Spencer Moseley

Popping champagne scares me. I don't have much to say about it, but I thought people should know.  I believe in an imperfect god (right now). Am I on some road to believing in a perfect god or in Plato's eternal forms? I'm not sure. Maybe this is some slippery slope to MAGA, but I find some comfort talking to a god. I've resisted this for a while because I thought belief in a god would mean I'm weak, but I don't think that's true anymore. We're all weak af, so it's probably not bad to find things that help me function.  It's weird going back to god. He and I have a fucked up past. The god who gave me a list of rules to follow did not let me embrace my authentic self; and I had to follow his rules lest I end up, "where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth". So I guess my relationship with god feels a lot like my relationships with fellow humans—imperfect. So I've basically removed god from the traditional values that make god ...

I'm in a tender development stage where I'm struggling to keep my eyes focused on the road ahead. I reflected this past weekend and realized that it's only been four years since I left Catholicism. In that time I've accepted two corporate jobs, moved three times, made some of the most authentic friendships of my life, traveled abroad, started podcasts, performed a stand-up comedy set, and explored my sexuality.  The truth is though, this isn't good enough. I wish I had spent the first 26 years of my life doing these things. I wish I had started younger and gotten into the film industry as an actor/performer/singer/public speaker/writer. Now I'm 30 and it feels so late in the game. The game. What game? See that's the problem. The world creates this game in our minds, as if there's some place we need to be in our career at some age.  But still. I can't help feeling a deep, deep regret for time poorly spent—time I will never get back. And the crazy thin...

  T iny, prickly, toothpicks dance like fireflies. Blues swept with yellow and pink. Light nods off, and dim-lit stars emerge on canvas, arranged by Zeus— Cassiopeia stirs the sea god's wrath. Like three wise men, who conned a king, the cows lie down, a tempest brews. Cloudbursts rupture  Loki's pedestal.  Why is tonight different from all other nights? Tolerable yet intolerable discomfort, A Glaucus-trade made,  Diomedes laughs. As sunlight wakens, s ingularities vibrant, a phoenix emerges, soaring higher than Icarus. Toothpicks to nails, Why have you forsaken me?

I hear people say, "I want to be unapologetically myself", and I agree with the sentiment. But when my authentic reaction to someone with a deformed face is disgust, I'd prefer to curb that reaction. Or if I can't catch myself before I make a face, I hope I apologize. So I'm in a bit of a conundrum. On the one hand, I want to be unapologetically myself, but on the other, I'm having these knee-jerk reactions of disgust that I do not want to have.  So i n order to be a guilt-free version of "unapologetically myself", I need to change my behavior when I see a deformed face, which means I need to change the way I perceive deformed faces; and in order to change my perception, I need to consider why I react with disgust in the first place.  Why do I react with disgust? When I see a deformed face, it's scary. I start thinking "I was one chromosome tweak away from this?", "why does this guy look so weird?", "that looks painful...

Telling people, "Be yourself" seems like bad advice, though well-intentioned. "Yourself" implies stagnation, that there's this part of us that just is . I remember growing up my mom would tell me to mingle more in crowds and get to know people. We had a running argument where I would tell her, "you're more extroverted, so it's just easier for you". I pigeon-holed myself into a "shy" category, and while it's true that I felt more introverted, I was capable of expanding my life experience. "Be yourself" is also not great advice because it begs the question, "what is my ' self '"? This is a rabbit-hole I've explored far too often, and it leads nowhere. My sneaking suspicion is that the Buddhists were right when they said that the "self" doesn't exist. It's much the same reason why I think God might not exist. When you go searching for a "self" or "God" or "per...

Hi. One of my friends is going back to the ole Catholic faith, and that got me thinking. Do I miss that too?  I've been playing more Catholic hymns on guitar lately: I am the Bread of Life, Silent Night, You Satisfy the Hungry Heart, etc. DOES THAT MEAN I'M SECRETLY CATHOLIC IN MY SOUL (side note: tf is a soul?)? I find it hard to be alone sometimes, and that's when the thought of Jesus is most appealing. I'll be eating chicken in my quiet home with my quiet dog on my quiet sofa—wondering if somewhere out there, I'm missing something. Is there some God-shaped hole in my heart just waiting to be filled? Come fill me, Jesus. 😈 But the truth is, I just miss elements of Catholicism, not the whole thing. And I can have those elements and pick and choose things from it that fit me (love your neighbor, finding quiet time, developing an interior life); and the loneliness is going to be an ongoing project of leaning into it so I can grow and become more comfortable with the...

There isn't really anything I know.  ..and that's insane to me. I can talk about rocket ships and the moon, math and science, good and evil. But I don't know anything . I believe a lot of things that I learned in school that may turn out to be fake news later (like how we used to believe the earth was flat until one day they were like, "nah fam it's a sphere"). We use tests to confirm gravity is real so that you can be confident that when you take shit, it will fall into the toilet; but some level of faith in the scientific process, what others tell me, and my personal experience that no one else can share, governs my life.  So since I can't know anything with any certainty, I'm starting to think that choices are all that matters. There are times when I haven't always felt love for people close to me, but I've chosen to stay by their side. Other times I haven't felt like going into work, but I went in anyway. Sometimes customers say rude co...