Jury took the benches out.
[Daddy, is that you? I’m getting ready for bed.]
That one Pocono priest
[Pavone? The one I asked about?]
So I asked about it.
[me: but what about that sausage maker man who died (in an auto accident after renting the place I bought for my business before I ever knew about it)]
I never knew
[me praying, asking my father to pray with me this message doesn’t get distorted by the devil (if this is about Father Pavone) thinking people will laugh at me for fearing the devil could intercept my father’s words with false ones]
laughter is not enough to explain it
This is real
A girl named Betty
It was easy
I never knew it
It was negative.
He was rich.
[Smells like shit in my bedroom suddenly]
[It seriously smells like shit in here]
he was drawn
yacht on his weekends
[me: is this about Frank Pavone?]
I’m telling you
a third (of it?)
other people’s money
[me: please don’t call me special, did you call me special? Saying St Michael prayer again]
There should be an air hunt, a rescue.
[smells like shit, bad shit, or sulpher suddenly in my bedroom]
I’ve got a headache
Locks where he’s from
Bransfield hasn’t eaten in days
He’s shaming us.
A message to his supporters
(that would be “special”) :
He’s talking in his sleep
[me: ha ha!]
He’s “shittin” bricks now to eat.
A rescue will be necessary.
bags of it
lying in the streets
the whole town
the police force
[MARTINSBURG especially, but this could also mean the town where Bishop Bransfield is, or the old Scranton diocese]
knew about it
I see pigs
A basket drop off that wasn’t a special collection for the poor
[I’m crying. Please God don’t let Bell (I used to call Daddy “Bell”) (short for something) be crying in heaven.]
Say the MASS. (directed to the bishop, priests in general)
Did you show it
[or (“former” because he’s automatically excommunicated himself via seal violation “Dom”) Daniel Oppenheimer?]
[*I had written a letter asking Oppenheimer to offer a Mass for my mother’s health, and two others (with stipends enclosed) but Oppenheimer refused to say any of them, stating a false excuse, that I had asked that her Mass be offered specifically on her birthday, which I most definitely had not
I ponder who I’m supposed to show the letter I sent “Dom” Daniel Oppenheimer with the formal complaints (including the one regarding my seal violation) and the three mass requests and his response letter (which I still haven’t found but not perhaps looked hard enough) and my friend assures me he didn’t take*]
[My cell phone dings on my bedside table. It’s Albert. Albert: Nice music. Good morning my love how was your night? Me: It is not finished yet (Albert’s in another time zone overseas right now.) I am talking to my daddy in heaven, so Albert let’s me text him later. I want to finish the “call from heaven” because I figure my father is already a saint I should honor (as much as I really appreciate incoming texts from Albert) and heaven is an even longer distance away]
We’ll be rescued shortly by the police anyway
merit scholarship award awaits that black man (referring to the black Jefferson County cop who inferred I must be a racist)
cooking peanuts in a stew
the one who called me a nigger by the boys’ hand rules
[me: oh dear daddy I love you – sad for you]
pain in my side
[but don’t call me “special”. Did you call me special? (I don’t want to be special)]
“Eat your vegetables.”
[*I think now that “salad” is a funny analogy for the first course of a big happy feast we are going to have together*]
A party leaving
the boys for a few days
a jacket will be needed by the time
this rabbit out
of the box
I’m telling you
brothers and sisters in Christ
[Do I get to sleep? (by the way)]
touching [an itch my feet itch ]
will never recover
someone shot him in the ass
Ronny Steever’s special zero tolerance goal
[my hands hurt]
a long list
a salad for sure
Look in the box.
[the metal ones?]
the keys to the sheriff’s head
Puss in Boots
[(me smiling) you’re so funny]
[feeling peaceful, as if in a warm golden glow, our Lord’s Presence, is my daddy hanging up?]
(you won’t get rich)
Don’t forget to take out the trash.
[me, straining, reaching over to the side table to write a note to self to pay the overdue trash bill, just in case my father meant that last remark not just as seeing sure criminals are removed from office, but literally as well, praying to Jesus and through Mary to get it right]
[then Jesus’s(?) silent voice]
[me laughing, knowing that means my sincere extra efforts will “pay” my way into heaven!]
[I continue to pray, to talk to Jesus and Mary]
[something private I do not know if I should share publicly regarding a dear friend and her grown daughter]
[How do I tell her?]
(tell her to) (?) Cease contact.
When she got it, she theoretically had cancer.
[But will (the daughter) be alright? I don’t think of (the daughter) as evil]
It will be alright then.
[Scary feeling like an evil force trying to snatch something away. Image of my mother in her psychotic rage trying to snatch phone away from me when I was calling 911 for her]
[said several St Michael the Archangel prayers, Jesus and Mary’s Names out loud and said a Hail Mary out loud, knowing their Names scare Satan away]
[And then suddenly I have a vivid memory of how I asked Ralph and his assistant, Stewart Willems much less competent and much less trustworthy brother (they jokingly called each other Earl and Earl ) (and other workers like John Higdon could get up on the roof, but did not remove walls to my knowledge) to expose the natural wood beams of the barn walls in the upstairs of my business, Little Shepherd Cuisine. I had always wondered why someone had covered up such beautiful 100 plus year old chestnut beamed walls with cheap white wall board]
They were going to take the money and run.