no. (roses_rejoice) wrote,

  • Mood:

The Saints of Los Angeles.

I have been in an intensive art workshop for the last two days. We go 10-12 hours a day, because the time needed to do stuff is running way over. It's physically tedious work and I have been getting only 4 hours of sleep a night since Wednesday. The dictionary needs a whole new adjective to describe the kind of tired I am right now. I don't think I will be doing one of these again because the stress is too much on me, especially since I have to fly back early tomorrow morning, go straight into work and catch up everything that hasn't been done over the past week I have been out.

It's extremely frustrating when you put in a bunch of effort to do something and it doesn't go right. You'd think I'd be talking abt the art but I'm not. I'm staying at Mom's and she fusses when I don't go to church on her watch. So I generally go because, given that I don't have some huge moral or psychological church aversion, it's easier to just punch the ticket for an hour than stress out one's 83-year-old mama who already has a heart condition. Plus, if you figure I am here for a weekend once a month, then at least I'm dropping by Mass 1/4 of the time which is better for my spiritual health than zero time. I can't relate to much of the church experience beyond the Jesus part (I.e. I could do without all the other ppl around and the sermons and music are usually blah) but I have always been taught that you go to church to hang out with Jesus/ God and not with the priest or the other ppl so, whatever. Mom and I usually go together but because I have Art Purgatory for another 10 hours today, I had to haul ass out of bed and try to get to an 8 am service at a church I don't normally attend. (There is no way in hell Ma would ever make it to an 8 am Mass at this point in her life unless somebody died or something.) When the alarm went off at 5:30 am, I woke up feeling incredibly ill and it took me forever to get up and moving, with the predictable result that when I got to the mass it was all parked up (we're talkin' side streets too) and I had no choice but to drive around trying to keep from swearing, puking or crying in my fatigued state, until somebody left early and I could take their spot. I got in the building just in time to see the priest cruising off the altar during the closing hymn, but hell, I went to church, dammit, ok? Did it ever occur to the Catholic Church that if they really want to get some more butts in their seats they could (besides firing all those pedos and crazies and hiring some intelligent, mentally balanced, committed FEMALE priests) work out a better parking system? With fewer and fewer Masses this parked-up shite happens a lot at many churches, and it's a pain. I'm not going to lie and say it's the only or even the major reason why I don't get there, but it's a factor. If you're wondering what the Main reason is, let's just say I'd be a lot more inclined to hit the Godbox if it was more like a Bobshow, and by that I don't mean there has to be drinking or entertainment or even good music, but rather that I could feel there was anyone there besides Jesus who actually understood me and my head and my feelings and gave a damn. I'm a space alien there like I'm a space alien almost everywhere else.

When I push the envelope and get this tired, there are devils in my head. it takes energy to constantly beat back the loneliness that never goes away, and the voices that say you are bad. I used to long for rescue or for someone to hug me, now I don't because even if I found those things they would just go away, be taken away. The last two or three times I had ppl that I depended on to be there, they didn't stay, so I don't try anymore, I just protect myself. I haven't seen Ted in days which sucks because he helps keep me sane. He is a fixed sign all right, like a large cuddly rock of Gibraltar, complete with apes. Rusty pestered me the other nite abt "so where's your husband dear, and why doesn't he come with you to these shows?" which inquiry would of pissed me off (mind yer own damn business) except Rusty is a friend, albeit a distant one, so it didn't. Plus I'd already barged on his personal space by asking him wha'happened to the last two "Mrs. Rustys" he used to bring to shows. I explained that Ted doesn't like live bands or running around to shows, and I did, so I went by myself and couples don't need to share everything to be happy blah blah. But I think even more than that, you don't put the Rock of Gibraltar on a leash and haul it around with you. Its glory is, it stays put, so the apes always have a place to play. That's what people should be to each other, they should stay with each other. Love isn't some fucking big wedding or family deal, it's staying with, in whatever sense you stay - maybe it's physical, maybe it's just that you are always there to talk to. Why this is so hard for ppl to understand, let alone to find in this world, is beyond me.

Ah well, so I'm a meeserable sleepy fuckup today. I'm pretty sure God still loves us rock n' roll fuckups though and wants us to be happy. Otherwise, He wouldn't have given us a new album by Motley Crue. Crue rules, mang.
  • Post a new comment


    Comments allowed for friends only

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded