My mother in law always has a Jesus calendar on her wall. I’ve known her for 18 years and there has always been one.
Over the years I’ve noticed a slow change in the artwork of these calendars, specifically in the drawing of Jesus. He’s always been caucasian looking and has always been rocking a mumu type robe. A few years ago I saw that he had become a little more swarthy, which I thought was pretty cool, given the area of the world he’s purported to come from. Alas, this did not last and he’s back to being a stubbly caucasian.
But why is he trying to eye-fuck me? Seriously, that piercing, head on look of his, cannot be confused with beatific peace. He is telling you that even if your soul isn’t his, your body will be. If your date looked at you like that, his intentions would be unmistakable. Other than the calendar, I’ve never been on the receiving end of a look like that and I’ll admit that it terrifies me and confuses me at the same time. Repelled and drawn. This is the power of the calendar Christ.
I don’t know that I could live in the same house as that calendar. I have visions of myself standing, enraptured, trying to scrute the inscrutable. Trying to come to terms with the power of that eye-fucking.