Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Secret, Undisclosed Spot

I Move to Where Neither Alan Nor Thomas Can Find Me
Yesterday, Tuesday, was spent mostly in moving all my stuff from the railroad track spot, to a spot which I will not divulge, especially to Alan or Thomas.
I went to the laundromat and washed everything which was worth washing, but especially my sleeping bag, upon which Thomas, and I believe, Alan, slept.
The thing needed a good washing, anyway.
Leaving the laundromat, I went to the secret, undisclosed spot and stowed away most of the clean laundry. I forgot that I had taken my money out of my pocket and shoved it in one of my bags, amongst the clean clothes. I did this because the laundromat is in a neighborhood where "they'll kill you for three dollars," according to people who seem to have knowledge of this fact (and yet, are still alive.)
Arriving in town, I found that I had just enough money for a blue Mountain Dew, which I purchased at the Dauphin Store, before venturing forth onto the sidewalks of Dauphine Street, where I saw very few souls, as I sat down to play for my own amusement, and in celebration of my having successfully moved out of the railroad track spot, and to the undisclosed, secret location about three quarters of a mile away.
Sunday
A good part of Sunday was spent in church; the Fellowship Baptist one, where Jeff and Jennie's family go, and where the bible is pretty heavily leaned upon.
We listened as those who have been appropriately educated, dissected the verses of that all-time best-selling book. (The last time I checked it was, though some of Steven King's may be creeping up on it, at least in paperback. [I predict that, if that ever happens, the world will have seen some kind of sign manifested])
That particular church maintains that those who are not "registered" members of a church, (flock, congregation gathering) are committing a sin.
They append to the definition of this church "family," one of its functions, by which its members "take responsibility" for each other.
Whether or not this "responsibility" entails just the keeping of one another in prayer, or the knocking upon doors to ask: "Where were you, we hope everything is alright," if ever a member misses a service, I am not really clear on.
They are a congregation of very nice people, even as they are preached to that such a quality doesn't amount to a hill of beans towards their salvation, and that there will be a lot of "nice" people in hell. (It's right there in black and white; and red)
There is such a preponderance of families with children who attend the Fellowship, that one can't help seeing it as a church "for" families, just as The Cave (click on "The Cave" in the "for more information on" section to the left for more information on The Cave) is kind of a church "for" ex bikers and others who used to do really bad things, but have turned their lives around by asking God into their hearts, and now just smoke cigarettes, drink a little, and will take a few hits off a joint every now and then.
The men of the Fellowship Baptist are pretty uniform in outward appearance regarding attire and grooming, sporting short hair, button-up shirt and tie with jacket, and for the most part having a wife in a dress by their side and having children in tow.
The children are dressed in like fashion, with the absence of a tie for the boys, and the addition of ribbons or other frilly things to the girls.
The preaching is done by someone who speaks with authority. None of the congregation add to nor question the sermon. Questioning can be done after the service, by merely approaching the pastor, and asking away, though.
The preacher does the praying for the flock also, in a sort of "class action" manner, whereby he speaks to God for everyone present, which I find to be consistentent with most churches. 
They are in contrast, in the manner of delivery of sermon and prayer, with the Downtown Fellowship, where the preachers periodically stop to allow feedback from those in attendance, and individuals are given opportunity to voice their "personal" prayers.
This is lent more practicality there, given the fact that their gathering seems to average only about 30 folks, on any given Sunday. This is not including those of the Muslim faith, who are invariably there, who publicly denounce Christians and their church, calling their God a "white man's god," but who probably thank their own god for the warm room, and the chance to sleep in it for a solid hour each Sunday morning.
Saturday
Saturday was New Year's Day, and I woke up at Jeff and Jennie's house. We had been up the previous evening with company.

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