But he hasn't responded to my email and today when I worked up the nerve to call him and ask him about some things I needed to know in order to file my taxes, I took a deep breath and said, "Oh--did you get my email?"
"I'm chewing on it," he said. Chewing. A rivulet of vomit worked its way up my throat. The image of some rapacious monster devouring a village, Marie Antoinette and her cake, greedy bankers and fund managers and people reduced to beggars, people who need really need basic things just to stay alive plopped from my mind right into the pit of my stomach. What I am involved in with this man I once loved makes me sick.
Chewing. I can't stop thinking about it. The animal caught in a trap gnawing off its leg. The cow with its chambered stomach senseless in its pasture.
I think I use this blog to pray. Cyberspace, for me, conjures an image similar to heaven. Clouds streaked with the energy of people's prayers as they rise from earth seeking fulfillment.
Please. I feel dirty and greedy and I want to be clean.