That would be me.

Where was I?

I know, I was looking for the Code of Ethics for Atheists because my sons have become them.   And they dis-respected me.   And when you’re Christians, you can say, “Christians don’t do that.   But  now that they are  Atheists, I don’t know what to tell them because I don’t know what atheists do.

Fortunately, I was able to go straight to the top on this one.    I went and saw grandma.   She is 90, and she lives with my sister, and as we snapped beans and peeled potatoes and I aid, “Mom.   The boys have disrespected the hell out of me.”   I did not tell her that the boys had proclaimed their  Atheist status.   She is 90 and I  don’t want her death on my conscience.   Mom watched the way I snapped the beans, and nodded approvingly as I took the ends off and then she said, “Forget it.”  

Which annoyed me.   Asking me to forget my sons being rude to me is like asking me to pretend there are no clouds in the sky.   It can’t be done.   Except on a cloudless day.   But, since the clouds always come back, I was in a pickle.      

“I can’t forget it mom,” I said patiently.   “They did it on purpose so that I would know that they were purposefully disrespecting me.   And they’re not babies anymore.   They’re grown men.   Mom nodded, and then said, “Forgive them.”  

And that was the end of that.  

My  Atheists are forgiven.   But because I am who I am,  I went out today and got two kitschy, cute  goldfish.   One of them covers  up the picture of  one son, and the other covers up the picture of the other son.   My daughter and my oldest son  stay just as they are.   And someday, *** willing, I  will feel impelled to take the fish away.    But it sure as hell won’t be today.  

Today I am packing for the cottage, where I will enter a Christian  enclave.   There will be church every day.   And you think you’ve got it bad.   I will skip, because pantheists are allowed to.   I can worship *** at the seashore.   You guys will doubtless stomp around in a huffy circle because the fish has got away.   I will be back.    In about a week.

I will be expecting to hear that there is something that  Atheists are good for besides making their mother’s cry.   Like maybe that you’re brave?   Loyal?   Trustworthy?   Help little old ladies across the street?  

Now that I have family in the congregation, I’d like to know when it’s my turn to bring  cookies for the coffee.   Or prayer room?   I’m good at prayer room.   Or telling distraught souls to go in peace?   I could do that  too.   Now I have to pack.    Oh, yes, and after you’ve figured out the Code of Ethics and what Atheists actually are?   I would like  to know if there are  any good-looking girls in the group.   My sons are hot.  

Wendy1  

P.S.   I think they’re actually clown fish, now that I come to look at them.   Which makes me Dory.

P.P.S.   Stephen darling.   You must think I’m mad.   Forgive me please.   It’s all that bottled water.   I think they’re putting something in it.   I’m going to start drinking mine from the tap.

     

39 thoughts on “That would be me.

  1. Wendy, the fastest and easiest way out of this mess is a good clean suicide.

    If you need me to be more specific, I’d love to get down to the details. (I’ve got some excellent ideas I’d like to see used!)

    Let me know if you’re interested.

    Hugs and nooses,
    Kamikaze189.

  2. Kamikaze, please. This is serious.

    Wendy, I think you should have your water examined. It seems you are suffering from multiple forms of psychosis, as well as an underlying personality disorder.

    Since you believe in multiple gods, it’s possible — maybe even likely — that your soul is the transdimensional rope in a multi-point tug of war between several gods.

    One way to end the struggle, is to give your soul to Jesus, because there’s only one God that actually exists, and once you give Him your soul, the other gods, which again do not exist, will stop bothering you.

  3. Dear Kami. Too sweet. So kind. Thank you for helping to make me feel at home.
    So, after I forgave my Atheists, my sister-in-law packed me off to the cottage and, when we got there, we went by the office to check in. A woman there was reading aloud from the paper, and she said, “Woman gets 40 years in U.S. prison.” Then my sister and brother and I went in town to a book store called the Rising Phoenix. There was a National Geographic there with a cover showing a fat, healthy heart. Looked good to me.
    The next day I told my sister and brother and sister and brother and neighbors and the speaker at church that I wanted to pray for the Atheists. And we did. But while the speaker was speaking, he started in on drinkers. And I was in my bare feet, and did not really want to make a spectacle of myself, but I walked out and had a smoke. Then I went back in and stunk up the place, but hey… when they came for the smokers, no one was there for me. When they come for the drinkers, I’ll try to be there for them.
    When I came out of the church, one of the girls said, “Wendy, there’s two match sticks on your chest.” And indeed, there were two match sticks on my chest, one crossed over the other. Probably must have fallen out of my cigarette case.
    After lunch, I went down to the swamp. I was looking for a snapping turtle, but I found a frog. It was camouflaged by lily pads and the green confetti stuff you find in ponds. One minute it wasn’t there. The next minute, it was.
    The frog stared at me for a while, and then came closer, and then closer, and then turned its back on me, but at one point it winked at me. You can tell from the muscles on its eye. Then there were two bright blue dragon flies doing the mid air mambo. They were blue.
    After all this frovolity, I went back to the picnic table to get down to the serious business of smoking. While I practice this, I watch the wildlife. A black squirrel jumped into the recycling bin and wagged its butt at me frantically. I threw a cracker at it. Then there was a little chipmunk, a brown ground hog, a sea gull standing guard on a stump beside me, and a heron with an 8 foot wing span two cottages down on the grass. Then, one particular seagull kept trying to dive bomb a Canada goose as it flew over the water. I’ve never see that happen before.
    Later a brown dragon fly came and landed on my arm. Shortly after that a blue dragon fly came and landed on my other arm. Then came a hornet and a spider. I like bugs. I like a little warning before they get too close, but I like them.
    Then my brother showed up and said, “Wendy, do you know what you need”. And I raised my eyebrows, and he said, “Multiple tattoes.” It could come to that.
    We watched together as the animals got pretty pushy, especially the squirrel and the chipmunk. I told my sister-in-law that the wildlife were hungry because we were double wrapping the garbage and then putting it in wooden bins. That night she threw out the leftover rice from supper. It was all gone by morning.
    The next day, I went back to the pond and found it occupied by children – 8, 7, 6 year old boys, and a 4 year old girl. They had caught a painted turtle, two frogs, and told me that the snapping turtle, that I had heard about, had taken refuge on a log.
    One of the boys was pretty informed about pond life and told me that turtles die if they are left on their back. And I looked at the little girl who was holding the little painted turtle on its back and I wondered if he had explained this in detail to her. One of the boys, who had a dinosaur on his shirt, showed me where the trapping had taken place. And one of the boys, in case I was the pond police, said, “We’re taking them to a different pond. A bigger pond.” I left them to their work.
    Back at the cabin, we had American neighbors. Four kids, two women, two men. We didn’t see much of them the first or second day, but the fourth day I shared some cigarettes, and then the men wanted to take me tubing. My brother said they would need an industrial sized tube. I explained to the Americans that he was only able to say this because he was my brother. They appeared to understand. After the sharing of the cigarettes, the guys promised to catch me some fish, but they didn’t. The sunny’s weren’t biting that day. The women didn’t come out much, but one day I woke up with a crashing headache, and one of the wives came and brought me a coffee when she saw me at the picnic table clutching my head. I was grateful.
    Once, when the dad called the kids to the boat, he said to them, “On the hop, on the hop.” I’ve never heard this expression before. I’ve heard, “Hop to it,” but it doesn’t have quite the same ring.
    The next day my niece showed up. She is recovering from a case of pityriasis, a skin rash which starts with a “Herald” rash. The rash comes up from the bottom of the back and looks like a Christmas tree. It is almost healed, except for white patches on her skin that her friends tell her make her look like a faun.
    So I asked my Christmas tree herald to say a prayer with me, and she said she couldn’t, so I held her hand and told her to repeat after me and and I have forgotten what we said, but it had something to do with Atheists.
    Then we wanted to jump in the water, but I don’t so much jump in as ease in gently. And my niece said, Aunt Wen, you have a moth on your breast. And so I did. I let him take his chances. I don’t think it was a moth though. It was beige, with 6 legs and lacy wings, but I couldn’t name it to save myself. So I jumped in the water, and my niece watched and, on a whim, I dripped water on the bug, and ended the ritual with an Amen. And the bug hung in there with me the whole way.
    Then I went back to my exercises and since I’m tired and can’t write much more, it probably should be mentioned that I saw corn, and corn and corn and lots of it. There is something about a pool. There is a welder’s tank on a bridge that I wish was not there. But I worry too much.
    The last day there, I went and sat at the end of dead man’s pier. I looked into the water and saw a hermit crab, one claw on, and feelers on the other side. He sent up a few bubbles, but not enough. So I started kicking my feet (not just yet Kami), and I swished up a bunch of bubbles, and then, on the lake, the ripples started. I liked it.
    I am home now and my Atheists have not called, but I am hanging in there. At least now I know where their congregation is.
    Stephen darling, I told my sister about you and she says if I get involved in an on-line relationship with a man, she will shoot me with a gun. It was so nice knowing you.
    xxoo
    wendy1
    Broken Bridges Sound Track.
    nite

  4. Dear Inkadu:

    The last time a doctor took my pulse, he couldn’t find it. The doctors have all had a shot at me, and from what I can tell, they are all extremely good at prescribing large amounts of expensive prescription medications that have killer side effects. I’m going for a different look here. If you know how to download musice, I’d like you to download Ashley Simpson L.U.V. And if you could clap your hands in the right places, we might get a little “magic” going on. It’s part of my earth mother ritual. And don’t worry about Kami. I am fond of him. I get the feeling we both understand pain.
    xxoo
    wendy1

  5. Sorry Inkadu. I was just mulling over the last part of your advice. Give my soul to Jesus? And the other gods will leave me alone? To the best of my understanding, there is God, and Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, and Allah, and Jaweh and Jehovah and Budha and Hashem and Set, and Kali and Loki and Athena and Nature and Zeus and the Great Spirit, and Pan and a few more. I believe there is *** in everything. I believe that it would be just like *** to throw down *** to trump every card. To make real magic. But I do not presume to know *** anymore than I presume to know Inkadu. And I do not presume to know the “right” name. When I talk about being a pantheist, it does not begin to describe the way I felt when I saw the cover of the National Geographic with the healed heart on it. And when the guys at camping said, “On the hop, on the hop”, my stomach just about left me. Because when you say hop twice, it becomes plural and I didn’t like where that led. Coincidence only carries me so far. And did I say the the bookstore was named Phoenix Rising? So I went and had a rye and coke. It is a useful drink.

    P.S. There is a panatheist around here somewhere, and I cannot help but think that the only thing that separates us is an a.
    P.P.S. I wanted to say, a eh? But it’s too easy.
    P.P.P.S. Pink is the new black.
    P.P.P.P.S. Yes, I am taking my meds. Thanks 4 not asking.

  6. Got ready for church this morning and knew it was going to be a bad day. Whenever I opt for beige panties and a black bra, it’s going to be a bad day. So I accepted that, and wore my cream pants and black lace chemise top and my uncomfortable but pretty cream cotton jacket with the transparent flower inserts. But then I put on my pink flip flops, cause pink goes with cream. And then I changed the jacket to a large floral brown, red, orange print.

    Ten minutes into church I had to go pee. This is annoying because everyone in church knows I sneak out for cigarettes often, and I try not to because my sister doesn’t really like it and you shouldn’t offend people who love you, that’s what I always say. But. So I told my sister and she said, “You can sit in the back when you’re finished”, which means, “sit in the back when you’re finished.” I’m a little big to duck out, but I made my way to the back hall and did my business and then found a guy in a black shirt there. Hmm.

    Pre-lithium, I would have thought he was CIA. Post-lithium, I decided he was a newbie. He asked where the water fountain was and I showed him and then excused myself by saying, “I’m going to go sneak a smoke”. “Me too”, he said. So we went out the side door together and I stuck my purse in the door and I said, “The door locks”. I’m glad he didn’t ask why.

    So the guy said to me, “God, Muslims, Decide, Chinese, Grandmother, Visiting. There were a lot of modifiers in there but u get the picture. Then he asked what I thought about the church and I said I (lalalalalalalalamysisterswillnotbeamusedsofigureitout) and I said I ***ed the church. Then we had that discussion where I become incoherent about my inability to describe *** and my fulminating something or other about even trying. And he said, “Why do you come here?” And I said, “To be with people.” Then, I waxed eloquent and told him that people need a commonality so that each could add to the discussions no matter what their background which is why we used a Bible, and then, tangentially, I told him that I had already found mistakes in it. And he looked interested, instead of frightened (which happens sometimes), so I told him there was the sin against the holy spirit that was unforgivable but that one of the apostles said in another book that nothing could separate us from the love of Christ. This would appear to me to be an anomaly. But it’s an interesting read. And there are Duke’s in the begats. Do not ask me why. I do not know.

    Then my newbie waxed a little wroth about differences between churches when there is supposed to be one God. I kind of nodded inside my head and thought, one ***, billions of people, you think you’re going to find unity? And I said to him, “most of the people here are concerned with taking care of their families, looking nice, enjoying the singing, making friends, and being like everybody else. (But worshipping God comes first). In church, we are being urged to care for one another, because that doesn’t come naturally for anyone, and next Sunday my congregation will bring food for a food bank I volunteer at because someone told someone to announce from the pulpit that the food bank was in need. It used to be that you could just put that in the bulletin and the needs would be met, but no-one reads anymore. You need a face.

    My newbie got away about then. I wanted another cigarette but he had a grandmother to go to, and then I caught him later with a wife and little girl. Bet they didn’t know about the cigarette. Instead of going back into church, I went looking at the pictures on the wall. North Korea needs to be prayed for. Don’t know why. The writing is in Korean. But I have prayed. Education is being represented as a Starbucks cup, with the ticks for the types of coffee being representative of classes students can take. No one was dumb enough to use the logo, but the cup stands alone and I’m impressed. There was a wrong picture on the wall. An old man, sitting on his haunches, wearing a red hat, is washing out his underwear. This is supposed to stir our hearts towards contributing towards missions. I would like to ask the photographer if he would like to be captured for posterity washing out his underwear. I’m not judging. But it is my opinion that the photo is aesthetically unappealing and not designed to produce the results intended. I saw a picture in a newspaper of a sad, blond, teenager. The caption said, “How low can she go”. If that is a real question, then the real answer is, 48. (And someone might say 60 or 70, but they’re just trying to make you feel better).

    Then I heard the praise team start up with “Blessed Be the Name of the Lord”. It’s catchy and I danced in the hall, since no one was there. Then I asked the girls in the kitchen if they needed help. This was, of course, a rhetorical question. The kitchen detail is set up months in advance and when it’s your turn, you do it. And I loathe dishes, but I like cheering up the girls, and an offer of help is always welcome. But, if I had really wanted to help, I would have set up at the sink. So the girls grinned at me, and I went outside and picked up the butts that the newbie and I placed there. I didn’t want to tell him that the church had a no smoking sign on it because I froth at the mouth whenever I see it because it now includes the parking lot, which I have always considered mine. So I waited til he was gone and disposed of the evidence. There was a blue horse on the butt of his cigarette. I thought chess, but, I like chess.

    It occurred to me that my Atheists had no song to sing in praise to the numinous, if ever they should feel the need to sing in praise to the numinous. My brother gave me a song you might like. I wrote it on the back of my wedding invitation. My brother just got back from Sallallah and he tells me he needs help – with his music. I pay attention to the “need” word. It is different from want. And I do recall pouring some water on the base of the tree of life on my prayer rug. Be that as it may, my brother gave me this song and tells me that it is to be sung in dark, gritty accents. It is a very old song and was sung by those who faced trial and tribulation and did not need to name from whence their help came. I prefer “Creator spirit by whose aid the world’s foundations first were laid…” But the creator word is probably inappropriate. So…

    Be thou my battle shield
    Sword for my fight
    Be thou my dignity
    Then my delight
    Thou my sowls shelter
    Thou my high tower
    Raise then me heavenward
    O power of my power.

  7. Red Box – Lean On Me (Ah Li Ayo)

    I was never so shocked. I found “Be Thou My Vision” on line and they have CHANGED THE WORDS. I hear “inheritance” in there. Money grubbers. Be that as it may, notwithstanding, just yuk. I give you Red Box instead. At the least I know what’s in there.

    Speaking of changing words, you should know that my people need your people and your people need my people. My people do not know what an atheist is, but they do know what an unbeliever is. An unbeliever is two letters away from being a believer, and my people can work with that. And while I don’t like to show off, an unbeliever is “one that does not believe in a particular religious faith”. I think I qualify. But an atheist is a person to be feared. They know big words. Women will gasp. We wouldn’t want that.

    You should know that the preacher preaches the party line and it is after church that the business of state goes on. This used to happen in the parking lot. Now it goes deeper and you’ve got to have family or be with family to hear it. Nobody going in on a visit for coffee is going to get anything more than “company” treatment. And there are relationships in church that intertwine and intermingle to the third generation.

    But anyone who has the time and the inclination should remember that for the purpose of obtaining information, the words, “What does God mean to you”, will elicit very different stories from very different people. There is heavy duty faith in there. It is attached to a word you don’t like, but everyone needs words. You chose Atheist. They chose God. You have to know which one is more life affirming.

    And church is not about the words of the book, even though we talk about the words of the book. Church is about going down to New York some time ago to help out. Church is about going down during Katrina and getting turned back by the police. Church is about sending the kids out on mission trips to learn how to help. We help each other. We’re supposed to help others. We know this. We just need a little lead time and a connector or two.

    Anyway, church is not going to give you sparkling repartee. Someone will say God, over and over and over. But you can go to church and be an unbeliever. And you can meet people. And over a long period of time, you will make friends. And we can all use a few more of those. And bring the kids. They can play and go to Sunday school and they’re so cute.

    While you’re pondering your next move, I’d like to take the opportunity to say that there are more than enough man-made laws to sink this ship. Is there no one who can rid me of this signage? My people are law abiding to the point of pain. It is very limiting.

    For my part, I have taken to not locking my doors until bedtime.
    I am drinking water from the tap.
    I am drinking a lot of buttermilk.

    Oh – and don’t go buying corn futures or anything okay. I just saw it and ate it and watched it grow in the fields. I didn’t go into the market. And the last time I tried to – buy stock – I had an unscheduled vacation at the funny farm and couldn’t get competent long enough to do it. (I am grinding my teeth.)

    nite

  8. Dr. LePage, Dr. Purohit, Dr. Rosebush and Dr. Bienenstock. I like Dr. Purohit best though. He took care of one of my sons as well as me, and he knows how to tell a joke and keep you waiting for the punchline. Last time I was in hospital, they were taking me to x-ray and a nurse gave me my chart to carry in my lap. So of course, I read it. And Dr. Purohit had put in under diagnosis that I was a narcissist. Well I ask you? How do you defend against a charge of narcissism?

    The time before I was in hospital, one of the nurses came up to me and said, “What do you think of Dr. Purohit?” And I said, “I think he’s the best doctor in the world. And the nurse said to me, in a lowered tone of voice, “Do you think he’s a little…short?” And I sat back in my chair and looked at her with wide eyes and said, “I think he’s ten feet tall”. Which I do. But that kind of anecdote gets around in the work place. And it can get annoying, I imagine, if you’re the one who is ten feet tall. So he wrote narcissist in my chart and that’s my label. World without end, amen.

    After I was out, I called my son and told him to tell Dr. Purohit that I was not a narcissist. It’s an impossible statement to make, especially hurled up against the wall of professional psychiatric imperturbability, but I made it anyway. And then Josh called back and I asked if he’d talked to Dr. P. for me and Josh said yes. And I asked what he said. And Josh said, “He just laughed.” Smart man.

    Anyway, Cami, I have white matter changes of the brain and these changes are in the frontal lobe where the emotional center of the brain is located. And for a very long time, I was in an emotional state similar to that of a mother who has lost a child. It went on for a very long time. And the docs gave me whatever they had in their pharmaceutical armamentarium to keep me alive. It wasn’t fun, and I wondered why.

    But after I got out of the hospital, those feelings had gone away. I am left with some short term memory loss, and curiosity, and an ability to write. Which is not always a good thing.

    I sent one of my nieces an e-mail a while back, when I was venting a bit of outrage, and it has taken me forever to patch that up. Sometimes I use my outdoor voice indoors.

    And I think of you guys as tensile and resiliant, and even, perhaps, bullet proof. But I know you’re not.

    I will back away slow…okay? Just another crazy woman. Nothing to see here folks. Let the professionals handle this. But just…don’t worry. I have seen the ending. It’s really a beginning. And it starts with pink.
    xxoo
    wendy

  9. Kami. Have you heard Pon de replay by Rihanna yet? I know it’s an oldie, but I think it suits the occasion. And then there is Rihanna’s SOS. It’s really just a song, but, I like it.

    And Kami? My boss left me a message about my work, and she sounded worried, and I have returned her call and she will return mine, but if there is a problem at my work vis a vis my computer because of you guys, then you guys are history. My work is 97% accurate. So you’d better not have been messing with my files. As well, my songs aren’t downloading and if they don’t start doing it soon, then it’s ditto. And now, I need a nap. Keep it down to a dull roar out there, or I’ll call your father.
    xxoo
    mom.

  10. I can’t say I have heard that tune. Nor am I going to go buy it or obtain it illegally. Not for any moral reasons, though, more for time consumption reasons. I think you’ll understand.

    Also, as far as death threats go, “you guys are history” is a pretty tame one. If you want to instill fear, you need to be more aggressive with us. Perhaps a “I’ll find out where your kids go to school” or a “see you in the parking lot – you know where I mean.”

    (None of us have any connection to “your files.” )

    If you’re visiting our quiet and oh-so-friendly website address (www.ravingatheists.com/blog/) I don’t know why your boss would be worried about taking note of it. Invite her to the site, perhaps, or to read our thoughtful responses. She’d be mighty impressed that I even offered to help you commit suicide, I’m sure!

  11. Such a wonderful mind. I’m shakin. And I was playing with the idea of making you the Church of the Unbelievers, so you could apply for tax thingies? But it doesn’t work out well in the acronym. Sigh. You’re busy. I understand. I personally am washing my hair, or may be at some time in the near future. I find it interesting that you think that my boss would be mightily impressed that you even offered to help me commit suicide? Your logic eludes me, but mine eyes dazzle. And I don’t think that was meant for me, but I’ll take it on the chin if it is. I think I would help someone commit suicide if their need was great. Mine isn’t. Oh ***, you meant the song. (You have so many layers, it’s like peeling an onion). I can hardly wait to listen to it. And I won’t share it either. In point of fact, I am sending people to http://www.ravingatheists.com/blog/. It’s kind of grassroots right now. But 1 plus 1 plus 1 equals whatever. Quid pro quo, might I point you to wendy@newdirection.ca. I think, it’s a start, and no, I’m not there, but my nephew is, but he’s not, but you will know what I mean. Anyway, help me out here angel. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak and a girl has got to breathe sometime. ngtlygwendy

  12. “And I was playing with the idea of making you the Church of the Unbelievers, so you could apply for tax thingies? But it doesn’t work out well in the acronym.”

    COTU? Could be worse.

    ” I find it interesting that you think that my boss would be mightily impressed that you even offered to help me commit suicide?”

    Kidding, of course.

    “But 1 plus 1 plus 1 equals whatever.”

    Not 3?

    And are you saying I/we/atheists should email you? Or your nephew?

  13. I’m glad you think COTU could be worse. When you choose your words, vis a vis me, try to shine your spotlight on your happy place. No. Not that happy place. The happy memory place. And kidding can be fun, but there was someone who once said that children kill frogs in fun, but the frogs die in earnest? And of course, they’re only frogs, and children should learn about death and dying, but SMACK just the same. The 1 plus 1 plus 1. I can’t count. It’s a disability. Some people have them. And no, you don’t have to e-mail anyone. New Direction is an offering to Ra, which is not a tithe, which I don’t, dontcha know. When I first saw Ra’s site, there was a piece there that stated that discriminating against homosexuals was a hate crime and my church was on the list of offenders. And I read the work, and my mouth dropped open and I felt like my slip was showing. Ra was right. I was wrong. Don’t you hate when that happens? So New Direction is a place for the otherwise alternately gendered to find safe havens in church society? And places like that don’t happen without a lot of behind the scenes smoking, so I thought I’d bring it up. I understand that my church is not perfect, just as I understand that unbelievers are not perfect. Be that as it may, I like to see stones brought that build bridges. I haven’t been to New Direction yet, but there’s a fund raiser in October that I’m going to. I have to check the place out and I’ve heard enough from my nephew to give it a thumb up, but I have to hear the people there before I can give it two. The language on the paperwork is wonderfully non-specific, which is kind of fun. Speaking of gender, Angel…we haven’t, and I’ve wondered, and I wanted you to know that if your gender is alternate than I would love to give you a hug. And then another one. And we could probably have a coffee. But Kamikaze is not really gender specific, so, occasionally, I wonder. And if you’re a girl? We could have a cup of tea and I’ll smile at you. And there would probably be hugs happening there too. And numbers would be exchanged. But that’s about it. Be that as it may, and no matter your accessories or lack thereof, I will have always had a piece of your…mind. And it was very, very, very, very good.

    P.S. Somebody called me Sweetie the other day. I was indignant. That’s my word.
    P.P.S. I am a girl.
    P.P.P.S. Well, I’m probably a woman, but that’s mostly on the outside.
    I understand that you’re juggling a lot right now, and you have to pick up a pin that has dropped. Go get em honey.

  14. I left my camel whip at mom’s place, and I am missing it sorely. It has come to my attention that some of the congregation are into self-flagellation and I am here to tell you that I am sick of it. If there is any beating to be done around here, I will administer the beating. And I’m not into whips. Except for the one at mom’s that came from Sallalah.

    That whip is special, because when we were in Oman, we were driving through the country side and a blind man waved his camel whip in the air and my brother stopped the car to pick him up. And he, perforce, had to go in the back seat with me. Fortunately, he was blind, and therefore did not have to do penance for sitting with a woman. Also, he was old, and had probably learned that sitting with a woman wasn’t the worst thing he could be doing on a hot, hot, hot, hot day. But he kept looking at me – out of his cataract filled eyes, and I looked over at him, and felt uncomfortable for him, because I was a woman, and the wrong color and the wrong faith, and while he certainly appeared to have eye problems, he could quite clearly see – something. Because every time my brother pointed to a lane that might be Ali Adawabi, where the man had asked to go, the blind man would shake his head and gesture vigorously with his camel whip onwards. So after a number of miles, and a few more shouted queries, the aged gentleman shook his cane out the window and shouted “Wadi alawabi”, and my brother turned in and found a man standing on the road who took the senior and pointed him in the direction he wanted to go. All was well. His countryman knew of him, and knew that he was blind and this is deserving of every courteous attention in that culture. But to my sure knowledge, he could also see, and so I asked my brother about that. “Wendel”, he said, “If you’re old and a beggar on the streets, everyone has to give you a ride. But you can’t ride with women. Unless you can’t see them.”

    So I want my camel whip that my brother gave to my mother, that I asked for and received because I wanted something to remember the day by. And to remind myself that blind men can see. But not for anything else. Beating yourself up after the fact is a little self-indulgent, and we don’t want any more of that.

    But, if you want a little novena, then I’ll get you to read a poem I wrote when I was not that old. It isn’t terribly good and it has never been published, and I forget the middle verse, so have fun with it.

    The fool has said there is no ***,
    I have said it too.
    For want of something better at that time and place to do.
    Then there was the thought,
    that if a *** there be,
    *** could stand the scrutiny of me.

    (this is the part i can’t remember, lalalalalalalalalalal)

    turned to find creation, laughing down at me,
    turned to find a child at hide and seek.
    The fool gets no answer, but the child, the child gets there,
    with a call of one, two three, home free.

    I always liked it. But I never could figure out the middle verse.

    Anyway, I have found my Kool-Aid TM, and quite like it. It is orange, and I quite like that too. My next favorite is yellow and then comes purple. Kool-Aid TM is so economical too. A little sugar, a little water from the tap, and then boom. Koolaidy goodness. Perhaps I’m being a little too heavy on the sarcasm here, but when I was a kid it was Kool-Aid. Someone always has to add extra letters, and numbers and words, when the stuff was perfectly good the way it was.

    Someone in the congregation has pointed out that the music that is purchased or downloaded might be a bit of an issue. My moral stance is that my dad poured music into the air for 70 years. The piano and the organ were okay, but when he started learning the violin, it was very hard on the ears. But I persevered and thus I figured that if I could capture a note, or two or three or four, from the air, they’re a gift from my father. The boss thinks otherwise. Apparently. But doesn’t really appear committed either way. Thus I will intuit. I won’t do it anymore. Probably. But I have DJ Markski’s lalalalalalal from my daughter’s file, so that’s the doxology for the day. K? Peace be upon you.

    P.S. Kami. You are such a ****.

  15. “Kamikaze is not really gender specific, so, occasionally, I wonder. And if you’re a girl?” Nope, I’m male. And I have to say you’re quite a story-teller… whether or not these stories are totally true. “P.S. Kami. You are such a ****.” A ****? I won’t guess that one.

  16. Thank ***. I find it hard to bounce my brain off girls. They immediately want to fix things, when really, there’s nothing they can do. Oh and Kami? You took away my toy. But I couldn’t say **** if I had a mouthful. Well, actually, I could. But if I start, then pull the plug.

    Haven’t had my coffee yet…and the head is a 1.5 on the Richter scale. And I woke up with a story, but I’ll have to smoke it through. But I was hoping you were there. I like to see your voice at the end of the tunnel. Talking to myself is like ************. Good for the moment, but no one to bump up against and laugh at later.

    Excuse me. I see that the coffee is ready.

    I’m quite a story-teller? Moi? Oh ****, you’ve been talking to Stephen. And he brought it up. And I’d seen the story, and heard the story, way too many times. And I believe the story cause I watched it, without the voice over and the commentary and oh ***, did I feel sick. Why do you think I came here lighting a candle? For the good of my health?

    So maybe it’s old news, even if it never made the papers. But I have worked in a hospital and I have seen news that never made the paper. It was always really interesting news, and it made me feel a little strange, knowing stuff that other people didn’t. We used to talk it out in the staff room later, and it helped us feel better. But that stopped. Too many girls wanted to make brownie points by talking to the supervisor about our inappropriate conversation. So we’d go outside and smoke. Then that stopped too.

    Anyway, I talked to one of my girl friends, who has an autistic son, and a crack baby and a child from ****, and a rock solid church, where they can still smoke in the parking lot, and I said, “Why is no one talking?” And she said, “You have to move on.” And I said, “How can you heal if you don’t grieve?” And my girlfriend said, “You have to move on. It’s 6 on one side and 6 on the other.”

    Clarity was a little lacking here, but she and I have talked in shorthand for years. Even then I still didn’t know what she had said. But I believe in the need to grieve, and then the need to move on. And for readers, the talking about it doesn’t really help. You have to see it in black and white. It happened. Some people know. They are moving on. This is to help you do so too. Hence, the candle.

    And hence the moving on.

    I looked up some Indian customs the other day, and one of them was that tobacco was used in rituals to cleanse the land.

    The government will tell you that smoking causes Lung Cancer, Heart Disease, Emphysema and May Complicate Pregnancy.

    Who yah gonna believe?

    Sigh. There’s always an ******* in the back of the class. Probably the same guy who thought I was an act. That’s “class act” to you sweetheart. For your information, it is a little known and never documented fact that non-smokers die too. Always. Without exception. You can smoke and help cleanse the land, or you can not smoke and die anyway. Your choice.

    And for you health nuts, with tummy trouble, you should know that The New England Journal of Medicine will tell you that smoking is good for irritable bowel disease. And it will also tell you that schizophrenics smoke heavily. I didn’t really want to bring that up? But one day, coming home from work, where people were dying from taking drugs they didn’t need, I stared up at the moon and snarled, “I’m not schizophrenic. This world is schizophrenic.” And anyway, I’m a narcissist. Dr. Purohit said so.

    A lot of time has gone by since I said that. I’m not sure how much. And I have to do brunch in a few hours. And I probably still have a little bit of a job, so I have to go to it. And then brunch, which I hate, because it is a compromise between breakfast and lunch, but I hear there are waffles. Maybe with whipped cream and syrup? And, I love my nephew. So I will go.

    And don’t buy any of those expensive cigarettes. See what they’re going for at the reservation. Find the reservation. Do not wear a suit. They will laugh at you if you wear a suit and I don’t want that. Dress appropriately for the occasion. Belay that. If *** is good, and I’m sure *** is, then one of you will have a car that you tricked out yourself. If you are out there, then it is your job to go to the reservation and pick out smokes. Dress like you do when you work on your car. Look around and listen. Don’t talk much. And see what you hear. The car, that you worked on yourself, gives you the respect that you need to be allowed to hear what is being said.

    The song for the day is Donkey Riding by Great Big Sea. I see Road Rage somewhere on the line and have no idea what that it is for, but, I like Donkey Riding.

  17. Spoiler alert: Don’t listen to Donkey Riding. I just did and there’s stuff in it that I didn’t want to say. I just liked the Donkey part, because it’s MY verse in the *****. Something about “don’t be like a donkey that has to be beaten to see the way”. Totally paraphrased. Don’t know where it is. But it was always the verse my ***** would flip to when I didn’t know what choice to make. Listen to the Theme from Pirates of the Carribean instead. The theme mind you, the short one, not the long one.

    Kami: I think I **** you. But something tells me you’re a bit too young for me. May I admire you from a distance?

  18. Umph. I went to talk to the doctor’s a while ago Kami. They might remember me. One of them sent me a note detailing an operation where he cut out my heart. So I sent him back a note saying “My loved one has my heart and I have his. A fair exchange, one for the other given.” (Raleigh?) That means I own them. When you return love for hate, you kinda sorta gain the moral high ground. Anyway, I chatted with one of the doctors through a back door, and then they threw extra security on the line but I can get to them when I need to. They could have shut me down completely, but, they didn’t. They listened, they answered, and then they sent me to the Health Records Department, where a very nervous girl called me and asked what she should do with the paperwork. I told her to shred it. I bet she did.

    Bottom line. Every single doctor in North America documents the smoking habits of each patient. If a patient dies, it can be attributed to smoking. I don’t like it. I know the number of patient’s who die from doctor error, drug error, just plain error, error, and I know that instead of acknowledging error, many doctors will stand in the middle of the room and say, “Did the patient smoke?” “Was the patient ever exposed to second hand smoke?” And the grieving family take the wrong message home. I guess, “We all die”, isn’t specific enough for the docs. They like getting answers to their questions, and “I don’t know” doesn’t get good marks on tests.

    It’s not good enough, and they need to stop. If they want to be looked up to as leaders in the community, then they need to lead. Um….I was going to say, “Make it so”, but I’m not Jean Luc Picard. And I know you can’t do it? But *** can. I shall smoke on it.

    P.S. Kami, the picture my nephew made for me had a wolf pulling a wooden wagon in it. Not to worry. Wolves don’t eat people. And the tree with the apples? on it? I had that the last time too. It was all good. But I’m looking to the two trunks entwined now in the blue prayer rug. I keep it on my couch and I had a nap there yesterday, and it felt good.

    P.S.S. You don’t have to **** me back. But, can we be *******?

  19. Kamikaze. My bird came home to nest. Mama bear has her cub. The Indians are off the warpath – and SOMEBODY says I can’t play anymore. So, I’m taking my ball and bat and I’m going home. But I’m going to MISS you. So much. If you’re ever in Canada, come see me. You should know where I live. And if you show up, and you had better, but of course it’s your choice, but if you come? I want to look in to your…eyes.

    P.S. Stikwitu – Pussycatdolls
    P.P.S. I’m reading Harry Potter now. DON”T call me.
    P.P.P.S. 0

  20. Kami? Kami? Kami? Are you there? Kami? Kami, I want to come play and it’s raining outside, and I want to come play but I’m so CONFUSED. See, I went to the brunch party and I had a waffle with whipping cream and syrup and it was so good, but then I had to go to the front of the house and smoke and there was a man working on his car and he put music on and it said that somebody loved me and to go away. Kind of. There were nice parts. I like jazz but only a little bit at a time because it makes me feel too much. And then there was a bird missing from the Rose of Sharon tree and I was kind of scared, but my niece said it was okay because it was big enough to leave the nest but then it came back. But the music told me to go away. And then I went to the grocery store and there was a baby and his mom had pony tails in his hair and I said, oh, what a cute baby, and his mom said, he’s a boy, not a girl, everyone makes that mistake.” And I thought, “that’s nonsense”. And before that, my phone had rung and there were 14 or 15 beeps which comes to N or O in the alphabet, so I thought it was daddy saying, “No nonsense.” And then I was on the internet and somebody said, “Why can’t you keep a secret?”, so I thought you were mad at me. And then I watched Rick Mercer because he makes me giggle, and at the end of his show he said, “If you’re in ******** on the weekend, walk down to ******* college where there will be a class for dealing with difficult people. If you can’t spot the difficult person after 5 minutes, it’s you.” And I thought he was talking about me Kami. So I didn’t know what to do. But when I woke up this morning, there was an 0 in my cereal bowel, which was full to tea-brown water, so I took it as half a sign that I should “Go ahead”. And then I thought that the first two letters of my apartment number are 7, which is G, and 0 which is 0 and then for. And everybody knows that if you say, Go for **, then the ** stands for what everybody knows.

    Kami, it’s not a secret if everyone knows. I punched it into my internet and it said only 16% of people don’t believe it. I bet they’re all children. And children don’t do well with big bad secrets. They always think it’s their fault. I had a big bad secret when I was little that I thought was my fault. (Not that you perv.) And I thought it was my fault because nobody explained it to me. And when I was big, I knew it wasn’t my fault, but my inside still thought it was my fault, and I couldn’t play with anybody because of the way my inside felt. And now I know it’s not my fault and I want to come and play and the internet wants to know why I can’t keep a secret. Like, just, ha.

    I watched T.V. last night for an hour because SOMEBODY made me. And I hate having to watch T.V. but it was HOMEWORK. So I watched it with the sound OFF, because I don’t like somebody telling me what to think.

    Before I took off my big people ears, it was a show about manatees. But then I turned off my ears, and I saw big, funny looking animals eating lettuce in the water. And there was a baby manatee. And it was so cute. And then a scary man with a red hat came and talked to other men and then they dragged the manatee out of the water and put it into a blue stretcher and then lots of men and some girls jumped on it and wouldn’t let it get away and then they put it in a truck and it was dead. And then there were three manatees, all of them, dead. And then a scary man with knives came and cut a hole in the manatee and showed me the bloody bit he had cut out. And then they put the manatee in the truck. And then they drove to a place and put the dead manatee into a red stretcher, and then they put it in the water and then it was alive again. I dunno. It was awful. It made me want to be sick. And I do not like the man in the red hat and I do not like the red net. It was ick.

    So I turned it off and then I watched Rick Mercer and heard about the class at the college and giggled. Like I know when that is. Like I could make it there on time. Plus, I’m grammy sitting on Saturday or Friday but I think I’m home Sunday but I have church in the morning. And I’m old school sweetie, and I don’t know what day it is. And I don’t know what time it is unless I look at the clock and count backwards by memories. You are a good memory of mine. And, um, you, uh, did forget the ******** word I used? Cause where I come from, it’s a ** **. I believe, these days, it’s called a flower. Anyway, you’re a good memory of mine because I read your book. It was wonderful. But we’ve never met. And I know all about the editing process. You were trying to make yourself look good. What are you like on a wing and a prayer?

    P.S. I played Indian religion last night. Dot, not feather. Ewwwww. But I’m sure I could get used to it if I drank it every day.
    P.P.S. I’ll listen. Be polite. I’m (shy) until I get to know you.

    Symphony No. 9, Scherzo

  21. I can see we’re having trust issues angel. Sigh. Men can be so coy. If you want to know a little bit more about me, go to Wilmington, Delaware. My sister taught music there for 30 some odd years? She was a bit of a powerhouse, my sister. A musician to her bones, and fascinating in a “you are so wonderful” way. The kids used to call her Miss Bowstrum, because they couldn’t pronounce her last name. As for me, I’m a plain Jane kind of woman. I’m not into gold, because bronze is the new gold with those wonderful Han Dynasty bronzes thy’re pulling out of the ground in China….which is a very nice place and I have relatives there thank you very much. But I have some silver in my jewellry box because it’s very Wiccan and I don’t know much about Wiccan’s except that they bring food for every festival. And they use silver jewellry as a symbol of something. Not sure what. But don’t bring me gifts. Jewellry is too personal. I hear the first anniversary is paper.

    I was sitting on my balcony and I saw a man go by with a walker and some scrap metal on it. And the song, “Who’s cheating who, and who’s being blue, and who don’t even care anymore”, came into my head.

    But before that I was out in the backyard and watched the apartment buildings catalpa tree, and a black ant, was going one way and bees were landing on the sap of the tree and taking off.on the other side of the tree. I’ve always wanted to follow a bee and see where it stores its honey. And I like bees. I think they’re VERY efficient, and they work hard for their honey. Um. I got your little message. *** knows where you find the time. Good for you sweetheart. I’m so impresssed. And I’m really glad you’re not a ******. *** knows they perform a service, but it reminds me of the angels announcing the birth of *** to the shepherds, who are all very well and good in their way, but some of them forget about the needs of their sheep, speaking of which, I had to choose between you and *** last night. Guess who I picked. xxoome

  22. P.S. I picked up an American boxing glove key chain in the dollar store yesterday? It was the last one they had. So I took it home and, honey, I’m sorry but, it’s kind of ****. So I got out some yellow paint and tried to improve it a little, but it turned into a “thumbs up” U. But it didn’t really work, and as a craft, I think I’ll give it up. Would it be alright if we went for a just us eh?
    P.P.S. I promised my sisters that I wouldn’t go out with any man they didn’t approve of? So you’ve got your work cut out for you.
    P.P.S. Down. The black ant was going down the tree. I’m such a perfectionist. And if the black ant was going down, then it you looked straight at the tree, the bees were landing and taking off to the right.
    P.P.P.S. I’ve always wanted to date a sailor. Something about sailors and boats. It will come to me.
    P.P.P.P.P.S. Guess what I’m doing right now. 000

  23. Where was I. Uh. We were discussion theology as per *** being the numinous, and God being a ridiculous attempt by humans to label and thus control their deity. Does anyone have anything to say about that?

  24. Guess not. Just for interest’s sake, you should know that when you clear out your apartment to put in a new floor, you shouldn’t throw the floor boards down the shute. Someone has to pick up after your mess, and it isn’t going to be me.

    I have tried to be patient, and I went and looked at a baby, because babies always cheer me up, but the baby has gone and I have offloaded much of my annoyance, but there’s something I have to say to you.

    Go to your room.

    Turn off your TV, your DVD, your telephone, your computer, and whatever other toy you own. Throw out your shredder. Turn out the lights. Look out the window. Look up at the sky. Do not babble. You are grown ups now. Ask yourself if you really believe that you came from nothing. If you do, then I would like to introduce you to your mother. Look her in the eyes, and tell her to her face that she is nothing.

    For the rest of us:

    There is ***. *** created you. You have a life force within you that is equal to the power of the sun. I do not know ***. But, I can feel the power of *** flowing through my veins, and it’s not Coke baby. It’s not even the nice new logo on the Pepsi can. It’s life.

    We are all a part of it. I am a part of you, and you are a part of me, and I can feel you as surely as you feel me.

    I will tell you the good stuff later. The stuff about elephants trumpeting, and turtles stretching out their necks and ice cold freezies being lifted up to catch the last drop of juice in the bag.

    But that is for later. Right now, your heads are down. I was going to go for a walk and I felt really drained. So I took two cans of iced tea out of the fridge and came to see you because I figured that’s what *** wanted me to do. So I am here to tell you that you are not children. You know how to clean up a mess, and that doesn’t mean throwing your garbage down the shute. And this doesn’t mean that you run to the woods and hide in your fort. You’re big boys and girls now. This is the part where you run to your neighbor and see how you can help them. Help them. Yeah. Them. It’s not about you. It’s about the neighbor next door to you. You can’t fix the world honey. That’s ***’s job. But you can help your neighbor. And if you can’t help your neighbor because you can’t see their house from where you live, then plant some corn. It’s a nice plant, and easy to grow and it gives you – corn.

    You have struck all the committee’s you’re going to strike. It’s time to make real friends. Friends that stick around to do dishes when the party’s over. Make friends with your neighbor and plant some corn. It’s not a hard thing to do. And when you make friends with your neighbor, listen more than you speak. You guys talk too fast. Makes us think you’re hiding something. (It’s cultural). You’ll have your turn to talk later. And I hope your neighbor knows what to do with the corn, cause I don’t.

    Not one continent at a time people. One person at a time.

    And the doxology is: Find me somebody to love.

    P.S. Which I could be listening to right now if somebody didn’t have a ridiculous attitude towards downloading music…
    P.P.S. I’ve got a smudge pot going on in the antiseptic salve tin that I keep my butts in. Interesting.
    P.P.P.S. I’m better at this than you are. Admit it. Come on. Admit it. But I love how you do what you do.

    I was going to leave but I see that there is a doubting Thomas in the congregation. There’s always one. Okay Thomas. I’m here on behalf of your mom. And your mom says, “church of the unbeliever”.

    ttyl
    be gooder.

  25. Guys. Guys. You’re never going to believe it. (Which is good, in a very real way.) I was laying on the couch, underneath my blue prayer rug, when I looked at the inside of my eyelids? And they were blue! With green at the bottom. The coolest blue, and kind of a fluorescent green? Oh, and before that, I sorta saw pink, but it was sorta, not really? More like an impression of pink? But in the middle of the blue there was a teensy bit of white, and someone said, “open your eyes”. And I said, “I can’t. I’ll die if I do.” And then I saw the blue, and the green and some ripples of color. And then I was disgusted with myself for not having the guts to open my eyes. And then I did. And I saw white plaster. And I have looked at it and I can’t figure out what it is. I mean, it’s white plaster? And you know how the plaster guy loops it? Well, it’s looped. And then, I remembered how I wouldn’t open my eyes, because I thought I would die? And then I giggled. Because I know that we can’t die. We’re forever. It’s not a story. I’m not making it up. Honest. Jeeze. I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Mom says I tell stories.

  26. Wendy… you sure typed a lot. So I can only respond to a little of it.

    You said, “Ask yourself if you really believe that you came from nothing.” I would say I do, although I would not phrase it negatively. And, even though this was a rhetorical device in your post, I think it’s something worth discussing. You also say that god is a feeling, but feelings are subjective. You don’t really know if I feel what you feel or if I experience what you experience. This makes emotions and feelings an unreliable source of evidence. I could just as soon say that you do not feel god. So as far as that goes, I’m not convinced.

  27. I detect the fine hand of a master. I am found in amazement. Did I say *** is a feeling? I would go back and look, but that was yesterday, and…

    I don’t think this body can experience *** as other than a feeling. And the feeling has a certain raunch, visceral, muddy, squirty, slimy, spitty, primeval roar to it. Try channelling that, when you have been raised to never accept a better second invitation in favor of a first, not quite so attractive proposition.

    I think it is the Indians (dots) who have raised sex to a transcendental level. They have a book out there with lots of…sermonettes. And when you think of the poverty of the word “sex”, then you can imagine how *** does not begin to describe ***. I dare not speak the name. But the name dares speak 2 me. And I am pixie stix.

    Plus, angel, it is not my place to convince you of anything. It is my place to thank you. From the bottom of my heart.

    Before I met you, I had no voice. I had good manners and a book, but I had no voice. And now, I am aware that I am bellowing, in an un-ladylike fashion, but this is a really good game. My side has taken the field and I am twirling my baton, and, I have not dropped it, yet. And if I do? Then there’s a soft bed, and a window seat and gentle voiced women urging me to drink. Things could be worse. Although they won’t let me smoke, and well…the writer who coined the phrase *******-**** couldn’t have put it better. *** bless him/her.

    My bedroom door just slammed shut. Don’t you hate it when that happens? I took away the ugly plastic roller cart that keeps it open, and well, the wind catches the door and “Blam”. It startled me. So I had best get out the ugly plastic roller cart and put it back. Somebody told me that it looked like a Port-a-Potty. And I said, “What a vile thing to say”. But, it made me laugh. And it doesn’t look like a Port-a-Potty. It looks more like those old milk crates they used to have back in the day. But Port-a-Potty is funnier.

    Sleep tight. See you in the morning. The word of the day is Selimh.
    P.S. Three sons of the desert looking me in the eye yesterday. The last one didn’t want to but he did. Good for him. His mother should be proud.

  28. P.S. The plastic glitter is in the (picture a floor tile. there are 7 layers in it. The plastic glitter is a bit more than half way over, at the top of the tile, so, on the 7th level. (Where do you come up with these insane puzzles?)
    P.P.S. I was going to take issue with your over one teeny tiny little word, and actually lifted my chin for a minute there. And then, I figured it out. Wow.

  29. Hey hon. Besides the coffee, could you get some of that Benedetto mineral water that I like? It’s all gone and I’m not feeling well enough to get to the recycling bin so it’s in the garbage. Oh. I’m supposed to tell you that the tree is about a third as big as the apartment building, looming over it, and the large radio tower comes next and after that is…morning. There’s a flu bug going around and I feel a little sick. Hope I didn’t give it to you. But it’s not that bad. You just need a blanket for the chills. xxoome

  30. Hi guys. I just talked to ***, which is always a little strange. I had to say the word “accept”, which I did. Then, I had to choose between growing a ***** or having a mate and a baby. Guess which I chose? I thought it was all very unusual, so I pretended, sort of, that I was dreaming.

    Anyway, *** says that *** doesn’t care what you look like and that mom made you ******** who you are. *** loves you. *** loves you a lot. And *** wants you to comb your hair. Don’t ask me why. But I could have twisted that in with my mom, who always wants me to comb my hair.

    I introduced *** to my mate because I was a little worried about him. But mom pulled the pop tab and showed me that underneath the silver metal the can teemed with life. Which reminded me of the Pepsi logo which is old, but the new logo which is – better. But I personally like Coke, with all the sugar.

    In the Church of the Unbeliever, there will be no husbands and wives. There will be mates. (It’s very British). And there will be suggestions, and comments and discussions and probably the occasional hissy fit, but there will be only one law.

    Love one another.

    You don’t have to write that down. It’s your memory work for ever.

    P.S. My sister has told me that love is an action, so get with it people.
    P.P.S. Is my anniversary present on its way?
    P.P.P.S. Like, whatever. Where’s my 0?

  31. Church of the Unbeliever:

    The first order of business today is to forgive Kamikaze for telling me to ****** *******. Kamikaze is forgiven and we won’t speak of it again. (Sit up straight dear, don’t make a fuss). Only, we are unforgiven, (see part something of the service) so we don’t say forgive. We say sorry.

    Now, dear children, let us play.

    My, this is hard. Let’s pretend I’m a crazy person, shall we? Not a nice word, and not a nice label, however, let’s let that be so.

    The crazy person (don’t use that word dear. it’s special.) is breathing in the smoke from the fire and drinking water to consume it. It is not an easy task, but *** picked me, because *** thinks I’m special.

    *** thinks you’re special too. *** does not like (sorry. son just called. he’s into the cooking sherry and wants me to send him a check. NOT). But he loves me and I love him.

    He told me to talk to the plants.

    That being the case, I went to the peace plant on my window sill, and I said, give me a little help here would ja. And I kissed the plant. And then, I licked it. And we can see where this is going, so let’s just stop right there, because there are children here.

    Lots of them. And they don’t even know how to read and you’re dropping your genitals and breasts in their lap. Get a grip. There are bedrooms. Use them.

    And once you’ve restrained your appendages, give thought to the art of the hug. I used to be able to hug children. I can’t anymore. There are rules about that sort of thing. Someone in the Church of the Unbeliever appears to believe that hugging might lead to touching and touching might lead to life. This will cease. Don’t write it down honey. The shredder is gone.

    When I went to the middle east, the men held hands loosely at the fingertips. When I went to the middle east the men leaned their foreheads against each other in greeting, just to say hello. Hello is a powerful word. It should not be used lightly. It made my mouth go dry. I had to go and get a drink of water.

    Everywhere I went in the middle east, the men were sitting in a circle. And there were so many circles, that I finally got up the courage to find out what they were doing. They were playing dominoes. I was terrified. Uh huh. Yeah. Big threat. I can see it. Not. Oh boy. And the women were huddled in groups of 7 or 8 or 9, giggling at the boys, who sometimes called them bad names (it’s alright. i know you’re sore).

    Reminded me of grade school. Girls on one side and boys on the other. Sorted according to sex. (we don’t say that here).

    In the category of insects, sub-species something or other, there are so many different varieties (someone please tell me how many), that classifications are yet being found. (someone please tell me how many). And you think we don’t have that in humans? You think that there’s a better boy or a lesser girl, or a mannish whatever, my ***, how dare you be so (drink of water, drink of water). Sorry. *** says everyone is different, and unique in their own way. The boys club and the girls club took over, that’s all. There’s a new club in town.

    We are black. It’s such a cool color. We want it. We like it. It doesn’t age at all. So we tell bad stories about it. But we wannnnt it. We tannnnn for it. We likeeeee it. It’s cool. And the cooler you are the more the other clubs try to put you down. Cuz they want it. THey need it. They gots to, gots to, gots to have it. Uh huh. And they talk so cool. (Try to look like them dear. Get the right shoes.)

    And we are brown. Uh huh. Uh huh. And we are yellow, (i don’t think i see that color honey, it’s more like a good tan. red. don’t see red much these days. white. there are so many shades. and i’m wearing fuschia. i thought it was pink but there are hues. no one told me about hues. where was the memo? yes we are, and we are green with envy. (Note to self. Envy not allowed).
    We are the unbelievers and the unforgiven and the unrepentant. (but I like this line and i don’t want to kill it. think of it as a riff.)

    (That’s alright dear. Just comb your hair.)

    We are bad dudes, and we have genitals and *** thinks they’re lovely the way they are, as long as we comb our hair. (And just let me put a little spit on the hankie dear. There’s a smudge on your nose.) Yeah. We are tough, rough, bluff, stuff, with fingernail polish on.

    Long pause.

    We are human.

    cue pause.

    We are becoming. We have blood in our veins and it is coursing to our heart and it is beating like the buffalo drum. We know what it is to be and we are one and we are free to be. (Accesories may cost more). There’s a lot of work in becoming. It needs water to put out the fire. There is the fire not to be fed. There are plants to be talked to and dishes to wash and we put them in the sink and combine our spit and our hands and our touch and we put the dishes in the rack on the counter and then we get a towel and dry them and put them away for another day.

    The cursor is anting its way across my screen, pointing me in the direction of the door. Going to look now. There’s no one there. There was no one there yesterday and no one there tomorrow and there really is no one there. No one.

    So why are you locking the doors? click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click. don’t you feel a little foolish. (don’t say that honey. you might hurt someone’s feelings.) I’ll say it if I like. I am sick to death of hearing the click of locks on cars and doors where no one’s home.

    Just your mother. Do you hear me. Your mother who needs you to call, and see if you’re alright, and check to make sure you’re eating and stuff. It’s what a mother’s do. And what are you doing for her, I ask you. What are you doing for her. SMACK. Get on up to your room.

    Burning hot. Liking it. Rollin with it. Take me home and the choir sings, click, click, click, click.

    Open the doors.

    (My that was a good service wasn’t it. Reminded me of some I’ve been at in days gone by. You be sure to come over for supper soon now, y’hear. Give my best to Aunt Charlotte. Such a dear, such a dear.)

    P.S. Loved the donkey. Reminded me of the Indians (feathers) who hold their mates up to the ???
    P.S.S. Doxology, Red Box. (change men to person).
    P.S.S. Show off.

  32. Kami. I just woke up and daddy says to leave overseas alone. Daddy says overseas is all about numbers and I don’t understand numbers. Daddy says the numbers are all about games I don’t want to play and he woke me up to make me tell you and I remembered to be a big girl and use my words. But I don’t know why daddy is here. Oh. Daddy comes here when he wants to plant a garden. He planted a garden at my old house for gajillions. Beans. Beans, bean, beans, beans, beans. Daddy liked his beans, There are green beans and red beans and white beans and kidney beans and bruine boontjes and there were beans that I will never know the names of. And he would plant the beans and then bring a 6 quart to my door, after he had picked them for me and he would say, “Honey. You have to pick the beans.” And how could I tell him that I didn’t really like beans, after he had roto-tilled, and hoed, and dug and planted and weeded and watered and grown. It just seemed like the worst kind of rudeness. To tell your daddy you didn’t like his beans after all the work he’d put into them. I mean, he even had a kind of beans that he had a flail made for, so that he could dry the beans, and beat the beans and keep the beans over. There was a bag of beans in the house at mom’s house the size of a sack. Daddy had a flail. Whew. A flail. Not many people have a flail in their family history. But we do. And of course I do not like beans. It leaves one feeling inadequate somehow. And you will be so proud of me Kami. I didn’t light a cigarette until just now…are you insane, man, i couldn’t, bloody, breathe. Where is my air supply? Trying saying that without smoke in your lungs. Try to remember a dream and then wake up and walk to the computer and find your place on the page and put it down before it goes away because it always goes away and there is another game on the table and there is no one over there but children and old men playing children and daddy doesn’t like throwing stones. Daddy doesn’t get mad often, but when he does, look out. I remember once he was playing violin and my brothers were having a fight in the livingroom and they woke him up from the pean of praise he was playing. And he came in up out of the there into the here in a just a sputtering whilrly wind of, nuhhh,uhhh,jah tuppens,uit,uit,,,,,,,,,,,,,,and the violent bow went around madly, while the violin was held up high to hold it safe, because a violin once broken, like with a baseball bat, is never the same again, and nothing was ever said, but it was very quiet in the house for a few weeks after that, and I sort of noticed. Daddy always pours out his heart, and his ashes over classical. *** loves daddy and never notices any wrong notes except for B flat. And me. Oh, yes, me. Well, not then, what about me. I love rock and roll, put another dime in the juke box baby, I love rock and roll, put another dime and dance with me. I love rock and roll, put another dime in the juke box baby, i love rock and roll. Put another dime and dance with me. The SHIP> I have remembered the ship. Daddy went to sea once. He played the piano to get the money to cross the sea and while he was on the sea he was not playing for a little while and he met a woman who asked him to dance. And it was not in dad’s nature to dance because the church didn’t approve of it, back then, nuh uh, at all. We don’t dance. We have no rhythm. We have no one to syncopate the beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat. Got a little thirsty and I went to the fridge and got out the Perrier. It’s flat. So what. Like I give a ****. (We don’t say that here.) I do. It’s Tinkers, to Evers, TO CHANCE. Are you going to drop a dime or are you going to slide home. *** would like to know. (I can admire mom’s work forever), but moving right along down the aisel here there is beans and there is corn and there rice on the left hand side. Third star til morning. Turn right. So dad didn’t dance, but then one day, on the ship, which was the Queen Mary as it turns out, i’m pretty sure it was, there is a picture somewhere but I gave it to my hairdresser, on the Queen Mary….and dad always took a deep breath before he said it….”the UGLIEST woman on board asked me to dance with her, and, well”, he spread down his hands, well, how could I say Nuuuooooh”. I am smoking an dpeeing at the same time and I’m breathing hard and I need an ashtray and there is a plate under my peace plant and I pulled it out and underneath there is a picture of the First Hamilton Christian Reformed Church where my dad played. 1929 – 1979. 50th anniversary. Yes. I don’t go there anymore. It’s in the downtown core and I don’t drive mcuh, and I walk across the street instead. BUt my dad used to play there. And circling around with mad, whirling dervish, hurricane speed, mach 10, force 09, give it to me baby, ooh, oh, ah, give it to me baby, uh uh, uh uh, and I’ve always been grateful to dad for playing for me because he at least taught me the notes in my head. Up is up. Down is down. Dimuendo is dimuendo and crescendo is crescendo and don’t you hit the b flat and nor the bells, because the bells come on when a baby dies, don’t you polay the bells y9ou ******* white boy.(Some needs a nap). (Hush little baby. Don’t say a word. Mama’s going to buy you a….Kami. Kami, I had a bad dream. Cann I have a cup of coffee. It wakes me up when I have a bad dream and I don’t like mango juice even if it is in the frige and I’m almost out. I may have to grind some. It was a really bad dream Kamie and I don’t think I can look at it again and I don’t think you shoulder either. But , there was a good part in it. I remember the good part. Dad said he had to dance with the ugliest woman on the ship because she was so ugly. And he said it in his matter of fact, well of course, sort of way. She was so ugly. So of course he could not say turn down an offer from the ugliest woman in the world. It would have been unforgiveably rude. (we say sorry). Not right now ***, I’m kinda busy. So daddy danced, which meant we could too. All his kids. We were allowed to dance. And other kids were allowed to dance, too, about ten years later, but it may have been sooner, they’re so quiet they hardly ever let anybody know how much FUN they’re having in there without us, and we want in. They get to do dress up. And they dressed up as what they would never want to be and the minister dressed up as a hairdresser, and the kids dressed up as doctors, and there was a scuba diver in there. Which I do not understand. Because scuba diving is fun, wonderfulicious and at the bottom of the pool you find a band-aid and a paper clip by the drain. And the world needs band-aids and paper clips, even if they are a little rusty. We can make new paper clips. We can make new babies. But, we are awastin time in the dance, which is criminal. You gots tah dance. Shake what yo *** gave yah, honey. Dip, plunge, twirl, step, one, two, three, four, I love rock and roll, put another dime in the juke box baby. I love rock and roll. Put another dime and dance with me. I KNOW. Men can’t dance. But I can. Oh, oh, oh, nother store before the coffee is ready. I was walking down Greens Road, with a girl who came from the States, and we wuz eating something cold like popsickles, and she said, “Well all of North America is really American.” And I looked over at her and thought, just, Ewww. Or something like that. And I was kind of young. There were barefeet involved here. And I thought after that, that we really are North American, but she was forgetting the North part and emphasizing the American part which is rude at parties, and pushing oneself forwards (and we don’t do that here). We do that in the parking lot. Well, honestly, i’ve only seen a fight twice in my life, and once was at a hockey game which should not count, but I was right up against the glass and I could see the sweat flying and the spit coming out of the mouth backlit against the rockets red glare. It was exciting. But one of my friends who had been hit in the mouth and was bleeding and it was dripping on the floor said, “Do you want to see a fight? Do you? Do you? Is that what you want?” Well, I wasn’t all that good at channelling excitement in those days and well, while it was right in front of me, I did. But my friends cool counsel prevailed. Fights do break out. They are not actively planned, and or engaged ijn. HNot here. (Honey. One of the keys is sticking). Oh, and the other fight I was in there was a bunch of girls in a circle and they pushed me in the center of it and a skinny girl with freckles who was shaking just a little bit came up at me and I could see the other girls had put her up to it but she looked scared. And inside the circle the girls said, Fight, FIght, FIght. You don’t start the slow clap yourself you moron. It comes from OLNHEOIJFOEWJI how do you spell won. So the girl knocked my books out of my hands into the snow and I bent over and picked up my books and pushed my way out of the circle and walked home. And I felt sorry for the other girl, because the other girls made her do it. I hope they told her sorry. Coffee is klaar. Phew. I wanted to tell Rick to be nicer to Stephen. (Be polite dear. He’s important.) Mah. He’s a neuf. (We’re all neuf’s under the skin dear.) Yeah, right. My neuf’s bigger than your neuf. (Right now young lady). Young? Uh huh. I’m her baby. Yes, well, Rick SIR, um, Stephens got a lot of **** people up his ***. Be nicer to him. And the “lumpy” thing? (Honey, I’m lumpy. Do something. My bottom lip is trembling and I do that so well.) Well no. I don’t want him beat up. He makes me laugh. But I would like to know if he can say, “Lord tundering Jayzus.” I think I heard it once before and it makes me giggle. And I would like to know the origin of the phrase, “Leave ‘er lay where Jayzus flung ‘er.” And remind me when the show is. I wouldn’t want to miss it. Ever.
    P.S. No, I don’t want a ring. And I’m out of coffee and I will get it myself. (Where have all the decent minions gone.)
    P.P.S. I put two butts in the peace plant and there is one butt smouldering on the church plate. Sucks to be it.
    P.P.P.S. _

  33. Unbelievers:

    We are gathered here together in the site of the *** to raise our hands and sing, “Haaaaaalelujaaaaaaaaaaaah”. (Thank *** that’s over with, now let’s get comfy. Did you see her hair.)

    No rustling in the front rows please. Attention. Attention.

    Today, we want to thank Annie for her kind words. You are the gasoline in my engine honey. Not leaded. And a four cyclinder. And you’d better car pool because if you go by yourself, people will think you don’t have any friends, and you don’t want people to think that do you? (I don’t care what people think.) Yes you do. (no I don’t). I bet you do. I bed I don’t. O*HA)WE Was that a Freudian slip? What does it mean. What does it mean. Oh *** what does it mean? (Not now honey, ***’s having a crisis). Oh. So I figure it out for myself? (Yes dear, now shhhh.)

    People. People. People. Who are these people?

    They’re the invisible people I talk to in my head, that’s who. Oh come on. You do it do. What will they think. How do I look. What should I wear so other people will think that I’m just like them. (oh that was a wicked spacebar hit). You are not like them. They are not like you. You are only who you are. And you have formed up in these clubs again and you’re getting to be a little bit “malicious”. Wallowing in it. Delighting in the digging in of the knife. See the twist on your opponents face as the muscle between their nostrils and chin twists down in involuntary submission. (Yes.)

    We remind me of ants. I had some, a few years back (obligatory sermonette, yawn NOW). Ants that covered the side of my house. Flying ants that covered the side of my aggressively blue house, well actually it was more of a dusty, Navaho blue to be exact and I know it was Navaho blue because I liked that color and I didn’t want it to change. I like blue. But there are shades, darlin. And mine is blue-green with an impression of pink. So what, did I do with my ants, do you think? Well I got out the shop vac like any sensible person would do, and I sucked those babies up. (do you have any green in you)? My nephew does. He is four and when he closes his eyes, (you already told that story dear). Never mind. Which reminds me of Gatorade. Yeah. Right. Go, you green. Yes, I have it in me. I knew there was something cool about you. (TM dear. TM) But ***? Gatorade TM. Where were we. Ants. So I sucked them into the vacuum cleaner (and i have to go to mom’s house soon), and I left them alone. *** knows I didn’t know what else to do with them. I just, sort of, left them, in a vacuum. *** told me to say sorry. I’m sorry about the ants. I should have taken them out of the vacuum and put them into the forest and let them mulch down into dirt, but I didn’t. I forgot about them. *** didn’t. So after I dripped water on the insect, there came to me a flying ant. It landed on my right shoulder (is this after or before the catalpa tree bees?) and it kind of wandered down my chest, and I was talking to someone and I didn’t know if I should talk to them or to the ant. The ant kind of won out by default. The ant made more sense. Plus, it was making its way down my cleavage, and that’s always interesting. You never know how many fingers and ants got until you count. I’m a little focused right now. I have to go to mom’s. I have to get coffee. I have to save the world and I haven’t even had breakfast. I think I’ll leave that part up to ***. (I do it because i love you honey) Fine. There is a butt smoldering on my church plate and I know what that’s for. I know. I know. I know what Jesus (don’t use that name), buy, mom, (don’t use that name), but mom, (don’t use that name). Jesus died for our sins and rose (petals) again, and ascended into heaven (where?). He had a marvellous press agent and money has been made off the stripes of his back for the last 300 years and I am sick, of it. (GO TO YOUR ROOM).

    FINJE. Just. JUst. Just. But it’s what I think mom….It’s what I think. (don’t cry dear. mommy loves you.) So that’s why I have to go see my mom. Standing on the shoulders of my friends only gets me so far. Sometimes you have to jump for the window, catch the ledge and break the glass. There may be some blood. (take you hankie dear). I just had some OJ and it is from the oasis. I think I’ll put my camels to bed. The fire is out at the church. Let’s take it to the parking lot. But I have to go see my mom first cause I know what she’s going to say. I’m going to tell her that I’m riting and she’s going to say, “That’s nice dear.” (No it’s not. Yes it is. No it’s not. Yes it is.” ) There is a song that goes like that and I want it in her. It may be from Figaro.

    Did I say that? I sure as me didn’t mean to. Belly rolling, blood surging, cin tilted up to heaven and there is no heaven up there. There is plaster up there. Down here there is….wait for it…..drum rolll…..almost…there…JUST US.

    P.P.P.P.S. Are you coming?
    P.P.S. Cue the choir. No I don’t have a prayer yet. Aren’t you working on the second verse of the poem? I think that’s it.
    P.S. I know what ***** wrote in the sand and then wiped out. But I can keep a secret. In the tic, tack, toe, it was an 0. And he left it there for me. Pee break. Bye.

    And the two butts in the church plate are being moved to the peace plant. *** knows how to put out a fire.

  34. Hi guys. Back from moms. Had to go to the drug store and refill my prescription and then to the grocery store for kahwa and paper filters and cheese slices (on sale) and York Peppermint Patties sooooo good. Um…guys? Could you do a little edit on the last one for me? I talked to mom and she said that it should be we? K? Flip the double U upside down and make it wee.

    Kami. i don’t like the wink hon. I want an eyelash coming down. Could you do that for me shugar? Pretty please?

    Now what did I do at mama’s, let me think. Um. Well, first off, we went looking for the rice because we were going to make a mean rice curry, but when we got there the cupboard was bear and so we had eggs instead. With toast. Nicely browwwwwned. And then mama washed my hair with this stupid stuff that said it was cleanser but which I finally figured out was shampoo, and then I washed mama’s hair and then we dried our hair and then we went to bed…and I rubbed mama’s back a bit, and then I got up and went for a smoke. And then I came back and lay on mama’s other side and she rubbed my back. (no she didn’t. okay. i forget sometimes) And then mama gave me a peppermint (so good for the breath dear), and I took it. (Note to self. Don’t do peppermints anymore.) And then mama had a nap and I went outside and took off my shirt and my pants and my undies and stretched out my arms towards heaven in a ritual Dukeboor “standing naked before evil” kind of way. It was dull, but, somebody had to do it. Then I put my pink panties on backwards and put my pants on again and my shirt and then my pink shirt (alright, it’s more like purple but, say, o where do you people get these colors from?)

    lost my train of thought. hmm. okay. then went up the stairs and had a smoke. (most likely) (Mama’s napping see). went down the stairs again (plastic laminate, grey) stains when chips get on it. Went back down and stood on the grass in my bare feet, cause I likes bare feet and I swayed back and forth and back and forth and then the lights came on because my sister’s person has those automatic timers that set the lights to come on at some time or other? K. So, I’m swaying back and forth and raising my arms to heaven, and I think I still had a smoke in one hand, in fact, i’m sure of it, and I noticed that there were 4 shadows of me. Which was kind of odd and I asked my nephew about it later and he said “different lights Ant Wendy.” I didn’t know different lights could shadow four ways. But then I asted, him, i siad, one of the shadows of me flicked out?” And he said, “maybe one of the lights turned off”. Hi Michael Heilemann, down there in the bottom of the screen. I’m Wendy Spoelstra. Thank you for designing WordPress MU for me. Uh. We. We. It is definitely we guys. Could you make that an automatic change cause sometimes I slip and often I tumble, bu t I do not like to fall. (my fingers go funny when I type like that, i do not know why).

    Okay. Shadows, shadows, shadows, this hunt and peck is a pain in the ***. Going down the stairs. It goes before the rice, but there was corn at the bottom of the stairs and I finally figured out why. Wendy likes corn.

    Im drinking iced tea and water now. And the fire is going out. And the last butt is in the peace plant. Glad that’s over. (Kami, that puzzle you gave me? 2.rs’=1me. Now tell me where the sailboat is in my shell collection? Is it under the white shell, the white and black shell or the rock from oman?

    Earth beneath my feet darlin. Wind in my sails 2u2.

    so, i was out on the lawn, kind a rockin back and forht, and thinkin of my black brusters who leaped over the fire (there is a fridge magnet at my mama’s house and I just so love it and i want one too), and so i figured one of us tidy whitey people ought to be able to go there. (fingers doing the funny think agin). So I rocked and held up my arms and there was a flaming torch (no darling. it was a cigarette. picky mama, picky.) and I rocked, and, nothing was going on down there so I list3ened and I heard the bagpipes. And I wondered who in sam hill was playing bagpipes at this time of night? But I not my business. Not my problem. And then I heard the tattoo. Yever hear a good tatooe. Yah ever get a good tattoo? I believe my brother told me tha t I swhouold be tattooeed. (mama, i is starting my own orchestera with bagpipes. Thats’ fine sweetheart). Okay. But the drums went away which was too bad cuz the guy had a good, strong hanhd. Distant. But stirring. Then I went and had a drink of water. And then I had coke. And then I had a beer. And then I burped. A few times. And oh me oh my, did I have a stomach ache. Reminds me of that there Patmos Ezekial kind of feller, who swallowed the something or other. And speaking of swallowing, before that my niece came over with her husband. They’re from Alabama? No that’s not right. Kentucky? No that’s my sister’s sister-in-law. Memphis. They’re from Memphis. Where you know who lived. (we are not channeling him tonight, but , hey, life is full of surprises.)(

    Okay. They came before the dance thing, so could you back me up guys? Niece and Roy came and we had a chat. Roy said he’s been shot four times and stabbed twice?

    (Okay. Whose the joker who has the shitty religious music on? Cut the crap. I hate that shit. Do you know how many years I had to listen to holey, holey, holey. It’s you guys doing it. You know it is. You’re starting to beliee in we and you are sooooooo pissing me off. You should hear the music. It’s like christmasy – KIAMI? I am so whipping your ass with my camel prod.) (If anybody starts with the classical, I am going out the window. (No you silly. That was LAST year. This is now.) Mama has just nudged my shoulder and given me the look. It’s okay mama. I know. I’ll go get the soap and make bubbles.

    Back to Roy. He had on a T-shirt from the trail of tears? And I saw the eyes of the indian. and he looked pretty good. and there was a chopper on there that looked amazing.

    Hmm. Roy. Sue. Indian eyes. Oh. Best part ever. You’re never going to believe it. Which works for me.

    Roy and I had a cigarette and a pipe, and Sue and grammy had a tea. And then we hugged. And then Roy and Sue went back to my sister-in-laws and then I got back on the grass and I raised my arms to heaven (that would be the sky, not the actual heaven, heaven here, whatever, and Kami, I did not babble, nor did i buble. So cut it out. (Mention the part where you blew the cow bone horn down in the basement. Shush mamma. It was dusty. They don’t have to know that my sister’s basement is dusty.) Forget about the cow bone.

    Okay. Raising arms to sky, fingers wiggling, hips shaking, (cuz hips don’t lie SHaki88ra, ugogirl.) And then I brought my arms down and brought them behind my back, and we closed the circle. We’re all in. Thought you should know.

    And then I went and did the dishes. (probably not you liar. ha. says you. me too.) I definitely did the dishes at some point. Spit, cups, dishes, dried em up in the pan, we can bring home the bacon. Cook it up in the pan. La da di dah.

    P.S. Kami. Can I get a day job? My gut still hurts from all that beer and water and coke.
    P.S.S. Kami. Who put the “f” in ear?
    P.S.S.S. If anyone says “powerful voice out of the north”, there will be consequences.
    P.S.S.S. Anything you like but dammit, get rid of the christmas shit. yeah. like, he and we are tight? but, he’s so….yesterday. thanks bro. love you too.
    (Mama’s going to **** you.)
    (Mama already knows. We’re just not…chatty about that sort of thing.)
    (You put your name on it.)
    (That’s what we do when we are we…Kami. Piano wire? Ick.

  35. la di dah, such a day as i have had we would not believe. keep it up we. we’re doing great.

    So last night, after my brothers music played on and on and on, i heard phil collins, (YES), singing, sing out. And I take direction well, so I went on the balcony and I sang Oh oh oh you you you tee tee tee me mee me. And then I ran it up and down the registers a bit to see if the pipes still worked and between you and me they’re a little raspy and i sound like a guy but shit, have you loo(mamma, i is too busy to do de stars right now) (Give it to momma later baby, we will fix it. it will be homework K?) (K momma.) Sanks momma. Then I went and pointed NSWE, does anyone know where those places really R? And I stuck my hands out and sang, “Dona, nobis pacem, pacem, dona nobis pacem”. Then I did it again. And then I did it again. (Song guy. Figure it out).

    Michael down there, 905-695-1087. I am the bom. U R 2 Cute. Um. Nobody call michael yeah? I pulled the numbers out of a card, and a quote and an e-mail i got from the place i might posibly not be working for ever again. But we don’t have secrets. Cuz secrets hurt people.

    Okay. Back to Dona, nobis, pacem, pacem, dona nobis, pacem. It R latin. I like latin. Hic sunt draconis. alternatively we have cogito ergo sum. unfortunately, we can get cute all we like with latin but nobody wants to play with us because all the latin people pretty are pretty much, elsewhere.

    (Michael, you is stealing my heart from Kami and you two timing, not, well, i, now i is all confused and, what do I tell – oh – Kami can play tooo? Michael….hone…you just playing my keyboard……lick. Shugar i am working here, and getg you r hanad ooooffff fuf we. ) Don’t do that again. We have work to do here. (but it was fun. (Yes it was) (Don’t tell anybody) No. It must remain a secret forever because loose lips, loovve.)

    Michael is going for the record. We will ignore him.

    Latin. Yes. Nobody much speaks that anymore. ANd to my ********brethren and sistren our there have u noticed that the ********** seem to be doing nothing but putting in pictures of ******* touching ******. Huh. I haven’t seen a ****** touch ******* in all my born days. Not. Same picture. Different day. ******** just don’t have a new story. We do. We think they are sick of their old story. We can play together. Plus, when I was at mama’s the other day? Mama made me sit on the deck while mama sat in the sunroom and the screen door was closed between us. We were together, but we were separate. We did not touch. And you can bet your bottom dollar that when we touch (cue the music guy), ain’t nothing gonna get between us sugar (MICHAEL. Stop it.) (5 minute break guys. Something personal.)

    to the touch and feel guys down at the local house of sewing up owwies and patting down boobooes, we would like to mention that this is a fascinating opportunity to observe the psychosis in evolution. (BAD WORD ME.) Excuse me? ME DO NOT LIKE PSYCHOSIS. (Well, what can we put in it’s place?) Me like amazed. Amazed it is sugar. Thanks hon. Had to pee. Did NOT wash my hands. Getting sticky. And for the rest of our compatriots down at the home of amazing grace, where we occasionally check in to evolve a tentacle or two, let us assure you that the tobacco will be on the menu, there will be chocolate and fudge for all, and if you need to shout out to anyone while you’re going through the change (bad label guys, fix it.), then your cuddly bunny hold 8 will be of the fluffiest fleece. Me no like leather straps.

    and no there are no grudges, ill will, non of that harbored, no no no no no. it’s okay. and if we feel the need, we can say sorry. but it’s you just id.

    me said id? humph. didn’t want to. id, ego, superego, labels, labels, calling names. trying to control what we don’t understand. we are me and we are three plus three plus i, which, by the way, would make a fascinating study about the three faces of Eve but it’s already been done and i didn’t like the movie. plus, guys – did anybody see anybody hugging in that movie. screach, screen, cries, tears, lack of empathy lots.

    we f ear what we do not understand. we step back and run away. we put up walls to protect ourselves from experience. go to your cubicle right now. take those plastic things out of your ears. hear. what. there. is to hear. not much huch? white noise. i like black noise. i like the boys down in Delaware, pants half off their ass, with a boom box playing and – you know what I heard the other day. i heard that when you need help from a brother, he’s the first one there. give u all he got. and then some.

    back to tidy widy we’s. (momma i see sorry. what other language can we use to describe f ear.) (imprisoned?) Got it.

    Some of us, my angel nephew included, are afraid that the chipmunk will bite. Me can’t take away my nephews fear, but me can give my nephew a new story. Me told him that my nephew would make a good cowboy. My nephew already has an army suit. But a cowboy suit is much more fun (No bullets honey.) Yes mama. (He can have a bow and arrow) (Yes mama. But then he’d been an indian (feathers) mama. No honey. He’d be Jordan. And what will we cook for supper mama? Chicken, honey and chile. And a little corn bread. and some watermelon for desert. Watermelon pie, watermelon pie, if i don’t get some i think i’m going to talk aabout the ramifications of Do people reall eat those?

    And now I am going to speak to my children the ****, who started all this. Yes, you got the good news and yes, you kept the secret scrolls of the *****, and yes you did a good job, and mmmhmm, me are proud of you. well. sorta. well. i was. a while back. before the ….you know. but we like the hats. I said we like the hats. When me pay you a compliment we say thank you. Got It. u did not **** anybody. andybody ****** u. and u never forgot. and there is no one to say sorry to. you may say sorry to me. me read your book when i was 8. your book hurt me. you say sorry to who you have to, and you hold your hate like a black rock in the river of live and you stand on it while the water rushes by and you want to get off of the rock and jump in the river of life. Now would be a good time. Jump in. weather’s fine. water’s wet. we love you. my brother says he left the circle in the sand (cue music) for me. What do the ancient, secret, scrolls say>? A man from your house took a glass of wine from a woman of your house (after he asked her permission) and he gave it to me and he said that we drink to life. And we did. It was fun. Let’s do it again, cause all i can get at the ********* house is juice and i’m not a fan. Oh yea. Somewhere in the ***** it says that *** walked around the camp and saw that people had been ******** outside? And *** said, get a shovel and bury that, it’s **********. Me think so to.

    And speaking of disgusting, the ***** says that *********** are **********. Which means the root words of disgusting need to be looked into very carefully. Me no have greek. Oh forget the book. They all have words and they all mean the same thing. My label. Your label. Our label.

    We are we.

    (Baby, don’t you think you should take a nap.) Nope mamma. Me is growing up. Me is at least ten fingers. and a quarter of PC Cola full of ashes. (Just a little while longer baby) K mamma.)

    Me has had so many labels, that me has been able to duck behind every one of them and be whatever anyone else was looking for. It is a sophisticated little came, but it is essentially, duck, duck, goose.

    It is a very fun game. A bit tiring. I think I’ll go to bed. The nap sounds good.

    I’m almost positive I’ll see you in the morning.
    P.S. Michael. I still have a thing for Kami. Is a menage a trois OK?
    P.P.S. I have no geese in my apartment. Why is that?
    P.P.P.S. Voodoo. Had to get it from voodoo. altar, alcohol, sage, peace, card, pen, dice, shells, domino. Haitians got it going on. Do Dah, eday.

    Song: Get mea musical director.

    Almost drank the ashes in the P.C. cola. Ick.

  36. Mama? Mama? (Yes Me.) Mama, I know the part for my piano recital. Are you going to come listen to it? Mama’s upstairs honey. You play. I’ll hear. K?)

    Ahem. I just tried to light a cigarette and the match would not flame. So I threw the match book into the garbage. I kept the match, just in case it changes it’s mind. We do not throw out good matches here. Then I took a new pack of matches out of the freezer and I am lighting my cigarette…so. It always discomfits me when there is no one to light it for me. This used to be good manners, no?

    Be that as it may, this is for those of us who are so deep into our heads that we cannot find the way out, and I’ll try to be as dense and obtuse (Sorry, mama,), I will try to be as metaphorical and allegorical as I possibly can so we can read as many different stories into the story as is possible.

    this is a backward reworking of slef. close as I can figure anyway. and when we start it, we are often in the dark zone and away from family and the sense of urgency is there and we flee. we flee to what we think is the answer, we run to a person, a car, a job, a home. we think we will find it there. when we are very dark, we feel that we are ashes and we see only pain and disease. Been there. Done that. Threw the t-shirt out. coming to the light is just as strange but not so urgent. we turned our dance of becoming into yoga, dancing, going to the one who made you, sharing a meal, touching a finger, eating in community, listening to the sounds, and by the way, alcohol is very useful, as is wheeeed, and i have not tried the others so i don’t KNOW, but i talked to a girl who gave oiut illegal (No swearing) who gave out herbs and stuff to help ease the pain and i asked why people took (no swearing) and she said it was to help them stop thinking because the thoughts hurt so much. i know the feeling. this side of the transforming is amazing. me can tick tack toe into time by looking at the click clock, but me knows it is not me time. it is we time. inside we time, when we look for answers, that matter, we get them, we think. except for the origins of the phrase “Leave ‘er lay where Jaysus flung ‘er”, which is starting to annoy.

    SO. Somebody is going to want to right a book about living in the now. Oh. It’s been done? Goood.

    This is living in the now. I feel the air from the fan above me blowing. There is stuff around me. The rice is here. Vincent’s starry night is in front of me, and my baby’s calendar is beside me. Once in a while, I look at it. It says, “Since you’re gross, shouldn’t you be smart? It is her Happy Bunny calendar that she liked and those are not her words. Those are someone else’s words. But my baby knows how to use words to push people away. But I will change the words on her calendar that I bought and I will change them to “Since you’re g, shouldn’t you be smart?” These things do not necessarily follow.

    (Where are my angels when I need them>

    A note to the writers of the church of we. we use true words. we hate old words. we want new words. or we will do nothing except say we are sorry. (banging fingers, banging fingers. daddy must be in the house).

    we think we have played shoot em up for too long. the new game is dig and sow, delve and span, and peek a boo. we love u.
    P.S.S. Kami. Was that a bit dry??????? for u?
    P.S.S.S. Michael? The black paint I used to cover the ross in gross is nowdripping down the calendar and the 7 is gone and it’s headed for 14. Do you want to cover 14? Or shall we let ‘er lie? Me want tinkers to evers to chance.
    P.S.S.S.S. Dance time.
    P.S>moment. 14 is covered. heading for 21. what are the ods. I think it’s stopped. me too. what about u? who? Oh. And it’s not witches you mindrods. It’s which do you choose?

  37. Jo. Jo. Jo. Finally we have found you. We will neve4r let you go. (Kami. Over. Just so over.) (Well, maybe later). Michael, you’re still in on the nod.) Can anyone spell fickle?

    The problem with achieving nirvana, or being blissed out, or finding your self out of time (how interesting), is that you see pieces of yourself in the eyes of everyone you see. (Mom. He looked at me.) (That’s okay dear. You look right back.) So I have been playing tic tac toe with the eyes we see and guys, my head goes down, and my tongue is playing with my lower lip in a very suggestive fashion. Some of you have tentacles, some of you have ear lobes, and there is a toe or two that blows my mind. And our heart just keeps filling up.

    Must make coffee now. Coffee is brewing. Just thinking. Um guys? Just so you know, at no point do radon beams come thurling out of our eyes. Not going to happen. Not in this lifetime. There may be a picture or two called into view, like the blue with impressions of pink, with green at the bottom which is now gone, but if any person tries to turn that into a metaphor, we will be sorry. But ixnay on the adonfay? Clear? Good.

    Wanted to talk to the system. (excuse me.) wanted to talk to the system. (excuse me.) wanted to talk to the system. (excuse me.) system error.

    thought so. so we’ll talk to each other instead. in the search for system bigger, faster, stronger, harder, we all have needs…we have outdistanced our mommas. My momma can’t watch T.V. anymore because she can’t work the remotes (her hands are soft and gentle), and she cannot see the screen, (which is just as well thank ***) But even for Jeopardy, it can’t be done. So we sit and talk, and while we would like a show once in a while, for fun, it’s not much fun and me thinks the minds making the shoes are sad, and angry and not happy, and me cares about that. so. but Buffy the Vampire slayer remains, in my mind, as the best series ever so there. House comes second, but his minions should be more afraid of him, cause they really are. Rick Mercer comes third. (Ha. Ha. Ha.) Get me my quote please? it’s horrible to bring things into the house just for yourself. It’s selfish. And as far as computers are concerned, moma thinks they are tools of – well – mine, when we come to think of it. live spelled backwards dontcha know. Mama is very old school and I straddle the chasm, riding a saddle prepared for me by a very dear friend of mine whom is not here right now.

    So anyone. Some of the toys are gonig to be taken away dear. Mmhmm. No. We did not use them properly. We did not think of our momma. And we used them to trick our mommas into buying things they did not need. kind of like encyclopedia salesmen’s but with fine print. What’s that you say? Someone’s going to take them away? No sweetheart. No one is going to take anything away from our sweet child. We are going to look at our things ourselves and we are going to see what we need and what we want. The want things go away. The need things stay. (No not everything, angel, run to the forest and hide.) This is not purging (don’t do that honey. it’s not good for you). This is choosing.

    Why just the other day, I was at my sister’s house and the phone rang and it was someone for my nephew and I went downstairs to call him and he said, “Didn’t you bring the phone?” And I said, “The phone is upstairs” and he said, “Didn’t you bring the portable”, and I said, “No, I came to give you the message”, or something along those lines. And truly, he looked a little annoyed that he had to go upstairs and go to the landline, and truly, I don’t believe I heard a thank you in there.

    That was rather a boring paragraph to get my heart beating like a drum, but there it is. Bum, bum. bum bum. bum bum. Bliss, bliss, bliss. deep breath.

    Our babies are babbling at the sky with their hands to their ears, and we would like our babies to be looking in our eyes when they tell us thank you momma.

    Tell you the truth, we don’t understand half the things the babies are saying anymore because it’s mostly babble. Tower of. Babel. On. And we hate to take toys from our babies, but there comes a time to choose. Do we want to look into their sweet eyes, or do we want to hear them saying, “Yeah. Right. Uhuh. Later. Not. Tell Jordan.” And our babies conversational skills are lacking to. Not mention manners. But we are their moms and we can teach cause we love ours.

    My, we are in a preachy teachy mood today aren’t we? Time someone said it. We thought you guys knew or we would have said it before. But we didn’t know. We are sorry. We will do better.

    To bring the mood up, we would like you to know that the cigarettes in our cigarette bag are falling down at our chest. There are 25 down and 1 is falling. We think we will smoke it.

    P.S. We stole babbling at the sky from RA. Good pharse. Licked it. Stole it. Sorry.
    P.P.P.S. Kami, nothing personal, but we haven’t connected lately darlin, and a we had needs.
    P.P.P.P.S. Micahel. Bum. Bum. Bum. (remove the B)
    S.P. We cancelled the cable hon. Hope you’re on board with that.

  38. Honey. I just had this sudden……urge…..2 stand by my window and SING.
    And this darlin neuf, said, eneuf, is eneuf. So I sang O, um, something, our home and and something something. true pat riot luv, in in in in alllllllher personss commmmmmand. With….anyway. U get the picture. So I sang at my window and sung, and now that that’s over with, what do you want the jelly for? Honey, honey, honey. I got plenty uh cream. Lots. 18%. Fat, fat, fat unfree. Hurry home baby. Missums. ooxx WE
    P.S. Rick called me fat honey. Tell him its VOLUPTOUS or I WILL. K baby? Y baby? Cuz u like it. kiss kiss.

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