In the Church of the Poison Time

As a week filled with mass confusion and logistical misinformation comes to an end, I have come to the conclusion that the WSF is a lot like church.  About once a year I go there to be surrounded by like-minded souls and to be buoyed by the spirit of a community of believers.  Despite my leanings toward the secular, I sit in a hot pew with a paper fan and search my soul for movement.  The minister speaks a language that I've heard before, but is still only vaguely familiar to me.  It's unimportant.  I'm not here for the man- I'm not even here for the message.  I'm here to have my soul moved by the chorus of sufferance and pain and the melody of an existence where there are less shackles.  It is in those moments when the spoken word resonates with the clarity of a universal language of justice and peace.  Hallelujah.