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Friday, April 20, 2012
WE HAVE 200 CHURCHES It’s all downhill, literally, as I leave the office with golden arches in the rearview above Steak and Shake and TGIF. Thank God it’s Friday, sky pillowed with cumulous clouds. It will rain tomorrow. I need to mow the lawn this evening, then, as I’m reminded, passing the Home Depot sign, now in the rearview, too. PJ Harvey sings “Kamikaze” and there’s the Chick-fil-A on the left. I’m boycotting, as they’re too small to crash a plane into. (Kidding.) And now the place that mostly fixes my car, my daughter’s TaeKwonDo academy, chain Italian across from local seafood, then quasi-retail Goodwills (two of them . . . I think one is a bookstore . . . kind-of boycotting them, too.) Like Anne Boyer, I’m pretty sure something-something-something . . . revolution. I think about dark money, our worship, the churches of capital with billboards on high, rising above the trees—Wendy’s, Lowe’s, climate-controlled storage—and I’m finally at the loop. Polly Jean sings, “This is Love” and it’s just newer infrastructure—paved-over forest and a bridge through lowland marsh—palmettos peeking over the cement barrier separating us from Mother Nature or a careless fate. I’m losing faith with no more signs to point the way. Anne Boyer writes, The Cartesian problem was how to monetize the abyss. I’m sure I’ll think of something while driving down this brief stretch of road, half-canopied with Spanish moss.