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    Bastard Windows
    Bastard Windows
    Bastard Windows
    Ebook100 pages1 hour

    Bastard Windows

    By Stu Strang

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    About this ebook

    Bastard Windows is the true life account of Reverend Stu Strang's journey to Europe to find himself. From his difficult upbringing and physical abuse from his father, two nervous breakdowns, four years of post traumatic stress, followed by a six-year depression, his life raped by the church of organized religion, and two attempts of suicide, one at the tender age of six, Bastard Windows is Stu's painful journey to live love. This story is a marvellous account that will open up the core of your heart to share compassion, non-judgment, and love with yourself and others. Stu's mission is to live love. Let him help you along the way!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStu Strang
    Release dateMar 11, 2012
    ISBN9781301198009
    Bastard Windows
    Author

    Stu Strang

    Stu Strang was a minister in the confines of organized religion throughout the late eighties and most of the nineties. Along that journey, he became increasingly aware that not only was the institution of religion not helping to facilitate the LOVE COMMANDMENT of Jesus, but was actively working against it. He saw religion as a cloaking device designed to take innocent people into a cheap imitation of what was "true, good and right." Stu's personal memories and poetry reflects upon his process of leaving a generic land filled with lies, deceit, and perversions of many sorts... to enter the raw, unbridled forgotten planet of transparency and connection to fellow human beings.

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      Book preview

      Bastard Windows - Stu Strang

      Chapter 1

      Some people believe that the human race was created through the process of evolution, whereby, instead of monkeys shaving themselves, Mother Nature—over a period of a trillion years—shaved them instead. The drunken old bitch had a rusty pair of clippers.

      Other people believe God created people over a period of six days or thereabouts, no apes screaming or even giving each other a hand job. It seems the people of this belief system, for the most part, are against screwing of any sort, and definitely with no background music adding to and perpetuating the flow of juices.

      Here is my belief (it’s my idea and belongs to me). What if both are true? To be precise, some of us are hairless apes, and others are of a somewhat more divine descent, yet only God knows who belongs to each group. It has nothing to do with who is the finest tennis player, who has the biggest dick, or who has buckteeth.

      My friend Paul drove me to the airport where I planned to visit Europe and teach English to young Italian boys and girls for the next three months. Paul is a fine fellow who doesn’t collect Elvis records and hardly ever laughs at the sight of dead squirrels on the side of the road. Why laugh at anything that makes a great hockey puck when frozen?

      Paul is probably the most heterosexual human whom I know. It is not easy to live in denial when there is nothing to deny.

      The way success is achieved in the world is to live in constant denial, giving people the subconscious belief that his or her denial is unnoticeable. Consequently, not only are you presenting yourself in a way that will be accepted and make those around you comfortable, you also allow others to do the same. Life is beautiful.

      The plane was soon to leave. Paul drove back to his loving family, yet remained with me too. Every point of the Universe intersects at every point imaginable, and if you open your heart and mind, all is accessible to all.

      Chapter 2

      I met two friends in Montreal Airport. Stepping into Montreal and disallowed to lick the left tit of this compulsively wonderful city is like being thirteen years old and having your hands tied behind your back, while watching Miss July dance and swirl like a hot steaming tornado right in front of you. I love this city. It’s one of the places in the world where selling your soul for a sandwich could potentially be a reasonable proposition. In fact, the reason why God is so pissed off at what’s-his-face for selling his soul for a bowl of soup is because a French Canadian didn’t make the soup.

      I am a very sensitive fellow. I’ve had two nervous breakdowns, four years with post-traumatic stress (accompanied by depression), and a two-day coma-type situation after I tried to murder myself. A year of intensive rest, followed by ninety-nine days in Europe was my recipe for healing.

      It was a wonderful idea, and stepping into a place where no one could identify me meant I could act like the biggest ass in the world and it would not matter. I am a clergyman; we are all assholes, am I right?

      As the plane took off into the bright afternoon sky, I began to consider life specifically, taking back what was stolen from me: my health.

      We all can take things which do not belong to us. The church bitches about the sinfulness of sex, but answer me this, when is sex not sinful? I mean, even in the context of marriage, when are people honest about their truest intentions during the act of screwing? When is it ever separated from selfish motives, deceit, and using the other for instant gratification? To be precise, maybe the church is so preoccupied with condemning sex before marriage simply because it disregards the real issues of sexual intimacy and issues of the heart. Is it an act of love or an act of dishonesty?

      What has been stolen from me is my health. Religious institutions raped me as I bent down in the shower to return to them a bar of soap. They never got the soap, nor did they clean themselves in any respect. They simply fucked me up the ass, and I want to reclaim my innocence.

      Chapter 3

      The beautiful thing about losing your airplane ticket is that nobody really wants to appropriate it, unlike your wallet or your virginity, or even your new tube of glue. It has no value to anyone but your self. It is almost like trying to take your own life; people no longer want to be with you, there is no value in the alliance.

      After a few minutes of heavy breathing, I found my ticket. Oh how the French people were happy for me. I responded, Oui, oui oui! Ticket! Oui oui oui!

      The thought of my non-return onto the plane reminds me of playing in the tennis tournament in Cape Breton in 1985. After winning my last match, I was given a piece of paper by an old lady who probably considered hot flashes as a childhood memory. The paper was from my lady friend whom I had previously travelled with. Essentially it said, Fuck off.

      I cried in front of a rather large crowd as I accepted my trophy. All along, the old lady reaffirmed to me of how she probably had to rush back home to Halifax and feed her cat, or something equally normal in an attempt to make me feel better, yet it made me feel as if she was probably retarded.

      Denial is such an interesting quality. Could any of us live

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