I can't tell you how hard it is to replace the sponge that cleans the plates we eat off of. Even if I write it down I forget. It's a slap stick. It's a one act play about a green and yellow dobie. And at this point it's hanging together by a prayer. I think I'm actually making the dishes dirtier by washing them. And in turn, I'm literally eating off of the smell of scum and mildew. Lovely. Really great for my body issues. Never create a logical excuse not to eat. Never be a vegetarian, never play wheat allergy. It poisons the people around you. It puts led in their forks and they're dead within the week. Speaking of forks, I constantly feel the need to explain my religion, also apologize for it. Also put a price tag on it and hang it makeshift from the gate outside my apartment, barter it from the throne of my lawn chair. Use the money for the sushi that's not included in this year's full time student at North Park budget itinerary excel power point place mat. The other day I happened to walk into the theatre with my study bible still in hand; suicide. Well......Ummmmm.........You weren't supposed to see this......My religion is a green and yellow blanket that Linda crocheted for me, that I still bury my face in, that still smells like her Obsession by Calvin Klein even though it's been washed so many times it's neither green nor yellow. Feelings that shouldn't introduce themselves until the first time that skinny carrot top maggot ass prick mother fucker breaks your heart and you steel his football jersey and wrap it around the pillow like a freak, except actually it's some thrift store button down because that's your type if you were to have a type, but now you finally have simply a one. The Linda blanket is probably the most comforting and familiar and true corner of my life, it's a shroud of nothing but love and light. It's all that is good and right. I love it with my whole heart. But, there's so much I don't understand. So much intricate puzzle and pattern, so much. So much. So one of so many other functioning blankets. Yet, I always come back to my Linda blanket, especially when it's dark. But, it's not pretty. There are definitely one too many period and wine vomit stains spackeling it's frays and fold over's. When company comes I have to put it away. And the pastor's a lesbian. And I was never confirmed. I'm really into past lives. I also get that from Linda. And I'm not a Republican. And North Park is the only Christian college in the country that doesn't make you sign a letter of faith. I was raised Lutheran, but now I belong to an Episcopalian church. But, we all know by now that I wasn't really raised. So we have God to thank for that blanket. And if you haven't read the book of Job you're missing out, it's some of my favorite writing ever. Up there with Maya and Alice. And if you want to talk about books, Anne Lamont. Holy. Holy. Holy. Sometimes I read her "Some Thoughts On Faith" when the Linda blanket is stuck in the wash and wont be dry till the morning. Thank you and God bless.
Skin and Toast and Service
PS: gave up coke for lent, drinking a lot of sierra mist.