Tongue Me

Speaking in tongues has become a hobby, not as serious as jerking off, but a fine way to release anxiety while clawing at transcendence -- or at the wall, depending on the hour.

I've written before about the friend whose family went full Pentecostal, how he and I would get baked in the temple's parking lot, then go in and watch the show. These people seemed insane, but I admired their commitment to the premise. They threw themselves on the floor, reached to the sky, shook their heads and bodies violently, tongues flicking from their quivering mouths.

And the noise! Vocal chaos. Frightening yet fascinating. All that was needed were some cottonmouth snakes and the performance would be complete. My friend reminded me that waving snakes was primarily a Baptist bit. Too bad, I thought. Even when it comes to reptile-enhanced dementia, religion finds a way to segregate itself. Will we ever come together?

My tongue wagging is non-sectarian. I came across it randomly. One recent morning, I woke with stiffness and aches in my joints, something I'm used to, but this time I was really sore. As I stretched to get the blood moving, my yawning suddenly veered into bizarre gibberish, yet it was a comfortable riff, almost sensual. I rode these guttural sounds until my throat went dry, fell back into bed, wondering what the hell just happened.

My concern faded quickly as I went through my daily paces. Then, in traffic, it surfaced again. I had no control over it. BRUADDA KRECKAI SHANDOOVOP! Thankfully I had the windows up, but anyone could see my head bobbing, hands shaking, mouth moving as if a hornet had flown inside. I didn't care. For a moment I saw salvation, not religious but humane, peaceful, lush, vibrant, a small but serious frequency I plugged into before hitting my head against the steering wheel. The brief burst of horn brought back this sad reality, as the driver in front of me yelled "Fuck you!"

After all these years, I began to understand what those Pentecostals experienced. Their mistake was to tie their tongues to ancient, brutal superstitions. This limited their tongue speaking potential. Probably for the best. If they had let go of their celestial preconceptions, they would have soared through realms where sky gods are sideshows, distractions from higher consciousness. A few might've evolved past their Pentecostal trappings; but the majority would probably be frightened, unable to navigate freely. They would return to the fold, doubtless more sectarian than before.

Still, those believers were onto something. I'm just happy to SCRAGGADOTH MONDAGEEDA BANKU whenever I feel overwhelmed. You should try it. You may not reach transcendence, but at the very least, you won't be bothered by strangers. Sometimes, that alone is enough.