Of Gigantic Flies and Cement Cathedrals

I meant to start this before my 3rd glass of wine. But oh well.

This morning, I tried to take a bath. I got a nice little breakfast of toast and vegemite, a cup of tea, and set myself up in the bath. The frighteningly huge fly that had been buzzing around was lying dead in the drain; I said a little thank you to who/whatever ended his annoying existence, cleaned him up, and set to.

But. He had a friend.

Less than 2 minutes into my bath (and tea and toast) his buddy (slightly larger than the first one’s gargantuan mass) decided to poke his head out. There’s a crack that runs the length of the tub. He peered out of it, turned straight towards me, then (rather purposefully, I thought) turned around and disappeared.

Minutes later he appeared again, a good bit closer to me. He then proceeded to advance. Bit by bit, through the rest of that uneasy bath, he took slow steps towards me. He didn’t fly; oh no, that would be expected. No, he stalked me.

Perhaps I should say another something about his size. I’m not necessarily against insect death. But swatting this… beast, that would be tantamount to killing a kitten. And I can’t kill kittens.

So. I decided to let him have the bathroom. But he wouldn’t let it go. He ran up the wall, and followed me as I was towelling off. He inched closer to me, even as I was running for the door. Even now, I believe he’s slowly coming toward my bedroom door, the dogs and cats both having failed to bite or swat him out of the air.

I want to scream, “I didn’t kill your buddy! I swear! He was dead when I started my bath! For pete’s sake, I’m sorry I didn’t give him a Christian burial, but I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!”

Speaking of a Christian burial…

I visited the new Cathedral of Christ the Light for the first time today. Seriously underwhelmed. Where is the grandeur of yore? If I want austere, I’ll visit a Jesuit or Lutheran church. I want Catholicism, I want over-the-top, or if it’s not over-the-top, I want a damn guitar-playing hippie priest. There are certain things I’ve come to expect…

The microphones and acoustics could have worked, if they had really thought that everyone in the place, and within 30 feet of the door, was going to be completely quiet the whole time. As it was, the echoes from people passing by were massively distracting. Cement and the higher wood panelling did not absorb well.

And yet. I kind of liked it. It was light, and airy, and austere. It just felt disingenuous. Like the church was saying, “Hey, I know we’ve got a bad rap. Let’s do the exact opposite of what you expect. Instead of a phallic tower, here’s a yonic (that means visually like a vagina, btw) edifice. Instead of stained glass, here’s an economically efficient digital projection. Instead of mosaics of tile, cement. Instead of flickering candlelight, natural light. See, we’re cool! We’re saving money (you know, your money), and being modern!”

Hey, but the crypt was pretty nice. Except… When precisely did the Catholic church get cool with cremation? I thought that they still expected bodies to rise up during the rapture? Or is this just another part of their, “Hey, we’re cool, we’re modern and hip,” thing?

It feels COMPLETELY wrong to be writing this 10 hours later, after 3 glasses of wine and 2 Die Hard movies, but, hey, whatever. That seems to be the way I roll.


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