What the hell is sane?

I am at my beloved Donut Factory on Hollywood Bl. To my left, a window, to my right: a Thai lady with a crazy white guy. This is your typical Harley tank-top wearing, tan, middle aged white guy. But this one is talking about his thoughts on God to an Asian chick who clearly doesn't understand him. He is crazy.

But what is crazy? I am certainly crazy in my own respect, but this guy is talking about the ashes of the Budha. He says they found a finger among his people make this shit up? Honestly? What derails the human mind? I know meth and crack will do this. But this man isn't high. He is high on his own beliefs, but how can he be so certain as to the nature of God. I know that what makes GOD anything to me is the fact that the power that governs the universe is so mysterious that I have to believe the power exists. But to arbitrarily define said power, to me, is ludacrious.

Sometimes I get warped into believing that I am the crazy one. The longer I clear my head the more I realize the crazy that lives around me. I no longer feel warped. I am relatively sane even when I am insane. This city breeds crazy (probably why I love it so much). I love crazy.