Are you there God? It’s me

March 6, 2016



I’m totally not going to do that.

I couldn’t sleep at night, and my soul was wondering why.

I’m sleeping fine, if you can call coming home exhausted/tipsy/smashed and passing/blacking the fuck out as fine… it kinda counts as sleep.

It’s the other thing that my bed is good for, the not sleeping is eluding me.

And my soul is wondering why.

If I were you I would say yes, speak lord, speak to me.

I was so blind, I was so lost, until you spoke to me.

Speak my lord, speak to me.

Cry all night long, something has gone wrong.

Well maybe god is trying to tell you something.

Seriously, speak lord. Tell me something good.

Before the Giant left I mentioned having a date with 88.
Giant said, “If it doesn’t go well, give me a shout and we can grab a coffee.”

That night I messaged playfully, painfully, honestly “I am the only girl on the planet who is hoping her date with a pro-athlete goes badly so she can have coffee with a mortician who has a girlfriend.”

He said he wanted the same thing. Asked how respectable it was to wish for me to be home alone and sad, hoping that he didn’t have a girlfriend for long.

I replied ‘about as respectful as me wishing that it ends quickly and painlessly with her.’

To be clear, he dumped me a week prior to said conversation.
And we kept talking like that for almost another week after that week.

I had to stop it.

I used Leap Day and a loophole so I could talk to him one more time. It wasn’t a real day, it didn’t count. The next day was a real day with a real date with a real boy. Except …

88 bailed. He was sick.

We rescheduled for the following Wednesday.

In a post that has yet to be posted I mentioned that I was supposed to see 88 on the eclipse/new moon. Wrote the words ‘somebody oughta stop this, doesn’t feel right. I will be by the tower wearing a red dress.’

Simultaneously I got a text saying 88 got asked to be in a commercial that day.

The post is called Instant Karma. My morning coffee takes longer than that.


Why do I feel like I dodged a bullet?

Because it’s a supermegaallpowerfulozyouhadthepowerallalongmydear wishing day and I need to focus if I’m going to Speak (to the) lord.

I was using Young Un that night to keep from messaging the Giant after I realized I had to shut the fuck up for a bit. I had to go quiet and dark. Oracle said so. I listen when she speaks. Speak to me

Then this happened.

god talking

That escalated quickly.

We have trigger words him and I. Mouth. Tongue. My attraction to him is no longer overwhelming, but it exists, somewhere tucked inside his fucking mouth. I wanted to crawl in there and feel safe and wanted for a little while, not build a summer home or anything, just claim sanctuary temporarily.

He is comfort food. Am I supposed to fast to talk to God?

I wrote Empath Sex, said he was coming to our own version of steak and blowjob day 11 days early.
And if I am being honest, and I am because I always am, it felt like a lie when I typed it.

Lo and behold.

He cancelled too, and I felt…relieved? I didn’t even really get ready, I was too busy writing to go get the stuff for tacos, or even shower. I was pushing preparation to the eleventh hour. Still in my I-gave-up-on-life/it’s-okay-I’m-a-writer grey sweatpants, no make-up.

Hot Neighbor has been over twice since the Giant left. He let me put my head on his chest, held me and kissed my cheek. But it just stopped there. He asked me if I was going to be alright and I answered ‘I don’t know’.

There was a scene in Studio 60 when everything was falling apart. I have found solace in hospital chapels as did they.

Harriet: …the one thing that isn’t handed to you on a silver platter is humility.
Danny: If he’s real
Harriet: He is
Danny: And he loves me
Harriet: He does
Danny: Then why doesn’t he just fix it?
Harriet: I don’t know.

The ‘I don’t know’ is going around.

I know a little.


I have to talk to God. Maybe walk into the woods like Mother Abigail in The Stand. Her sin was pride, not acknowledging that it was God that drove the wolves from her path and kept her safe.

Oh God.


Rob Breszny is my messiah. He says this… GEMINI (May 21-June 20):

“Some night soon, I predict you’ll dream of being an enlightened sovereign who presides over an ecologically sustainable paradise. You’re a visionary leader who is committed to peace and high culture, so you’ve never gone to war. You share your wealth with the people in your kingdom. You revere scientists and shamans alike, providing them with what they need to do their good work for the enhancement of the realm. Have fun imagining further details of this dream, Gemini, or else make up your own. Now is an excellent time to visualize a fairy tale version of yourself at the height of your powers, living your dreams and sharing your gifts.”

The psychic in Cassadaga saw me this way, almost verbatim actually. Ruling a kingdom, legions of knights all looking up at me, she saw one coming forward. I know what face I want to see when his helmet comes off. Lord hear our prayer.

The eclipse + the new moon + instant karma = “Some night soon”.

Wednesday it is.

At work, no 88, just home alone weaving dreams. Sending my echo out.

I have to sleep, and I have to get on my knees and accept my very real, universe imposed, random acts of god keeping me from getting laid.

Just like with everything I think/feel/write it feels right or wrong. Like a lie or the truth, this is truth.

So it is written.

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22):

“There isn’t enough of anything as long as we live,” wrote Raymond Carver. “But at intervals a sweetness appears and, given a chance, prevails.” According to my analysis of the astrological omens, Virgo, you’ll soon be gliding through one of these intervals. Now and then you may even experience the strange sensation of being completely satisfied with the quality and amount of sweetness that arrives. To ensure optimal results, be as free from greed as you can possibly be.

I love you lord.


All italics are lyrics from Maybe God is Trying to tell you Something
Written by Quincey Jones for The Color Purple

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