The Beatles, Hugh Laurie, John Oliver and Me

What do the above all have in common?  That’s right folks, they’re all Brits that have made it big in ‘murica!

Muricans1

Muricans, yesterday

Image: David WilsonCC BY 2.0

Not only do I have that poisonous orange grotesque from a rejected Smurfs spin-off series to put me off transatlantic travel, I now have to take the paparazzi into account as well.

Last week I was extremely flattered to be asked to write a guest piece for Transformation Is Real, a hugely popular stateside blog and web resource about addiction, recovery, and transformation.  When I read through previous postings on the site I quickly added ‘daunting’ to my feelings on the offer – some of the posts on there really blur the boundaries between prose and poetry.  Happily my piece passed muster with Dan, the site founder and (amongst other things) also the author of a couple of graphic novels.  The beginning is reproduced below, then click on ‘read more’ to see the rest.  Have a look around whilst you’re there; you’ll find some outstanding writing.

Free will and divine intervention, with a quick stop at Einstein’s special relativity along the way.  Kinda like the stuff in Hello! magazine I guess.


In these increasingly secular times, I make no apologies for my faith. 

“Hello, my name is Corax, and I’m a Christian.”

“Hi Corax!”

I don’t identify with any particular denomination — but I’m pretty sure evolution is a thing, I’ll not be damned to hell for my fashion choices, and fitting two of every animal into a big boat without them eating each other would be an administrative nightmare.

I don’t think God gives a rat’s arse if we’re born fancying people of our own gender, both, or neither. I’m not sure what my view on abortion is, but I’m certain that it’s not down to me to make a woman’s decision for them anyway. I’m a feminist, but I don’t believe that God is a woman. Or a man. When it comes to that bone of contention, I’ve never really been able to work out why God would feel the need to have genitals — it seems like it would be something of a pointless inconvenience.

[read more]

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