April 2015

It should be abundantly clear by now that I don’t attend church.

I make my own days of worship and ritual.

Wednesdays. Mercurial, as am I. Perfectly quick-silvery day to celebrate, communicate and commune with my tricksy Gods of yore. Have my voice heard and rejoice. Lord hear our prayer. “Edie gave me this telephone, she says I can talk to God.” (Crispin Glover, The Doors)

Thursdays, I still reverently sit and listen to the sermons of Rob Brezny’ Freewill Astrology delivered as horoscopes.
Interpret the words of God, bend them to my will.

Fridays, ruled by Venus. 17 years ago I lived with my 2 weird sisters (the maiden and the crone). We dubbed Friday *Love Day*. If you could call ‘bumping into’ that boy, peeling him off the bar, pouring him into a cab then bumping into him, less dressed, in his twin bed “lucky” or “love”. T’was neither.

That was a million years ago.

Not ready to wander back there. But here we go…

Two days ago I played pinball with the Archangel Gabriel.

Luke 1:26-30 And the angel Gabriel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.
And when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and cast in her mind what manner of salutation this should be.
And the angel said unto her, “Fear not for thou hast found favour with God.”

I feared anyways, I was a scared little thing back then.

Years later I saw the movie ‘Legion’, and realized who he was. They even look alike.
The ecstasy of perfect recognition (Stephen King)

I was a known squanderer of blessing and messages. I left him and hurt him, this angel. Traded him in for a foot in the ass at 4 am, scrounging for my clothes in the dark, one-handed as I had a fist jammed in my mouth to keep from crying until I reached the door. That 4 block walk home, tranny hookers clucking their tongues in pity…every Friday for a year. Save a few when I was saved, but I always found my way back to hell. I had a map and a death wish.

I turned my back on Jesus for him too.
We’re just gonna go ahead and call that a low point.
Not the lowest I have ever been, but fucking loooooow.

We’ve come a long way baby. Amen.

By making Sunday the global day of (y)Our Lord. What we are really doing is worshipping the Sun. Paying homage at the very least.

I’m a Sun Eater (among other things) its part of a nutritious breakfast, a source of 7 essential vitamins and minerals. My Nana pointed out years ago, the more side dishes pictured in the commercial, the less healthy the cereal was. Metaphor.

I watched “The Road” (Cormac McCarthy). That is my definition of hell, I have never been so horrified by anything as I was by the idea of a world without light.

“It didn’t matter when <you> left, it was only as if the sun had gone out of the world.” Susan Carroll

Way back when, Sunday’s meant Limelight. 3^rd floor, all us children of the night dressed in our Black Sunday best, dancing to Bauhaus, Sisters of Mercy, NIN et al. Goth Mecca. It’s where I met the angel Gabriel and found temporary sanctuary.

Sunday is my favorite day again. (Silver Linings Playbook)

The rituals for this holiest of days have changed and evolved for me, but the sanctity remains.

I drink the Blood of Christ, body temperature coffee while the sun is up (and Manhattan’s when the sun goes down).

The plants get (holy) watered.

I light incense, for Buddha.

I post confession on this blog.

Change the sheets so they are clean and fresh for when I crawl home anything but.

I shower and dress in my Sunday best.

I sing choir in my car.

Sunday school, as of late has been playing pinball and discussing mythology with Gabriel.

After we part ways, I get anointed with oil in the form of a deep tissue massage.

Then off to dinner with Sunday where the body of Christ looks more like steak tartare at a place called Union.

“She tells me Worship in the bedroom.
The only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you…
“Only then I am human. Only then I am clean.”
Hozier ‘Take me to Church’

It is just like heaven.

“Tara Thornton: My mama, when she thought somethin’ was too good to be true, sh-she’d say, “Satan in a Sunday hat.” That’s exactly what this is.
Eggs: You know it took me a long time to stop looking over my shoulder, too. But there are good people in this world. Sometimes, good shit happens.” (True Blood)

When is a metaphor not a metaphor?

When I don’t know how to end this.

And lo there was a blinding light and a BIG ba-da boom.
And there appeared unto the girl an Angel of the Lord, bearing good tidings and shit. In a great booming voice he spoketh unto her and this is what he said…

“Hey Dummy, whatcha readin’?”

“’Salem’s Lot”, she replied, and lit another cigarette.

“Again?” he inquired.

“Yep. You gonna fold your wings and stay awhile? Want some coffee?”

“No thanks Mama, you are almost out of milk”. He folded his wings and sat on the couch. “That ‘alone’ quote has been making the rounds again I see”.

“Seriously, you Angels sit around and look at Facebook?” she marked her place and chuckled into her coffee.

Wim Wenders had it right in Wings of Desire, we watch, it’s what we do. All y’all just made it easier. Mark Zuckerberg gets preferential treatment once he makes it up here. How does it make you feel?”

“Mark Zuckerberg…I dunno, kinda go human go. Or did you mean being watched? A little creeped out, but safe I guess. Welcome to my juxtaposition, I live here.”

“No, No, the quote Dummy.” He rolled his eyes.

“Alone. Yes, that’s the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn’t hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.”― Stephen King
(sourced via https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/90835-alone-yes-that-s-the-key-word-the-most-awful-word )

“I rarely argue with the King. But honestly…I don’t agree.
I’ve been to hell and I wasn’t alone. I dunno, been alone for over a year now, for all intents and purposes. S’okay I guess, except for the times I feel trapped and abandoned. That’s my hell, ‘trapped’. Abandoned isn’t great either but I am pretty sure if someone walks it’s not my fault. Alone is okay, I got this.”

And the Angel of the Lord cleared his throat (which sounded like a symphony by the way)

“To quote George Bluth ‘you’re just a turd out there.*’ We can’t watch this anymore, you are fucking flailing. You survived, you made your point, now stop being so fucking stubborn. You are not now, nor were you ever meant to be a cat lady. Look at you for fuck sake’s. When was the last time you had a meal that wasn’t cake or a sandwich or another cup of coffee and a smoke? I bet if I go look in the dryer it’s full of sweatpants, and not the cute ones neither. You are on this shitty loop, looking like Ada Monroe in Cold Mountain, crying in bed, hands stained with ink, waiting…if Ada Monroe had jogging pants.”

She rolled her eyes in grand frustration tinged with embarrassment. “So it’s back to settling then is it? Got another meat puppet lined up to suck the life outta me with his lack of imagination and bland sex, did that, never going back again. I want magic.”

The eye rolling competition heated up, “What is it with you? Why does your pendulum only swing to the extremes? Look, I brought you something. You will just know it when you see it. Now, do what thou wilt, but don’t be a dummy Dummy, mmmm’kay?”

And lo, what doth appear in her inbox? A Biker Body Pillow.

For a girl who stripped as long as I did, I met like 3 and a half bikers, Ever. Everything I know about bikers I learned from Sons of Anarchy, which I took with a box of salt, since it’s fucking fiction.

One of the 3.5 messaged me a few weeks ago. Off to lunch we went, had nachos. Why is it always nachos? Nachos are my jumping off point.

So we chatted. He was having some love troubles, we hadn’t seen each other or spoken in 6 years except a random run in 10 towns away last year. And as if by some magic, the night after my heart broke, he came to check on me, and stayed the night.

No sex, just up all night talking and taking turns being the big spoon.

Operation Human Shield.
“If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?”
Snow Patrol ~ Chasing Cars

Giant Tattooed self aware bikers make the most wonderful blankets. Especially giant tattooed self aware bikers who just had their hearts stomped on too. it’s funny this feeling of being absolutely devastated and feeling lucky as fuck simultaneously, never felt this way, or anything close to it. It’s beyond strange but so am I.

I wish I could patent this shit, I really do. Every girl who ‘cannot even’ needs one of these.
6’4” tattooed and snuggly. He reminds me to eat, bathe, get out of the house, slow dances with me in the library. I feed him cookies and scrambled eggs and notice when he has been to the gym. We watch movies and talk on the phone like teenagers. He is having a hard time too, so we say the things that can’t be said, about they who will not be named. Yin and Yang. I give him girl eyes and he gives me man logic. Win fucking win.

I have never had any luck getting over someone by getting under someone else, I just get crushed again, I need to be weightless.
But having someone beside me, is a gift from God.

* from Arrested Development. I really wanted to use this quote to describe someone else, not me. But if the shitty shoe fits…

I feel like Jacob Two Two meets the Hooded Bill Murray on Groundhog Day part two, the fucking sequel.

I already know what is going to happen.

Oh Saturn, you Titanic re-hasher of lessons.

Cronus, father to all the gods I know and love.
The devourer of children, mostly his own.

He is the Lord of History (Repeating).

Fuck it, he is the King.

Lord hear our prayer.

Saturn Return, as I was taught, occurs in your 29th year and every 29 years until you die. Saturns re-enters your sign and stays for 7 years. This occurrence heralds a new life phase, but first, all lessons re-hashed, re-learned, re-taught, returned and repeated.

“Poor old Michael Finnegan begin again”.

I spent the 7 years I should have been in school hiding out in the damn Bell Jar/Thunderdome that was the farm. Crying, fighting, throwing tantrums, skipping class to get high, A.D.D. to the enth degree. Might as well have been Helen Keller, the early years, wildling child. “you aren’t just blind, you are deliberately blind.” American Horror Story, Coven

And on the 7th year, I left.

None the wiser.

Just like Mr. Thompson, my grade 9 math teacher, who watched me flail, Mr. Saturn took pity on us and passed me with a marginal grade. Pity or pride that I managed to cling to the mortal coil. Who knows.

“Good job honey, you sorta made it. See you in 4 years.”

The second part was written in a language I had yet to learn called ‘the future’. I got mired down in every shitty moment unaware of the passage of time.

The past serves a purpose, but I think we misuse it. We carry way too much baggage that belongs to others. It’s really not your fault you got treated that way, except you let them. So don’t let them.  I allowed myself to fall apart so I could be rebuilt, better, faster, stronger. I made a firm decision to be myself. I was struggling to find some divine purpose, some (astro) logical reason for this mess, this stress, picking the stars apart looking for hope.
“I wonder if the stars regret me, I’m sure they’d like me if they only met me.” Kate Rusby

Precedents are set to be broken and bent.
There is so much more than we can imagine.

Saturn is in trine and transit. Going direct and retrograde with alarming frequency. November 2nd 2014 until 2017. Sounds about right.

When researching for this article I learned Saturn is exalted in Libra and Gemini has no exaltation. I beg to differ, I am exal-fucking-tation incarnate.

Globally we have lessons coming in double time, being alive right now seems hauntingly familiar. If you live with ghosts, they are boogeying right out of the closet. Dance with them, ask them what they want, M.Night Shamaylan got that right. Our karma is of the instant variety and epiphanies are feeling like rumble strips, reminding us that we are indeed on the road and to slow the fuck down.

It’s déjà vu, all over again.

But I don’t like this loop, I want a new one. I want back on my rollercoaster, this carousel sucks.

Tell me teacher what’s my lesson. ~ Tears for Fears

If I needed help remembering, well I got that too. There was a dress rehearsal and I blew my lines.

I get a chance to do it again, the curtain will go up, all will be well. I know this.

“Never underestimate the power of blind faith. It can manifest in ways that bend the laws of physics or break them entirely.” (True Blood)