Banks's Blathering Brings Bullshit From Becca

So, I know TB is trying to make some sort of point here about the nature of god and the ways in which we internalize religion in our youth. . . you know, the way we form our spiritual cores and shit, when he writes:

not that anyone asked but i was baptised lutheran but we rarely attended services after grade the second. i first remember thinking of god as someone who was watching me all the time. all the time. all the time. watching. watching all the time. this later morphed into the idea of me being able to sit down and watch my life as a movie with god once i had died. i was really into this scenario from about 1975 to 1981 or 2. sure, it would take a lifetime, i thought, but, hey we'd have eternity. we'd watch my life repeatedly.

But what this really speaks to me about is the way we create narrative from our own experiences.

I have this theory that those of us who are drawn to write things down on pages spend a lot of time framing our own lives inside our heads. Sometimes, this takes the form of an internal novelization. A lot of my brain is taken up with the pasttime of picking out phrasing for everyday experience.

I'm not just drinking coffee, I'm taken with the creamy texture of my latte, and suspecting that the barista may have used full fat milk instead of the skim I requested.

As a child, I spent a lot of time framing the shots in the movie of my life. Picking out songs to include in the soundtrack.*

This had less to do with god, and more to do with my conviction that, of course, someone would some day be compelled to actually make a film of my life. A biopic of my fascinating youth in southern Indiana.

I wrote in my diaries and I was pretty sure that someday, people would pore over them, searching for my gems of wisdom and marveling at my clarity of thought and marvelous insights -- in awe of what perfect, rosebud-tight gifts each page of the diary of my fourteen-year-old self held.

Actually, that's still probably going to happen. I know audiences will be positively riveted by my adventures at Eastland Mall on Green River Road. What is the significance of the purchase of Best Friends half-heart necklaces with Donna Gunnels? What symbolism is held in the intense struggle over curfew times (10 PM? Really, Mother? REALLY??) and chores? Those, my friends, are the stuff of life.

The difference here is that TB was raised with GOD, and I was raised with TV, so instead of a divine interest I had the world watching.

I've always been shallow that way.

Isn't this fascinating, Internet??

*Note to the future director of my Very Important BioPic -- Every Rose Has Its Thorn should probably play over the end credits.