It is midnight. I sit on a couch at my friends' house. Alone, but for the ticking of a clock, the soundless gliding of my pen, and even-present God. I have just finished watching Moulin Rouge, and I am feeling, by association, a sort of tragic grandeur, as if I my myself were the man at the typewriter. As if I myself had been burdened and blessed with such love, such pain, such special effects. I glance at the fridge and see the pictures of my dear classmates. About twenty of these are girls. Of these twenty, about half I would consider friends - that is, I've had at least one real conversation with them. A handful have been the object of my crushes, to various degrees. Perhaps three have shared with me, or I with them, something special. Something that binds us together through time and space with some intangible kinship - something beautiful and blessed. Only one of these girls (contrary to popular belief) have I ever proposed to, and that only vicariously. Any of these girls could capture my thoughts and emotions and guide my pen tonight. Any name could be etched here for my aged reflection, or for posterity's speculation, or for the flame. But none of these girls will be mortalized here tonight. It is a solemn thing, and ought not to be done out of self-indulgent passion or boredom. Or so it seems to me now. Instead, I present for the reader's consideration my relationship with God. It seemed to me when I began to write that my relationship with God was somehow like the story of Moulin Rouge. Perhaps (as I now feel) this is not the case. But I have been at this now for 45 minutes, and I feel the need to see it through. So what is the connection? Neither of us is a woman. Certainly neither of us is a whore. Neither of us are cast in brilliant color and live in a world of song and dance and absurd cinematography. I think it's the hell-bent devotion, like I want to be devoted to God "come what may" or whatever. But maybe I don't. I don't know. It's late, and my head's in a whirl. So many impulses. What do I do? Another line comes to mind: "Daddy, you bastard, I'm through." I don't know which represents my feelings right now. I just feel like someone's laughing at me, because it's all been said before, and I haven't changed since the fall. Oh Jesus. (See the formula. Always the "Oh Jesus".) What gives, God? What is there to say? You know what, God? I say I'll do anything for this relationship. How about this: I won't let go until you bless me. Let's go God. Let's fight.

I suppose this is where I first started to identify with Jacob. I figured that I fight enough with the my own concepts of God, maybe I could fight with God himself for a change. Didn't really work. Btw, I'm not exactly sure what I was talking about with the marriage proposal. I think I was referring to a video we made.