Food and Sleep

Yesterday I went to Daniel's church to see him play guitar. His performance was satisfactory, but in order to see all of it I had to stay through an hour-long intermission, known in churches as a sermon.

The highlight of the general church experience was communion. I had never partaken of Jesus before, or of any other man for that matter, and neither has my family ever exhibited cannibalistic tendencies, but the experience was interesting to me nonetheless. I was sure that the humor inherent in this ritual had been thoroughly exhausted by church-goers across the past two millenia, but wisps of conversation floating past me as I stood in line proved otherwise. I'll reproduce a couple, though it pains me to do so.

"Jesus is OK, but Oreos are way better."
...
"They should make Jesus-flavored Cheez-its."
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"Have you ever had carbonated Jesus blood? No!? You're missing out man, it's amazing. You should get some, it's only 50 cents a can at Fiesta or you can get 2-liters at Kroger's for a buck sixty nine."
...
"Hey, you! Yea, you! Stop stuffing your face you vulture, this ain't no after-funeral party!"
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(to the priest) "No thank you, I brought my own."
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"I'll have a decaf."

And people have the nerve to accuse Christians of being conservative.

I am getting weaker and weaker when it comes to falling asleep through noise. I took a nap today from 8:30PM to 11:00PM and woke up somewhere in the middle because of a sensation both strange and completely ungrounded in reality; the sensation of being late to something. I set myself a safety net, an 11:00PM alarm, and tried to fall back asleep, only to find that I couldn't because Mario was snoring in 7/8, a most irritating time signatue as I have said on other occasions. Luckily, I didn't make the connection with the earlier sleeping disaster, so well described in the previous post, though the similarities were many. Mario stuck to one pace, he refused to change his pattern of raspy sounds despite all my efforts to mind control him into doing so, and he made no indication of ever to stop.

I persisted in trying to fall asleep with a stubbornness unprecedented by my gender, and finally did, only to have a very long and frustrating dream. I dreamt that I was trying to match my mind's and body's various frequencies to Mario's snoring. I know it was a dream because I woke up to my alarm at 11:00PM, and reality-Mario wasn't even in his bed, much less snoring. Instead, I heard the familiar rustle outside - reality-Mario was stuffing his face with Cheez-its.

We're Back

Haven't written in a while, so you'll have to pardon the spelling and grammar errors. I've mostly been sitting on the couch at the Mendiola house (as evidenced by the permanent butt-print), eating free food, and moving my wrist back and forth in that not-what-you're-thinking way.

Making progress with ear training, I can now hit about 80% consistently for all melodic intervals up to an octave. I've also started practicing hearing chord quality, though the results are hardly bragging-worthy.

I've gone to church twice here now. I think it's time to stop now, before it becomes a trend or worse, a habit. The pastor has kept me on my toes thus far, alternating ideas that verge on the sensical and ones that border on Nazi. For instance, he spent twenty minutes advocating above all else a personal relationship with God, a view I intellectually admire without having a shred of my own personal relationship. Then, just when I was about to bring out the applause, he started ranting about how there are only two types of people in this "fallen world," offspring of the seed - those who believe Jesus Christ is "the tits" (The One and Only Way to God), and offspring of the serpent - everyone else. Having found myself singled out as a son of a serpent among rows of flattered Christians, and offended for my family that only has one Zodiac-appointed snake among the lot of them, I respectfully gave the pastor death stares for the remainder of the pandering.

I've also been having frequent religious discussions with Mrs. Mendiola, with sporadic attendance by Mario. Usually this involves me inventing scenarios that involve her committing to some statement, and then try to trap her into a maze of deductions that end with her being the Antichrist. So far, she's done a remarkable job of remaining calm and unshaken, and most frustratingly, not yielding an inch. Not even calling her a fanatic, a terrorist, and pure evil convinced her otherwise. However, in my defense, it's much easier to defend against contradictions when your viewpoint of the world is "it's God's plan." Contradictions are then just the spice of his creative license.

Chez Mendiola

At Mario's house now. It's pretty nice, kind of like the home we stayed at in Maine. Mario's parents are pretending to like me, but I think I can get them to openly hate me by Tuesday.

Went to church today and sang some ballads praising Jesus with the better-than-expected church band. Christian songs have yet to branch out to a fourth chord, so it was easy to sing along. Then a girl missionary told us about her work in some African country converting the heathen children. And then just as the bell was about to ring, the pastor showed up and delivered a lecture that was a little over the top. Key points: The Joker from the new Batman is the quintessential atheist, people are inherently evil, it's up to the church to save America, because we've been going straight into hell since 1991. Since I came to America in 1991, this has special significance for me.

We've been playing a lot of liars' poker. I thought it would be a cinch with all these churchgoers, but they're even more outrageous liars than my parents. Mario and I have lost every game here, and Igor shouldn't sit too comfortably in California, the Mendiolas are coming.

Have a bunch of new riffs that are resisting development. My ear is also being stubborn and refusing to learn intervals above a fifth. And intervals below a fifth. Still, I'm closer to perfection with every passing day, and when I'm there, I've got it made. Beautiful men with well-trained ears are a rarity in this cruel world.