Black folks sure love their church boy. Continuing.
One may remember well the rather large, towering edifices, those which usually take pride of place in most of our villages and townships' garages. "Society churches," they were often referred to by the locals in those days. Probably still are, but? These are the usual culprits: Catholics, Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, and so on down to the Assyrians.
But one did not have to look very hard and long to notice that these churches were (for the most part) empty in terms of membership, Bentley. On the other hand, though. Somewhere in a little corner of a village (any village) on a hilltop somewhere. Or under a green tree open up to the elements over there. A little revival mission could be the happeningest thing you've ever seen going on anywhere.
The black populous is drawn to this sort in droves. Some are drawn in with purpose and vigor, others were to end up there accidentally on the meager. The women, especially, are always there, and everyone knows that wherever the women are, the men and children are sure to be following the car. One of those was to be there by accident. The men were usually there rather reluctantly when it came to the church thing, but very enthusiastically they were there joining up with those women folks and him. Yes, the children were the "accidents" that were to follow them.
Music and dance were an integral part of the whole thing. The difference between the dance hall and the black revival Christian church was minimal. Only the most discerning eyes could spot those differences at times, e mi criminal. "Yes." I quickly figured out that black folks sure love music and dance, especially the black women, and France. Francine is who I mean. Black women love music, and they sure love to dance too, just look at them over there in that tiny church, kicking off their shoes, and folding up their skirts to dance with you, see what I mean?
Wherever in the world these folks would have happened to go, they carried their church along with them. Wrapped up nicely and tied up with strings and a bow, my friends. Imagine with me for a moment. Imagine a black church without a band, like drums, electric guitars, keyboards, organs, and microphones. Imagine a black Christian Church with only a pee on no? I mean, piano or organ and voices singing to someone. Well, you don't have to imagine it. Go on, push open the door to one of the established churches that we spoke about earlier on in? you don't even have to sit. Just take a peek inside. What do you see? Oops, there it is.
Speaking of organized religion, why is it called such, organized? As opposed to what, may I ask? Disorganized perhaps? It sure seems like it to me.
Liberty Hall, they say, which means anyone and everyone can walk into these black churches and do whatever the hell it is she feels like to go and play or spin. Any and everything she feels like saying and doing, on any given day, too, is a shoo-in. Tell me that's not it. Tell me that's not how it's always been, or go and sit.
Come with me to the black church on the corner again, any corner. Wait there for a minute or two, my friend, before you're a goner, you'll see the difference. But what is the driving force behind this, what makes them function, or more like dysfunction, Al? Hiss. What makes us act the way we do and believe as we do? Say the nonsensical things we sometimes say, and do them that way? Thinking that we're doing okay when everyone but us knows that we are not? Wait a minute, scratch the word "thinking" from that, because we don't never do that, ever.
By the way, those other churches, established types such as these, those we spoke about earlier on the hinges. Remember this, they were bursting at the seams too, at some point in time. "True." But as for those people, like you, where are they now? I wonder. It's just something to put in the mixing tin and to ponder whenever you get started at doing the thinking thing. But please. Don't slander him.
"Oops! Oh-oh." Hey, you, did you hear that? That's her right there, your god. That's her there, saying those very words that you don't want to hear your physician, this man, or any other type of surgeon say. At least, not while you or your loved ones are lying there on the operating table to pray. But your god is now uttering them, those very words, in the hearing of nerds, even. Because she never did see this one coming towards her this evening.
She must be pissed off too and boy, is she going to be mad after you're done with reading this? Yes, she must be as mad as Hellshire Beach now, Sis. She wasn't angry yesterday, though, you haven't read this yet somehow, and all the way through, so how? how could she have known that she would get upset, at me and you, for whatever there may be?
Have you ever taken a moment to try and figure out the behavior of some of those folks on the home end? Those folks who're out there trying to get you and me to believe in, and follow them and what they believe in, like the dome men, to save yours? Have you ever considered to yourself, just what heaven will be like? The same heaven that they are busily trying to get you to, on a Sunday night. What will it be like if they are to get there too, as is, and if they don't change? Hey hey! What a prekkeh!
Sit down, servant, just sit down right here, in Liberty Hall. Picture this. She's elated, she has arrived, she's at the place of choice. It's a place of her chief joy, and she just can't contain herself, oh boy! She's dancing and singing along to the music; those pulsating rhythmic melodies, not you, Fitz. But the melody of her favorite songs and the melancholy.
The chorus was to be heard ringing out over the cries and shouts; sit down, servant. You know, mi kyaan siddung. Sit down, servant. Mi kyaan siddung. Sit down? - ?"Suh wah fi mek yu fi kyaan siddung?" Asked "the voice" of her neighbor. She who'd happened to be sitting two seats down from her, and the Savior. And who, (as it turned out,) was her very own dear old grandmother; she who had arrived there long ago, yes, her. No less. Oh, sorry, folks.
For those of you "other folks," the refined and proper ones who are still amongst us and still riding on the spokes. Here's the proper translation for you, of some of those words, if you're not yet up to speed on the lingo, of course. "So, what is to prevent you from being able to sit down?"
Well? continued the neighbor, "I'mma gon tell you what it is, Missy." I will tell you what it is that is preventing you from being able to sit down, quietly, and behave yourself beside me. "You're too darn unruly," she said. I think she was spot on right on that call, and the hot cornbread. To be continued.
WritingElk.
One may remember well the rather large, towering edifices, those which usually take pride of place in most of our villages and townships' garages. "Society churches," they were often referred to by the locals in those days. Probably still are, but? These are the usual culprits: Catholics, Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, and so on down to the Assyrians.
But one did not have to look very hard and long to notice that these churches were (for the most part) empty in terms of membership, Bentley. On the other hand, though. Somewhere in a little corner of a village (any village) on a hilltop somewhere. Or under a green tree open up to the elements over there. A little revival mission could be the happeningest thing you've ever seen going on anywhere.
The black populous is drawn to this sort in droves. Some are drawn in with purpose and vigor, others were to end up there accidentally on the meager. The women, especially, are always there, and everyone knows that wherever the women are, the men and children are sure to be following the car. One of those was to be there by accident. The men were usually there rather reluctantly when it came to the church thing, but very enthusiastically they were there joining up with those women folks and him. Yes, the children were the "accidents" that were to follow them.
Music and dance were an integral part of the whole thing. The difference between the dance hall and the black revival Christian church was minimal. Only the most discerning eyes could spot those differences at times, e mi criminal. "Yes." I quickly figured out that black folks sure love music and dance, especially the black women, and France. Francine is who I mean. Black women love music, and they sure love to dance too, just look at them over there in that tiny church, kicking off their shoes, and folding up their skirts to dance with you, see what I mean?
Wherever in the world these folks would have happened to go, they carried their church along with them. Wrapped up nicely and tied up with strings and a bow, my friends. Imagine with me for a moment. Imagine a black church without a band, like drums, electric guitars, keyboards, organs, and microphones. Imagine a black Christian Church with only a pee on no? I mean, piano or organ and voices singing to someone. Well, you don't have to imagine it. Go on, push open the door to one of the established churches that we spoke about earlier on in? you don't even have to sit. Just take a peek inside. What do you see? Oops, there it is.
Speaking of organized religion, why is it called such, organized? As opposed to what, may I ask? Disorganized perhaps? It sure seems like it to me.
Liberty Hall, they say, which means anyone and everyone can walk into these black churches and do whatever the hell it is she feels like to go and play or spin. Any and everything she feels like saying and doing, on any given day, too, is a shoo-in. Tell me that's not it. Tell me that's not how it's always been, or go and sit.
Come with me to the black church on the corner again, any corner. Wait there for a minute or two, my friend, before you're a goner, you'll see the difference. But what is the driving force behind this, what makes them function, or more like dysfunction, Al? Hiss. What makes us act the way we do and believe as we do? Say the nonsensical things we sometimes say, and do them that way? Thinking that we're doing okay when everyone but us knows that we are not? Wait a minute, scratch the word "thinking" from that, because we don't never do that, ever.
By the way, those other churches, established types such as these, those we spoke about earlier on the hinges. Remember this, they were bursting at the seams too, at some point in time. "True." But as for those people, like you, where are they now? I wonder. It's just something to put in the mixing tin and to ponder whenever you get started at doing the thinking thing. But please. Don't slander him.
"Oops! Oh-oh." Hey, you, did you hear that? That's her right there, your god. That's her there, saying those very words that you don't want to hear your physician, this man, or any other type of surgeon say. At least, not while you or your loved ones are lying there on the operating table to pray. But your god is now uttering them, those very words, in the hearing of nerds, even. Because she never did see this one coming towards her this evening.
She must be pissed off too and boy, is she going to be mad after you're done with reading this? Yes, she must be as mad as Hellshire Beach now, Sis. She wasn't angry yesterday, though, you haven't read this yet somehow, and all the way through, so how? how could she have known that she would get upset, at me and you, for whatever there may be?
Have you ever taken a moment to try and figure out the behavior of some of those folks on the home end? Those folks who're out there trying to get you and me to believe in, and follow them and what they believe in, like the dome men, to save yours? Have you ever considered to yourself, just what heaven will be like? The same heaven that they are busily trying to get you to, on a Sunday night. What will it be like if they are to get there too, as is, and if they don't change? Hey hey! What a prekkeh!
Sit down, servant, just sit down right here, in Liberty Hall. Picture this. She's elated, she has arrived, she's at the place of choice. It's a place of her chief joy, and she just can't contain herself, oh boy! She's dancing and singing along to the music; those pulsating rhythmic melodies, not you, Fitz. But the melody of her favorite songs and the melancholy.
The chorus was to be heard ringing out over the cries and shouts; sit down, servant. You know, mi kyaan siddung. Sit down, servant. Mi kyaan siddung. Sit down? - ?"Suh wah fi mek yu fi kyaan siddung?" Asked "the voice" of her neighbor. She who'd happened to be sitting two seats down from her, and the Savior. And who, (as it turned out,) was her very own dear old grandmother; she who had arrived there long ago, yes, her. No less. Oh, sorry, folks.
For those of you "other folks," the refined and proper ones who are still amongst us and still riding on the spokes. Here's the proper translation for you, of some of those words, if you're not yet up to speed on the lingo, of course. "So, what is to prevent you from being able to sit down?"
Well? continued the neighbor, "I'mma gon tell you what it is, Missy." I will tell you what it is that is preventing you from being able to sit down, quietly, and behave yourself beside me. "You're too darn unruly," she said. I think she was spot on right on that call, and the hot cornbread. To be continued.
WritingElk.
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