accountant.

Hollywood and Catholicism
Sara is a catholic, and movie buff. In addition to movie cars like the Matrix, del sol, Porsche (de Rossi), Chevy (Chase), Mercedes (Ruehl), GMC (global mind control) etc., there are priest cars: the Acura (a priest), Mazda (zoroastrian god), H (god, deep), Ford (4d=time=2=that is me=Jesus, alpha omega), del sol (light of the world, sun of man, soul), gmc (global mind control), alpha romeo (One love), Mercedes (trinity), and lamborghini (lamb of god). Religion really plays with your head. God=8=H. H8 is hate is the opposite of love, and God is love. Satan=1, but God is One. What to make of all this?

Cars. S's and H's, Suzukis and Hondas. Allah in an Impala. We have cars, and our moms and dads each have a car, so to speak. There's the Jeep Sahara, S10, Montero, PT Cruiser, LT, and Kenworth. Jeep is like Jesse with the P for the SS. Sara with ah makes Sahara. J is the 10th letter, so the S10 seems to sanction our union, as a "Jesuit" car (s.j.). The SLT would apply, if she took my last name. Her mom is a Montero, and my mom is PT. My dad is LT, and her dad is Ken. Weird? I've got more cars I relate to personally. And she has some that relate to her.

I was born on Sept. 3, 1971, and there's the Saab 9-3 and the Z71 trucks. My brother is GT. My mom's brother and his wife are Jim and Vicki, like the Jimmy and the "crown" Victoria. They are H's and cops (choices, options, possibilities). That all contributes to a mysticism and a sense of fate, like cars and fatality. It's all physics and mind control, I say. Santa and God and angels and demons and the devil and the Easter bunny...they don't exist. But I do. I'm a virgo. Virgo's are 'the vehicle.' I am driven. You can make of me what you will.

Of course, there are brown cars. There are srs airbags, and the Sierra, and the Sahara, and SR5's. She's SLB, so she's a slob like one of us, just a stranger on a bus. All this nuttiness isn't the reason I worship her, though.

As for Blade Runner, I used to rollerblade and run, but that's irrelevant to the sense that I'm a robot, like a replicant, with resentment toward my maker due to mortality and suffering. I've outgrown that resentment and accepted my fate, like yours, Oblivion. Endorphins and laughter and pets and love all make life worthwhile, among many other small pleasures and delights, like dreaming, reading, writing, music, food. If the matter we're made of retains consciousness after we die (water was said to in the movie What the Bleep do we Know), then I'll be happily making my way through the universe in whatever form I take. So be nice to the rocks, I guess. Maybe they want to break up? I'm don't really think the message of Blade Runner was that matter is alive, but rather that the living are more robotic, and in a way, dead. It's a dark film. In any case, Sara's the orga robot for me.

Sara smokes, and I don't, despite having S.A.D. (not social anxiety disorder or seasonal affective disorder, but Schizo-affective disorder: most schizophrenics smoke), but we understand each other, we complement each other, there's growth even when we fight. We support each other. She's a loving person, who hates all the right things. Are we really supposed to embody love to be perfect and not hate anything? God is a man of war. The art of war is deception. God is a woman of peace. Jesus Christ, prince of peace. Christ=5=she. God is? Well, whatever. In any case, it's okay to hate hatred, as a dish served cold. Eventually, the hatred extinguishes itself. Hatred anagrams to Heat dr. I'm a DR, in an unofficial, mathematical, numerological, sort of way.

Our names evoke Gods, good and evil, darkness and light. St. Sara is Kali the black, and Jesse is like Tennessee, which is based on Tanasi, which anagrams to 'I Satan.' We can both be dark, but only because we're both so idealist. Kali is dark and violent, also a benevolent mother goddess, sometimes taken to be Ultimate Reality, in Hinduism. Jesse has been said to mean "God's gift," although I have also been under the online handle Smalbed, for Satan Mephistopheles Antichrist Lucifer Beelzebub Evil Devil, just to play an alter ego bad boy online, which rubbed off a little. I do not consider either of us to be evil, in case you were wondering. I'm okay, you're okay. We love each other, and that's all that matters, amidst the madness and meaning, like wearing white and a dark suit at our wedding, which was on 5-19, or armed forces day. I remember through the ES in my name, yet another indicator of God, unifying love and militance. May, as the word indicates, is the month of permission, of freedom.

Speaking of gifts, Sauron was called "lord of the gifts", Anne Rice wrote of vampires bestowing the "gift", and gift in spanish is regalo, which anagrams to Al Gore, or Regal O, like as in O my God. 'Jesse' is very like 'Tennessee', where Gore governed. I worked at Walgreens, which has Dubya, Al, and Greens in the name. I felt like I merged with the computer there, like Darth Vader. An allegory. Algorithms. Weird, huh?

I get headshocks, which I interpret to be like the "neural net" referenced in the book Neuromancer. Hannibal, in one of the books, was described as having things fall off the shelves of his mind. Don't be surprised when a crack in the ice, appears under your feet. "The ice" describes the mind of the neuromancer. This pink floyd lyric makes me think of the removed skull cap in Hannibal and the satanic murder in 9th gate, or the phrase "what's up, doc". I'm linked to the machine, it seems. Every time I went in to walgreens, for example, I was thinking about the topics of the muzak beforehand. I also associate the head shocks with Bill Gates' "digital nervous system". Headshox is a bicycle part company. My head popped is the name of a song I bought. Shocks are used to describe economic events and the word "shocking" to describe atrocities. 'Brainzaps' are what they are called, by other patients. Very few people feel actual shocks, like Harry Potter being zapped by Voldemort, or Luke Skywalker by the Emperor. People say things like "you hurt me" or "I'm in shock," but they don't realize how these statements can be truly real, and not just virtual. Some people might think Bill Gates (888, a trinity of gods) is responsible for the virtual reality and lack of freedom and literally shocking circumstances or conditioning zaps we find in our heads and bodies. Thus, Kill Bill and Enemy at the Gates take on a more real meaning. I feel your pain?

Anyway, my bacon number is two from Al Gore because my dad introduced him while he was campaigning in 2000. I thought it would be cool if he won by one vote, to make people feel empowered. Jesse Teshara and Al Gore are both 4,9. That's 13, or 4. Antichrist sums to 4. Al, Jesse, David are all fours. And, I know someone named Four. What's going on here? I have a globe that uses a 25 watt bulb, a glowb. I had another one that melted in the back of my Honda, in the sunlight. Global warming. Just a little bit odd.

So anyway, Sara makes me feel better in the midst of all this madness. I believe she reduces my symptoms, and brings me back to sanity from the goofiness to which I am prone, and find myself surrounded by.

She wants me to write her a poem:

'Sara' is 74th behind the 23rd 'Sarah', in 2005. She can be either, as she bought an H, Pat (Sajak). She understands. She is understanding. She is shorter. She hushes. She is she. Ah, yes, elegance in numbers, as in your figure. But what are numbers and time, in comparison to my love for you, which knows no bounds, and anticipates loving you more, with them. Happy as a humanist, existing as an existentialist, and loving as a LGA (lord god almighty!), I quote a bit of crashed Camus: "For all to be accomplished, for me to feel less lonely, all that remained to be hoped was that you should greet me with..." open arms, (but not literally, for you could then die...and in dying you would be dead, and all the goodness that you are with it, and you are) to hold me, as I cling to you, through good times and bad, despite either of our faults. If you were on flavor of love, you'd be my truffle! I think you're sweet, even when you're bitter. We're both sad. I, with s.a.d. and you with sadness. Faults? We have none, for we are perfect together. Even our flaws are perfect. We must seek growth, not perfection. And growth has Gr, Ow, and W(i)th. Spain and Tijuana, S-pain and TJ, J-cross. Adios, mi amor. To God, my Love. Roma and amoR, my italian love, my gypsy goddess, my princess.

Okay, so it's not much of a poem, lol. You can greet my "poem" with howls of execration, if you like. I can't really stand up to Song of Songs.