What is sacred to you?

The radio is playing chants. I curl beneath my electric blanket on the floor and listen, thinking about the day, my friends, my body and soul, my past and future, illusions and reality, and this very perfect moment.

“He who yields to fear or pain or anger is a fugitive slave.” ~Marcus Aurelius

“I really enjoy your writing,” the Ultimate Waif told me. Later, for some reason, she ghosted me.

MAP told me that I can turn a phrase as well as anyone she’s ever read, but that I lack a “sellable” cohesive structure. She says I don’t take the reader into account.

I’m thinking about you, all the moments we shared and who we are to each other now. I’m thinking about what it would be like if you walked though my front door right now.

I remember she wanted to go to church with me, but when it came time for Communion, she shrank away and said, “I’m not a member here.”

“It’s okay,” I told her. “All Baptized Christian are welcome to receive the Sacraments.” It was the last time I took Communion.

Quote I read somewhere today: “Sour sixteen, when I was cooler than God.”

Later: I wasn’t ready to stop punishing myself for the cruelty of others.

All humans have weakness, but we don’t have to be weakness.

Brocimole. Don Spankenburger. Cowpotamus. Chili with Irish potatoes: chili con Blarney!