THAT
is the name
of the
SISTER LOUISA Art Piece
that “she” just did
for the
MondoHOMO
QueerFest
Art Show.
I assume
that they assume
that I am gay.
The theme is
respond to your city
where you were born,
grew up,
live now,
want to go.
Being old,
and having
EARNED
the right to say
anything I want to say
has it’s advantages.
Similarly,
soon,
I’m sure,
I’ll start
wearing Shorts,
Black Work Socks,
Black Dress Shoes,
and a Pocket Protector.
At the beach.
When asked
by the show curator
what is the medium
on which this art piece
was executed,
I stated formally:
OIL PAINT MARKERS ON UGLY ASS PAINTINGS.
(or something like that).
When I was younger,
I would have been
trembling in my boots,
worried sick,
that what i stated
to the curator
of the
Big City
Gay Ass
Art Show
was socially acceptable.
It’s like Sister Louisa Art.
It’s ain’t pretty,
but it sure is true.
CHURCH
to me has always been
a place that I’ve been
comfortable.
No.
I did not grow up Catholic
like everybody assumes.
I did grow up
scared shitless
that I wouldn’t be ready on time
to make it to Church
because I knew
that My Mother
would come chasing us all
with a belt,
Dad included,
if we weren’t
to the Church
on time.
It was humorous,
but at the time,
I was terrified.
My dry skin
doesn’t take
to spankings.
Later,
Church became a place
where my kids were safe,
where they had friends,
where I had friends,
and where we all
ESCAPED REALITY!!!
ja jajaja ja jaja
Actually,
I loved the escape.
I remember Mary Grace,
being passed around
the Church Cafeteria,
like a plate of those
Fellowship Hall Yeast Rolls,
at Wednesday Night Supper;
everyone taking
a little butter-bite
out of her
cute-ass self.
I think
THAT
is why
she is so secure
with herself
today,
having learned early
to balance herself
up in the air
while crazy people
take bites
out of her.
THAT,
and the fact that
I’ve basically
traumatized her for life
with the lifestyle of freedom
that has chosen me,
so she has had to
go on her own search
for truth just
to find a balance,
some semblance of normal,
however fantasized
normal may be.
Church to me
is different than
Church to you
which is different
than Church to
Tammy Faye Bakker.
There should be
a class in elementary school
that teaches us
to be on the outside
who we are on the inside,
to shout upon the mountaintops
what is raging deep within.
So,
when I say
I GO TO CHURCH,
it doesn’t necessarily mean
a white steeple
and perfect people.
It can be anything
I goddamn want
it to be.
CHURCH can be a car,
CHURCH can be a bar.
It’s my destiny
to build my own CHURCH,
because I love the FELLOWSHIP
and I love the SPIRITS…
whatever
they may be
to whomever
may partake.
Last Call!
I mean,
Amen!
