Fuck you, God!
I know — not exactly a good Catholic school-girl prayer, not a very reverent prayer, but real. And you haven’t exactly lived up to the Catholic deal, you know. That whole, “Angels guard me through the night, and keep me safe ‘til morning light” thing? Because they didn’t! Not even close. I mean, shit! I was what, three? Four? And do you know how long it has taken me to get close to accepting it, facing it? Well of course you know, fifty years. FIFTY YEAR S. And I still don’t know who that other penis belongs to.
So this was my prayer one night, one sleepless, nightmare-drenched night. Not intentionally scandalous or sacrilegious. Just honest. Let’s face it, it is more real than most of the wordy repetitions mumbled in the name of prayer. And I think God, if there is a God, prefers it real. At least I hope so. Otherwise I am SOL!
And, for the record, it seems I am not done with this blog yet. The impending visit of the Pope to England has me all a dither. Manic, tearful, afraid. Maybe because I recently just narrowly escaped the need to go to England and Ireland myself. I don’t want it to, but it disturbs my equilibrium just thinking about it. So I’ll keep blogging here while I need to.