In which I reflect upon a not-unproductive day

Yes, it has been a Good Friday for me.

Have done copious amounts of washing. The mountains in the laundry and in my room have been reduced to foothills. Tomorrow, the towels! Mwah ha ha!

Have also rearranged couches in the loungeroom, and moved japester's boxes into the vacated space. I now have access to my wardrobe again. Tomorrow, the rest of the bedroom stuff is being excavated.

Cooked. Simple stuff, but nice. Bacon and egg sandwich for breakfast, tuna & cheese pasta for lunch. Fish and home-made chips shall happen at approximately dinner time.

Brushed my doggie. Bonding and all that. He is now smooth and shiny.

Wrote two sentences of my novel - that is two sentences more than I have written in the last month. Need inspiration, badly.

In which I stand bemused by a feast of blood and gore

I am currently watching The Passion of the Christ. It seemed appropriate to the day.

It is an utterly appalling and horrifying film. Yay, Mel - way to ram home that old Catholic guilt. Lucky I no longer have any. indescribble commented that she had not thought it would be such a gore-fest. My reply was, 'well, what did you expect? it's a movie about a man being tortured and executed.' And this film seems to dwell on that more than any of the other Jesus movies.

A Catholic upbringing makes it seem like crucifixion was a special punishment meted out to Jesus. Sure, it was a horrible way to die, but it was no different to what the Romans did to countless other non-Roman-citizens in their day. And they were called one of the world's greatest civilisations. Go figure. In fact, it would seem that Jesus was one of the lucky ones - he only took six hours to die, not six days.

The overwhelming impression I have from this movie is just how horrendous it is that Christianity glorifies such a revolting, bloodthirsty occasion. Still, I suppose that it one way of dealing with it. Historically, it really happened - to think it happened for no purpose would be even more terrible.