The Shattered Prayer

Sure, birthdays are lots more fun, but death-days are important too - at least for those of us who know when we’re gonna die (there are some drawbacks to being a prophet.)

I’m going to lie around in my underwear and eat pound-cake. I’m going to read. Might watch a bad movie on the sci-fi channel. I’m going to drink too much coffee. I’m gonna smell like dirt (and wine). And nobody better ask me to do a goddam thing.

The DEA had visited that day. Rock showed the agents around all hundred acres of the farm. There wasn’t a marijuana plant in site. But there were cucumbers, tomatoes, squash, beans and peas, all organically grown. Rock sent the agents home with a basket full of fresh vegetables.

Hey, I realize I’m hallucinating, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t do Tarot readings. I’ve done 13 readings so far for the Blogathon, which is pretty good going I think. But there’s still some hours left, and if I could add at this hour of the morning, I’d tell you how many.

Every day somebody is offended by something. Usually its  christians, we all know how they are. This time its the pagans.

So around 5 am, I woke up, having to pee. Nothing unusual about this, it happens nearly every night. And I was just about to drag my ass out of bed to go to the toilet when I heard this deep, growling voice that sort of emerged from nowhere.

I don’t practice Magick to entertain R the P. And the fact that he finds one of the most powerful of the Voodoo powers amusing is somewhat bothersome. But mostly I find R the P’s skepticism as amusing as he finds spiritual matters.

I was married to a skeptic for five years, and not the fun kind of skeptic like R the P.

Bas said:
Science has the nice added danger that someone comes along and proves you have been thinking the wrong way.

This was in response to my blogathon post for Game 18 in which I described my most treasured memory as fossil-hunting with my dad.

I replied to Bas’ comment, but I don’t think I replied enough.