blaming Michelangelo for my fascination with art, religion, and naked men
Restaurants,
comic clips,
cats and dogs,
don’t make it
to the feed
right now.
I open the news
in trepidation.
Who have they
terrorized
today?
Whose fear
brought them
pleasure?
Whose distress
made them feel
powerful?
How can the
church lady
post
Disneyland pics
while her heroes
destroy
her neighbor
as herself?
I posted the following note on Facebook on November 4, 2012, just before the presidential elections, knowing I had a few family members and friends whose votes could affect my civil rights. As the Supreme Court takes up Marriage Equality today and tomorrow, I thought I’d repost it here.
A few years ago, I thought I was having a heart attack on the Garden State Parkway. Right in the middle of discussing a particularly stressful work situation with Bob, my arms and my face went numb. I could barely move my mouth. It was as if someone had administered a giant syringe of novocain into my jaw, my torso and my arms. We were both terrified. In a mumble, hauntingly similar to that of a stroke victim, I asked Bob to pull off into the rest area, while I fumbled with my tingling fingers to dial 911 on his cell phone.
seeing god naked 