This last weekend I woke up 25 years in the past. I was a Mormon missionary in Northern Germany and I tripped into some kind of sinkhole wondering what the fuck I was doing selling complete strangers on a megalomaniac modern-day messiah. I was breaking the mission rules by indulging in a contraband CD player, hanging out at record stores, and feeling like a lie. As a missionary there were rules of morality to which I was obliged to adhere, such as zero personal music, especially not popular wordly music. I came onto the missionary scene with a great deal of my own favorite indulgences already, and music proved to tip the balance for me off of righteousness and god. Small g. Continue reading →