Touch The Face Of God

Dear Hearts,

The house is clean. Well sorta. It probably isn’t clean enough and I probably didn’t do it right. But it’s clean. Last time I cleaned like this was for T. Jag-Off. I am supposed to dust, but I don’t see that in my future.

The presents are under the tree that now boasts a new strand of multi-colored lights to contrast the little white lights. The Christmas Table Cloth is on the table. I still need to wash the Christmas dishes.

I did my best—but that’s usually not good enough.

I was begged off of dinner with G-Pa and Aunt Faerie because I had a really bad Episode. I was ambivalent about going to dinner tonight, but I had my mind made up to go. Then the Episode hit.

I don’t give a fuck that the house is “all ready” for Christmas. I don’t give a fuck about the presents under the tree. I just have to ENDURE Christmas Eve when Aunt Faerie cooks Swedish supper: Bugsy begrudgingly comes, along with Amy, my cousin, and her second husband and daughter. Kids. Ew. I can hear Aunt Faerie exasperating as she is reading this. I really wish I could give a fuck, but I can’t muster it up. I just want to get it over with. I will put on my happy mask and fake it. (I know I will have an Episode. I will. I just don't want to do this...it hurts.

And then what? Mom comes the 12^th. We leave for the East the 21^st. I miss Mom. But I don’t really give a fuck about the rest. I feel so disconnected from Life and Reality. It’s like fucking Scrim of CD. It’s like looking through a slightly opaque veil. I can see shapes and colors—but I don’t feel connected to them.

While I was cleaning today I revisited Christmases past. CD and the Demons were very chatty. The good ones are the ones I don’t want to go to—because they hurt more than the bad ones. They remind me of what I lost.

I think this is going to be a tougher Christmas than I thought to be away from Mom and Dad. I just want to give up. Everyone says it’ll take time and it’ll get better. But, it hasn’t.

I want to feel spiritually something about Christmas: The Birth of Christ. Can’t really do that either. I feel very guilty about that. And sad.

My motivation for each day: habit. And G-Pa.

After Dad talked me through my Episode, I looked through the Nebraska Buffalo Hunt pictures. I actually spontaneously smiled.

I used to go to England in my mind when I needed to be not in my head. Now I go to Nebraska.

I touched the Face of God that day of the Buffalo Hunt

“…Have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.” Genesis 1:28

I get my meat from the grocery store. I don’t live off or with the land particularly. I don’t want to.

God gave us all life. The Buffalo—he gave life to. I was there when Buffalo breathed his last. I will forever be changed. I witnessed what is so sanitized in our society—I saw Man v. Nature. Life and Death. A tradition as old as time. I touched the Face of God.

The rolling hills—no Starbucks or Walmart. The air clean of light, noise, and air pollution. Those hills have not changed in over a thousand years. Distractions—being in Nebraska I was away from the distractions. Like, when I was shooting the gun. It was just me, the sight, and the target. I had to be Still. I witnessed the basic instinct of Man in the Hunt.

That Majestic creature Sacrificed himself for me. I Honor that. I stood on the line of Life and Death. I touched God.

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

PS: My life will totally change again with the advent of the New Year. DECSIONS—that I can barely whisper to myself—have to be made. St. Jude, Christ, God, Mother Mary—I prostrate myself before you and beg for succor.

PPS: Every day U push the rock up the hill…when will I get too tired to do that anymore?

PPPS: The Winter Solstice, the darkest day of the year. I'm not sure if I can even recognize light anymore.