PART 3

Buttocks come in various buttocks-sizes, which is the plural of "buttocks".

I have a confession to make:  I'm not in the slightest bit religious, but I have the impression that certain ideas produce dopamine in the brain and other ideas bring you down and are not at all necessary.  A very irreligious person has no moral qualms about using religious imagery to invoke sensations that produce that dopamine.  In the brain.

I'm unrestricted and free -- and quite committed to bombarding you with my nonsense.

How many pairs of buttocks makes three buttocks-sizes?

I think the only danger in life is people losing track of their God and falling away from their God.  Once you fall away, nothing you do is blest with any sensation of meaningfulness.  I must confess I was in a womb of innocence, in a world of my own, quite naive, and had no notion of any godliness until I was expelled out into the world and there I found people of various buttocks-sizes like you would not believe.

I really had been IMBEDDED in something.  I guess it was something not of my making, unless you count pre-birth events as somehow being of your making, as if you had willed time to orient itself toward you totally or to work backwards.

I found myself unimaginably innocent and then BOOM I was expelled into the World.

Naturally it gave me a fright, and three or four surgeons with very large buttock-sizes began slapping my feet.

Idiots!  You can't stay in a womb of innocence.  You've got to come out of it some time.

I remember watching late one night, at my grandparents' house, a story on the holocaust.  These were British-type parents on my mother's side.  Middle class.  Not aristocratic type parents as were on my father's side.  A warning about disturbing content came up, and this was very late at night.  For a child.  It was about 10 pm.  And the train was going toward Belsen and a woman came on screen in black and white.  I still remember her voice and it is the only thing I remember from that documentary, which was grey, and black and white and had a train.  She said, "My sister, she was very beautiful..."  And then I went to sleep.  But nothing was right in an Englishy type household, as they stayed up too late and things were weird and strange and whatnot.

A word from our sponsor says the following:

I looked up at Him who hung from the roof and wondered. I wanted so much to believe but because I wanted to I could not. I could never believe in my own wants. It had to be a miracle, something totally from the outside of myself. But, with miracles, that was impossible. It was from the other side which was impossible for me. The very clothes on my back were made out of useless deaths, wasted lives, unbelievingly.

That's Marechera, talking closer to home.

From an American perspective, Marechera probably had a very Negra buttocks'size, but I'm not sure.  Definitely it was larger than yours or mine.  You have to give up on a belief in miracles if you are going to embrace others in a mood of political solidarity.  Otherwise, you've just got only you own little private events going on -- and who wants that?

But Marechera wrote some really good books and politics and how there is an underworld of the mind that relates to others' political decisions, but is not always evident on the surface of things.  Or hardly ever.  He wrote about politics with his X-ray vision from beneath the surface of things, not where things are spoken but where they have their final impact.

So, I learned a lot from Marechera.  About politics.