Wow, tomorrow's going to have to be another 5:30am wake up, get the venti Starbucks crack, and GET MANIC, because I'm as-of-yet totally unprepared for my birthday party. I haven't even showered yet today and it's 3:30pm. I still have to plan an iPod mix, buy food (and come up with appetizer recipes), buy drinks, buy disposable plates/cups/cutlery, buy smokes, dust my room, get gas, wrap gifts for others, and finalize the ever-changing head count. I wanted to give my friend a mix CD, but I'm not sure I have the brain power/creative energy to throw together 20 poignant songs out of 3,000 in my iTunes before Saturday night. I won't be home Saturday afternoon, going to a gathering at my sponsor's house, so that's time lost on Party Day, which is fine, though I can only afford to stay for about an hour. But I want to go. It just means packing more into Friday than I planned, having had a Shit Ass Thursday.
Today was a clusterfuck (thus far, but I haven't gone to Luke's therapy session yet). Up at 5:45, made Luke's breakfast and lunch, sped him to school, then dicked around for like 3 hours online trying to find a decent price on my Psych book for this summer. The professor kindly emailed us and pointed us in its direction, though I'd been searching by ISBN # and that kept landing me to sold-out sites, the wrong edition, etc. Emailed her back, asking (politely) where the fuck she found it, as I was already failing, and she suggested I search by title and author. Amazon. Boom. $50 instead of $162 at school. Amazon declined my debit card, though it was just loaded with $$ this morning. Turns out, I transposed the digits on the card. My bad. Smooth sailing from there. Abnormal Psychology. Yay, back to learning ALL ABOUT MY FAVORITE SUBJECT, ME! ;)
So Donna Summer died. Rest in peace, Disco Queen, but please. People on Facebook and Twitter? The adage "Today was her LAST DANCE! RIP!" was well-coined the first time I saw it. By the 18th scroll down my news feed, having heard it also from the Official Estate of Rick James, it was tiresome. Feeling I *had* to post one of her clips to my page, I chose the official, 17-minute version of "Love to Love You Baby," which is the moaning, sexually-fueled disco equivalent of "In A Gadda Da Vida." Taken in musical context, however, it IS roughly the length of the average (still married) Baby Boomer/former disco-dancing couple's lovemaking sessions once every couple of months.
Right now, I'm outside trying to stay out of Ma's way, as she's cleaning in the house. I've had 3 dizzy spells today, ate 2 protein bars and had a shake, and am not hungry. I'm stress-starving. One dizzy spell was while I was helping my mom take the screens out of the kitchen windows she was cleaning. She was angered by my near-collapse, which I blamed on getting up too fast and my blood pressure dropping (which happens with my heart condition). I took Excedrin but I have a migraine anyway. I took Meclizine but am still dizzy. As my mother is fond of telling me, "You have an answer and a pill for everything."
Profundity was all over the map today, from Nez to Pastor Dave to my sponsor, to me, to someecards.com.
Unfortunately, I have not yet made it into my literal sassy pants, but my brain was full of it today.
Nez was talking about new music he's developing, and how he's trying to write a song that people will actually dance to, a goal that has eluded him for decades. He stumbled upon the following notion that resounded brightly in my head:
In other exciting music news (that doesn't involve anyone dying), My Bloody Valentine is coming out with their first EP since their 1991 album "Loveless." SHOEGAZERS! YOU HAVE REASON TO LIVE AGAIN! I said today that you'd have to pry my "Loveless" shirt from Craig off my cold, dead body, but that that would be VERY My Bloody Valentine and apropos. And Dinosaur Jr. are playing in Chicago! At a street fest! On the same night I have band! BOOOOOO to that, because I had planned on stealing Lou Barlow away from his wife and children (as every other 40-year old former shoegazer would be planning. Please. Steven admits to having a mancrush on the guy. He's THAT cute.)
I'm realizing more and more, the longer I circle the drain, that my penchant for fighting with people using words is a craft that both God and Satan bless and destroy me with. If I had the inclination, I'd have made a great defense attorney on paper, though I loathe almost every lawyer I've ever met except for my friend guy friend Joel, but he's like Lou Barlowesque. If you want to fight with me, don't come to my face, whereupon I mentally crumble and just swear a lot. Don't yell at me, because I'm anti-authoritarian. Let me write it all out. It's better than my roundhouse kick.
First of all, don't get me wrong. I honestly love all of my friends. A lot. That's why I've invited them over Saturday night. But life has taught me that you *have* to be selective with whom you tell what, or people who claim to be your friend will use things against you, assault you, misunderstand you, etc. Somebody will invariably get hurt at some point. We're all human.
I have certain friends who know certain things. What my addict/alcoholic friends know isn't necessarily what my grade school friends know. My church friends aren't going to know the same thing as my college pals. My friends in the medical/chemical fields who know a lot won't play with the same cards as my family. Who has Carte Blanche, though? Who knows all of it---good, bad, ugly, indifferent, sick, glorious, amazing, sad, twisted, right and wrong? Kate. Only Kate. Distance, time zones, and chronic illness can't begin to separate our bond.
Knowing me through it all for about 20 years helps. She, having been my resident assistant in the artsy/dork dorm my sophomore year in college (her husband was a Russian professor at Knox, and she is, as I've said, a professional artist), came down to do a load of laundry in the basement, where I was hanging my Clapton tour t-shirt to dry. When Kate tells that story, she insists I looked at her with a "If you fucking TOUCH this shirt, I'll fucking kill you!" look. A "street" look, she says. Over those loads of laundry, we started to talk, liked one another immediately, and the rest is history. (She didn't steal my t-shirt.)
Kate loves Luke, though they've never met in person. Kate left a message on my and Craig's answering machine the absolute very minute (7:28 pm) Luke was busy being, you know, BORN. They've talked here and there on the phone, but Kate watches his videos and to my great surprise, I found out long ago, had been saving every picture of Luke I'd mailed her and compiled a photo album just of Luke. She doesn't doubt my capability as a mother, thinks I'm doing just fine. Kate never had children due to her chronic illnesses. I enjoy sharing Luke with her, and she's a great aunt to many, several who have been named after her because naming a kid "Awesome" is kinda silly.
Kate wrote me what was probably the nicest, most flattering email yesterday, after I'd expressed worry that if I called her when I got home tonight, I'd be "disturbing" her. She said this:
Wow. Just wow. Not just a huge ego boost, but a very-much needed smile after email bitching all day with someone else. To me, she's the brainiac, the talented one, the funny one, the beautiful one to whom I pale in comparison. She's jealous of me? I can't even hold down a part-time job working for a crew of imbeciles (Lips and Tatus excepted). She finished "War and Peace!"
One thing Kate and I can always agree on is our mutual love of men in general. We both prefer the company of men to that of women, though each of us has our core, small center of women that we're close to and always will be, but again, that's a selective bunch and new candidates in the selection process must pass strict criteria. We're both friends with a lot of guys that neither of us is sleeping with. It was decided that if men can be stereotyped as "womanizers," Kate and I would be "manizers." We both find the majority of women in this world to be inherently catty, bitchy, jealous, gossiping, back-stabbing she-devils. (Consequently, a lot of women hate us. Meh. Fuck ya'll.)
Which brings me to my next subject. Sin and sinners.
Now, technically, if Kate is jealous of me, she's coveting something I have that she wishes she had. (This is a moot point in reality and Kate is ecstatic for me.) She's breaking the 10th Commandment. Let's say, hypothetically, that I had a manservant that Kate was coveting. According to the Bible (Matthew 18:15-18), if Kate was sinning against ME, I am to take that up with Kate. If she doesn't repent, the Bible says to inform 2 or 3 more people of her sin AGAINST ME and if she STILL won't repent, then I'm to rat her out to the Church, who will ex-communicate her until she DOES repent, at which time she'd be welcomed back.
I checked this factoid out with Pastor today, in light of the bitching fest via email that was going on between myself and someone from church (yes, more church trouble) who unjustly was accusing me of breaking one of the Commandments and had been invited to my party out of politeness and obligation, though her mere presence would unease more than one of my guests. Several of them, frankly, who honestly can't handle her opinions about everything. Mind you, said Commandment has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH this woman. I didn't break the Commandment, and furthermore, the "alleged sin" wasn't against her. Yet in one of her emails to me, the woman said it was her RIGHT, as a Christian, to call me out, as another Christian, if I'm sinning or acting not in accordance with our faith, which put the punk in me. But when she equated one of my guests as being the equivalent of a "bottle of booze," I lost my shit. I told her that was a grave, unfair insult to one of my friends that I simply would not tolerate.
So I went to Pastor Dave, who, incidentally, is one of my guy friends. I asked him about (her term) "Christian Accountability." He said yes, that right is present, as long as Biblical guidelines are followed according to the verses above and only then. He said, "As Christians, we do not judge hypocritically or self-righteously."
This woman holds a PhD in Self-Righteousness and is one of the most judgmental folks I've ever met. She insists her judgment isn't such, that she's coming from a place of Christian and friendly concern, blah blah. She literally almost grades Christians on their piety or lack thereof. Gasp! I told her in my email today that Pastor knows I believe in and practice some of the tenets of Hinduism and Buddhism and even HE isn't judging me on the Seat of Righteousness for breaking the First Commandment, having other church members gang up on me until I repent, or ex-communicating me. I told her I'm not accountable to a variety of people, who I felt I *was* accountable to, and that ultimately, it was between God and me, not ANY human. Certainly, I wasn't accountable to HER sorry ass.
Pastor asked me of what I was accused, and I told him. I also told him that this woman shared the alleged sin with other church members, which she did in hopes that someone would "influence" me into not breaking the Commandment I haven't broken. Well, guess what? She must have told people who know me pretty damn well, because nobody said boo to me. I know my sponsor is Person #1. I don't know who Person #2 or more is/are. I told her that the people she told must obviously think I'm capable of making my own, good decisions and know my heart and that this woman, who gossips in whispers loud enough in the sanctuary that the whole congregation can hear her, was probably spewing biased conjecture about me.
A product of her Christian Care and Concern (read: busybodiness) was attempting to have my sponsor recruit me as a sponsee when my first sponsor moved out-of-state and I was sponsorless. She relentlessly pressured her to get in touch with me. Without any knowledge, background, education or, for that matter, necessity, she had to be sat down and explained to that it wasn't how AA works. Potential sponsors don't go out looking for sponsees. My sponsor knew that I had her number, saw her at church, was friendly with her, and that if and when I was ready, I'd give her a call. And I did. And it was one of the best calls I ever made. Talk about someone you can jive with, laugh with, who gets some of your uniqueness because of the common demon of alcohol? That's it, baby. (My sponsor is one of the people to whom I'm accountable. To work my program, to do my homework. To go to my meetings. 'Cause she'll kick my ass if I don't and I want to stay sober. She's also funny as shit.)
The point being, I was uneasy having the Queen of Self-Righteousness at my party because she DOES pry. She does feel entitled to an opinion, is nosy and would make other guests very uncomfortable to the point of defensiveness, which I don't want to happen in my home, where everyone should feel welcome. She'd make all the recovering alcoholics want to run to the liquor store. She'd have the neurotics asking me for Estazolam. The younger crowd would mouth to me "WTF?" I'd be chain-smoking. Everybody's asses would be worn out. She can't believe that I don't believe she has the capacity to behave herself in a social setting. I told her that frankly, I don't trust her. And if there Ain't No Party Like a Christ/Krishna Party, as the signs on the door will tell you, damn straight people are going to enjoy themselves and relax. We're not there to talk about God and Christianity all night (even WITH Pastor there or not there) and Commandments and "Ooh, look what Annie's doing over there! I'm keeping a list and that's the 27th time during the party Annie's taken the Lord's name in vain!"
Kate rattled off a number of Bible passages to rally for me, the most popular, obviously, the "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone," so I ran with that as the subject heading of my email retort today. That ate up a decent portion of my afternoon, defending my honor, my friends' honors and justifying things that didn't need to be justified. No wonder I didn't eat, had a migraine and couldn't shower until 5pm. This woman likes to email me back while I'm asleep at night, so IF I hear anything tomorrow, it's going to have to fucking wait because I have rock-n-roll to accomplish.
If I've learned anything in the last couple of days, it's this: People like to pick on other people when they themselves feel bad about something they are doing/did/want to do. Envy is rampant and ugly. We all sin and have fallen short of the glory of God. No one's blameless. But I didn't break this particular Commandment of which I was accused in a conspiracy with the party guest she essentially called as poisonous and deadly to me as a bottle of booze.
Not yet, anyway.
God knows what'll happen if Kate and I see each other in MA over the summer, double if my cousin, Paul, is involved with Luke in the center. And donkeys. On the Sabbath Day. Referring to all our parents as lousy motherfuckers. Chanting to Krishna. Saying "FUCK YOU!" at the top of our lungs to passersby. Killing someone with a knife we stole from a married couple we all screwed. Bearing false witness while coveting Kate's neighbors' houses. Kate eventually winning over my manservant (or one of them, I have so many). Paul thanking all the Gods he's a Unitarian Universalist and not a Lutheran....
Today was a clusterfuck (thus far, but I haven't gone to Luke's therapy session yet). Up at 5:45, made Luke's breakfast and lunch, sped him to school, then dicked around for like 3 hours online trying to find a decent price on my Psych book for this summer. The professor kindly emailed us and pointed us in its direction, though I'd been searching by ISBN # and that kept landing me to sold-out sites, the wrong edition, etc. Emailed her back, asking (politely) where the fuck she found it, as I was already failing, and she suggested I search by title and author. Amazon. Boom. $50 instead of $162 at school. Amazon declined my debit card, though it was just loaded with $$ this morning. Turns out, I transposed the digits on the card. My bad. Smooth sailing from there. Abnormal Psychology. Yay, back to learning ALL ABOUT MY FAVORITE SUBJECT, ME! ;)
So Donna Summer died. Rest in peace, Disco Queen, but please. People on Facebook and Twitter? The adage "Today was her LAST DANCE! RIP!" was well-coined the first time I saw it. By the 18th scroll down my news feed, having heard it also from the Official Estate of Rick James, it was tiresome. Feeling I *had* to post one of her clips to my page, I chose the official, 17-minute version of "Love to Love You Baby," which is the moaning, sexually-fueled disco equivalent of "In A Gadda Da Vida." Taken in musical context, however, it IS roughly the length of the average (still married) Baby Boomer/former disco-dancing couple's lovemaking sessions once every couple of months.
Right now, I'm outside trying to stay out of Ma's way, as she's cleaning in the house. I've had 3 dizzy spells today, ate 2 protein bars and had a shake, and am not hungry. I'm stress-starving. One dizzy spell was while I was helping my mom take the screens out of the kitchen windows she was cleaning. She was angered by my near-collapse, which I blamed on getting up too fast and my blood pressure dropping (which happens with my heart condition). I took Excedrin but I have a migraine anyway. I took Meclizine but am still dizzy. As my mother is fond of telling me, "You have an answer and a pill for everything."
Profundity was all over the map today, from Nez to Pastor Dave to my sponsor, to me, to someecards.com.
Nez was talking about new music he's developing, and how he's trying to write a song that people will actually dance to, a goal that has eluded him for decades. He stumbled upon the following notion that resounded brightly in my head:
"Whatever wisdom I may have has come because my soul has been defined in song, and now I sense the song in everyone. That is the spectrum I am on. It is the only one I understand."LOUD AND CLEAR. I think in songs. I communicate with other people in songs. Songs have been written about me. I'm "The Pattie Boyd of the Northwest Side." That is how, as I was saying earlier, I *can* make a unified, cohesive CD of 20 songs for someone out of 3,000 songs in my library, with little effort. I claim Queen of the Ball on that task, with my male best friend as the King, if not the Total Dictator.
In other exciting music news (that doesn't involve anyone dying), My Bloody Valentine is coming out with their first EP since their 1991 album "Loveless." SHOEGAZERS! YOU HAVE REASON TO LIVE AGAIN! I said today that you'd have to pry my "Loveless" shirt from Craig off my cold, dead body, but that that would be VERY My Bloody Valentine and apropos. And Dinosaur Jr. are playing in Chicago! At a street fest! On the same night I have band! BOOOOOO to that, because I had planned on stealing Lou Barlow away from his wife and children (as every other 40-year old former shoegazer would be planning. Please. Steven admits to having a mancrush on the guy. He's THAT cute.)
I'm realizing more and more, the longer I circle the drain, that my penchant for fighting with people using words is a craft that both God and Satan bless and destroy me with. If I had the inclination, I'd have made a great defense attorney on paper, though I loathe almost every lawyer I've ever met except for my friend guy friend Joel, but he's like Lou Barlowesque. If you want to fight with me, don't come to my face, whereupon I mentally crumble and just swear a lot. Don't yell at me, because I'm anti-authoritarian. Let me write it all out. It's better than my roundhouse kick.
First of all, don't get me wrong. I honestly love all of my friends. A lot. That's why I've invited them over Saturday night. But life has taught me that you *have* to be selective with whom you tell what, or people who claim to be your friend will use things against you, assault you, misunderstand you, etc. Somebody will invariably get hurt at some point. We're all human.
I have certain friends who know certain things. What my addict/alcoholic friends know isn't necessarily what my grade school friends know. My church friends aren't going to know the same thing as my college pals. My friends in the medical/chemical fields who know a lot won't play with the same cards as my family. Who has Carte Blanche, though? Who knows all of it---good, bad, ugly, indifferent, sick, glorious, amazing, sad, twisted, right and wrong? Kate. Only Kate. Distance, time zones, and chronic illness can't begin to separate our bond.
Knowing me through it all for about 20 years helps. She, having been my resident assistant in the artsy/dork dorm my sophomore year in college (her husband was a Russian professor at Knox, and she is, as I've said, a professional artist), came down to do a load of laundry in the basement, where I was hanging my Clapton tour t-shirt to dry. When Kate tells that story, she insists I looked at her with a "If you fucking TOUCH this shirt, I'll fucking kill you!" look. A "street" look, she says. Over those loads of laundry, we started to talk, liked one another immediately, and the rest is history. (She didn't steal my t-shirt.)
Kate loves Luke, though they've never met in person. Kate left a message on my and Craig's answering machine the absolute very minute (7:28 pm) Luke was busy being, you know, BORN. They've talked here and there on the phone, but Kate watches his videos and to my great surprise, I found out long ago, had been saving every picture of Luke I'd mailed her and compiled a photo album just of Luke. She doesn't doubt my capability as a mother, thinks I'm doing just fine. Kate never had children due to her chronic illnesses. I enjoy sharing Luke with her, and she's a great aunt to many, several who have been named after her because naming a kid "Awesome" is kinda silly.
Kate wrote me what was probably the nicest, most flattering email yesterday, after I'd expressed worry that if I called her when I got home tonight, I'd be "disturbing" her. She said this:
What is this about " I don't want to disturb you?"!
Andrea, I am here for you 24 hours a day, no matterwhat is going on. You are family to me. You are the onlyhealthy relationship I have ever had with a woman.You call me whenever you want and if Tim says I'msleeping you tell him it is really important, even if youjust want to tell me about some hot t-shirt you just got.I've never had a girl friend who liked men as much as I do.You do. I never had a girl friend who was anywhere near as talented as you , not at RISD , not at Harvard.You are the funniest human being I have ever met. You also has suffered more than anyone I ever met. ( you blame yourself , I am going to make sure that behavior stops!)You undersand me. If you were not my friend I would be so jealous of you, I'd be really jealous of you.I feel like a lot of bad things in my life have happened. God has blessed meto balance things out. You are one of the biggest blessings of all.Love,Kate
Wow. Just wow. Not just a huge ego boost, but a very-much needed smile after email bitching all day with someone else. To me, she's the brainiac, the talented one, the funny one, the beautiful one to whom I pale in comparison. She's jealous of me? I can't even hold down a part-time job working for a crew of imbeciles (Lips and Tatus excepted). She finished "War and Peace!"
One thing Kate and I can always agree on is our mutual love of men in general. We both prefer the company of men to that of women, though each of us has our core, small center of women that we're close to and always will be, but again, that's a selective bunch and new candidates in the selection process must pass strict criteria. We're both friends with a lot of guys that neither of us is sleeping with. It was decided that if men can be stereotyped as "womanizers," Kate and I would be "manizers." We both find the majority of women in this world to be inherently catty, bitchy, jealous, gossiping, back-stabbing she-devils. (Consequently, a lot of women hate us. Meh. Fuck ya'll.)
Which brings me to my next subject. Sin and sinners.
Now, technically, if Kate is jealous of me, she's coveting something I have that she wishes she had. (This is a moot point in reality and Kate is ecstatic for me.) She's breaking the 10th Commandment. Let's say, hypothetically, that I had a manservant that Kate was coveting. According to the Bible (Matthew 18:15-18), if Kate was sinning against ME, I am to take that up with Kate. If she doesn't repent, the Bible says to inform 2 or 3 more people of her sin AGAINST ME and if she STILL won't repent, then I'm to rat her out to the Church, who will ex-communicate her until she DOES repent, at which time she'd be welcomed back.
I checked this factoid out with Pastor today, in light of the bitching fest via email that was going on between myself and someone from church (yes, more church trouble) who unjustly was accusing me of breaking one of the Commandments and had been invited to my party out of politeness and obligation, though her mere presence would unease more than one of my guests. Several of them, frankly, who honestly can't handle her opinions about everything. Mind you, said Commandment has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH this woman. I didn't break the Commandment, and furthermore, the "alleged sin" wasn't against her. Yet in one of her emails to me, the woman said it was her RIGHT, as a Christian, to call me out, as another Christian, if I'm sinning or acting not in accordance with our faith, which put the punk in me. But when she equated one of my guests as being the equivalent of a "bottle of booze," I lost my shit. I told her that was a grave, unfair insult to one of my friends that I simply would not tolerate.
So I went to Pastor Dave, who, incidentally, is one of my guy friends. I asked him about (her term) "Christian Accountability." He said yes, that right is present, as long as Biblical guidelines are followed according to the verses above and only then. He said, "As Christians, we do not judge hypocritically or self-righteously."
This woman holds a PhD in Self-Righteousness and is one of the most judgmental folks I've ever met. She insists her judgment isn't such, that she's coming from a place of Christian and friendly concern, blah blah. She literally almost grades Christians on their piety or lack thereof. Gasp! I told her in my email today that Pastor knows I believe in and practice some of the tenets of Hinduism and Buddhism and even HE isn't judging me on the Seat of Righteousness for breaking the First Commandment, having other church members gang up on me until I repent, or ex-communicating me. I told her I'm not accountable to a variety of people, who I felt I *was* accountable to, and that ultimately, it was between God and me, not ANY human. Certainly, I wasn't accountable to HER sorry ass.
Pastor asked me of what I was accused, and I told him. I also told him that this woman shared the alleged sin with other church members, which she did in hopes that someone would "influence" me into not breaking the Commandment I haven't broken. Well, guess what? She must have told people who know me pretty damn well, because nobody said boo to me. I know my sponsor is Person #1. I don't know who Person #2 or more is/are. I told her that the people she told must obviously think I'm capable of making my own, good decisions and know my heart and that this woman, who gossips in whispers loud enough in the sanctuary that the whole congregation can hear her, was probably spewing biased conjecture about me.
A product of her Christian Care and Concern (read: busybodiness) was attempting to have my sponsor recruit me as a sponsee when my first sponsor moved out-of-state and I was sponsorless. She relentlessly pressured her to get in touch with me. Without any knowledge, background, education or, for that matter, necessity, she had to be sat down and explained to that it wasn't how AA works. Potential sponsors don't go out looking for sponsees. My sponsor knew that I had her number, saw her at church, was friendly with her, and that if and when I was ready, I'd give her a call. And I did. And it was one of the best calls I ever made. Talk about someone you can jive with, laugh with, who gets some of your uniqueness because of the common demon of alcohol? That's it, baby. (My sponsor is one of the people to whom I'm accountable. To work my program, to do my homework. To go to my meetings. 'Cause she'll kick my ass if I don't and I want to stay sober. She's also funny as shit.)
The point being, I was uneasy having the Queen of Self-Righteousness at my party because she DOES pry. She does feel entitled to an opinion, is nosy and would make other guests very uncomfortable to the point of defensiveness, which I don't want to happen in my home, where everyone should feel welcome. She'd make all the recovering alcoholics want to run to the liquor store. She'd have the neurotics asking me for Estazolam. The younger crowd would mouth to me "WTF?" I'd be chain-smoking. Everybody's asses would be worn out. She can't believe that I don't believe she has the capacity to behave herself in a social setting. I told her that frankly, I don't trust her. And if there Ain't No Party Like a Christ/Krishna Party, as the signs on the door will tell you, damn straight people are going to enjoy themselves and relax. We're not there to talk about God and Christianity all night (even WITH Pastor there or not there) and Commandments and "Ooh, look what Annie's doing over there! I'm keeping a list and that's the 27th time during the party Annie's taken the Lord's name in vain!"
Kate rattled off a number of Bible passages to rally for me, the most popular, obviously, the "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone," so I ran with that as the subject heading of my email retort today. That ate up a decent portion of my afternoon, defending my honor, my friends' honors and justifying things that didn't need to be justified. No wonder I didn't eat, had a migraine and couldn't shower until 5pm. This woman likes to email me back while I'm asleep at night, so IF I hear anything tomorrow, it's going to have to fucking wait because I have rock-n-roll to accomplish.
If I've learned anything in the last couple of days, it's this: People like to pick on other people when they themselves feel bad about something they are doing/did/want to do. Envy is rampant and ugly. We all sin and have fallen short of the glory of God. No one's blameless. But I didn't break this particular Commandment of which I was accused in a conspiracy with the party guest she essentially called as poisonous and deadly to me as a bottle of booze.
Not yet, anyway.
God knows what'll happen if Kate and I see each other in MA over the summer, double if my cousin, Paul, is involved with Luke in the center. And donkeys. On the Sabbath Day. Referring to all our parents as lousy motherfuckers. Chanting to Krishna. Saying "FUCK YOU!" at the top of our lungs to passersby. Killing someone with a knife we stole from a married couple we all screwed. Bearing false witness while coveting Kate's neighbors' houses. Kate eventually winning over my manservant (or one of them, I have so many). Paul thanking all the Gods he's a Unitarian Universalist and not a Lutheran....
1 comment:
Annie
You know all of my views and feelings in regards to this writing already so I dont think I need to post them. You are a joy and blessing to me as my friend and I will always cherish that no matter what anyone ever says or writes !!! We hold a special place and connection with each and God put"you" in my life for a reason and purpose!!!!
Love ya Girlfriend!!!! JD
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