I don't love vice. But I love what I think I must look like when I'm running my hands through my hair and being the picture of cool misery. I just think I'd fit right in with Edward Hopper's classic painting The Nighthawks. Alienation. It's probably a reaction against loneliness. I pretend I love being alone and get so caught up in it that I stop feeling so lonely and stick with a smooth low. One of the sadder reactions against discomfort. It's not drugs, but it's basically shooting up cool.
One of the better moments of my time in Rwanda was when I went to a junky little dive and met this Rwandan guy with a French name that I can't remember. He was lonely and drinking to fight it. He stated openly that he had AIDS. And a kid who didn't have AIDS. And people just left him there to suffer and try to save himself from his pain. And I gave him my email address and walked away because I couldn't do more since I couldn't understand him well enough to find him again. I wonder what a ministry to the lonely looks like. Probably like every other ministry but more obviously loving. Everybody just wants it - love. We all feel marooned and pretend we want something else. No wonder those are the only commandments - loving God and loving people. It's the only thing worth offering. Without it, everything else we've got's meaningless, right Paul? Right.
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