Under the Green Desk Lamp…
They’re still out there. Oh, make no mistake about it; we still have our Gods and Goddesses.
It’s not religion I’m talking about. Not per se.
This is about the real Gods. The ones which move behind the scenes, the ones we actually look up to.
Gods and Goddesses abound in a place like this.
Made in his image—and all that.
I saw her with my own eyes: the Golden Goddess.
Until then, I didn’t even know I was looking for her. But passing through the supermarket, spending money to fill the void, she appeared before me at the magazine rack.
Hair flowing like spun gold, tussling over bronzed shoulders and cascading down a back arched with the pernicious poise of a predatory cat.
Her eyes shone like emeralds, gleaming with wanton hunger, and the eyebrows above were perfectly symmetrical, curved and inviting.
Her suggestive look left no room for misinterpretation.
It was only a passing glance. Then she was everywhere.
Every passing girl had touches of her within them.
All painted up in their revelations.
All decorated in their sacred garbs.
All repeating their hallowed sacraments.
All falling short.
Every man seeks her, and every woman strives to be her.
There are Gods as well.
Bound with muscles and tall as pillars, they call with different voices but similar promises. They tell you about things you’ll never achieve.
Paradise withheld—but almost attainable to the most prudent and savvy.
It’s something to strive for. At least in lieu of anything real.
They have bodies like humans, but more so. Digitally retouched beyond earthly proportions; sexual beyond human expectation.
Sex sells. It’s the most paid and prayed for thing there is.
And once you’ve known a Goddess, no earthly being comes close.
It’s happened to us all.
We chase our Goddesses, hoping to become a God.
We spend our money in pursuit of the holy ideal.
We withhold our affections for hope that our own Goddess is just around the corner—hold out, have faith.
You’ll never have one. You’ll never become one. They aren’t of this world. But for each deficit you find, you know there’s a solution down the next aisle.
Then another deficit, another product.
Flex your muscles alone in your room, hold them up to his.
Dye your hair.
Skip your meal—avoid temptation.
Push your breasts up in the mirror and let your proud shoulders fall along with them.
It can drive you mad.
But you’d have to be mad…to believe these things are real.
Yet you can’t risk giving up the chase. The rest are all so active, so close.
You can’t fall behind.
The next choice you make could get you to the Promised Land.
What else is there to do?
Just keep your faith.
Just keep chasing the dream.
Just keep spending.
Maybe you’ll find her.
Maybe you’ll be him.
Maybe if you keep focussing on them, you’ll never have to see yourself.
-Brad OH Inc.