Today, I interviewed a Baptist Pastor. For my day job. This actually has nothing to do with silk, but the encounter was so startling, I forgot my own phone number, and so it should be recognized.
I could literally feel the hell fire and damnation pouring from his fingertips as we shook hands and I thought the flesh would melt from my face for having the audacity to enter The House Of God while living in a state of sin with my boyfriend. I told same boyfriend I might have to take up a side gig as a prostitute just to rid myself of the righteous fires of indignation over the “Gay Agenda.” Seriously. His refusal to bow to “the Gays” was one of the selling points he offered up in trying to get me to Sunday services.
Luckily for me, I have several defenses against such fervor. One, is an excellent poker face….that he may never know that his bigotry was enough to send me strolling down Fourth Street (Reno’s Red Light District, such as it is) in retaliation. Two, the nature of my job makes distance from those I interview sort of a necessity. Have to remain unbiased, hard to do so when sitting in the pew next to your subject. Three…I have silk.
I love silk. Not quite in the biblical sense (although I’m sure if I was really feeling the kink, it would be possible), but it is so delightfully decadent I am quite sure it’s discovery was an act of divine providence. Silk doesn’t care if you are a sinner or a saint. It can be ceremoniously chic like a wedding dress, or casually elegant like a caftan. It slides smoothly over your skin, creating a lush barrier between you and the nature from which it springs. It floats delicately in the air, kissing the breeze like a butterflies wings, or trails crisply behind you, the Scroop creating magical music while you dance, walk, sit, or stand.
Silk comes all the way from China (or India, or France, or Italy) purely to delight the senses. The sound it makes as it comes off the bolt, the way it catches the light lustrously, the feel of it as it slides over my hands….THIS is the sin I revel in and it is a far more glorious example of God’s Light than that seen through the judgmental eyes of a Baptist Pastor. I find such hatred hard to fathom.
And so I choose to surround myself with the things I love, rather than focusing on hate. And I love Silk. So I am detouring from The Highway to Hell by way of The Silk Road. Because it makes me happy 🙂