Years ago,
I stopped a
a Babbling Crack-Head
in his tracks
with my response
to his request for money
by saying:

“No thank you,
but I appreciate you asking!”

You can still see him today
standing on the street
in front of the coffee shop,
scratching his head
wondering what the hell
THAT meant!

jajaj ajaj

It’s the same line
that I try to hit
with SISTER LOUISA ART.

I love being
a fly on the wall
at my art shows:

“Honey, is this Religious, or…?”

“I know I’m not supposed to laugh,
but..look at this one….”
followed by him
spewing a
Sangria & Laughter Smoothie
all over his friend.

People look at the art,
then over at me,
then back at the art,
OBVIOUSLY
trying to decide
if I’m crazy,
or just another
Fanatical Religious Retard.

(Being retarded, I can say THAT word)

People wonder
what I’m trying
to MAKE them believe.

I heard this robust,
PRECIOUS dopple-ganger
with her palms in the air
like Tammy Faye
used to do
on TV
screaming:
“Lord Honey, I love Jesus too, Praise the Lord!”

I saw a
tightly wound couple
spin in and out like a top,
averting their eyes
like they had seen a ghost,
him wimpishly whispering
“Let’s get out of here before lightning strikes us”
as they spun out the door!

jajjaj ajjaja

I seriously don’t give
A FLYING FUCK
what you believe.
Seriously.

Who am I
to lay my beliefs
on you?

Your response to
SISTER LOUISA ART
is about you,
not me.
It is a REFLECTION of your beliefs,
your faith,
your doubts,
and your fears,
not mine.

I’m just another
Babbling Crack-Head,
in front of the coffee shop,
scratching my head
wondering what the hell
is the meaning of all THIS!!!

Vintage Collection Jar from the Sixties.

Illusion ain’t a bad thing.

I know a good looking man
when I see one.
George Clooney will do
as a Heavenly example.
Maybe even Divine.

i consider myself a Realist,
although I’ve never
actually looked up
it’s definition,
so don’t call me out.

I know I’m no George Clooney.
I’m a hundred years old,
my face looks like shoe leather,
i inherited my dead dad’s
snapping turtle toes,
and we all know
that even with a fake ass,
I have NO ass.

Being naturally shy
and inhibited
when I first meet people,
I cower.

I used to NOT enter
events that I drove to.

Seriously,
I got there,
saw people inside
frolicking easily about,
drove around the block
and left.

TRAGIC.

One day,
about 80 years
and 80 pounds ago,
someone came up to me
in a Restaurant and said:
“You look just like Rob Lowe!”

(It may have been a bar,
and he may have been drunk)

Whatever,
THAT felt good,
and I learned a lesson.

Today,
When I walk into a room
of people that I’m don’t know,
I immediately
employ a little illusion,
and DECIDE
that
I
AM
ROB
damn
LOWE.

It works.

My humanity,
my insecurity,
my fucked-up-ness,
and my mirror,
no longer
are driving my car,
so I pull into parties,
get out,
enter with confidence,
…and GET CAUGHT MAKING A SEX TAPE!!!

jajja ajajjajaja

(I’ll save that for another day’s inspiration!)

HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE!!!
is what my friend said
across the table from me
at Lunch yesterday.

It was his response
to me saying
that SISTER LOUISA’S DAILY DEVOTIONS
are erring
on the side of LOVE.

I felt that SISTER LOUISA
was being way too sweet and squishy.

We talked about
the necessity and reality of Hate,
and proceeded to laugh uncontrollably
as we started naming
the things we HATE.

We hated this Loud Mouth Bald Headed Goob
next to our booth
making sure EVERYYYYYYONE heard
EVERYYYYYY word he said.

We therefore hated
his skinny-ass-bitch of a girlfriend
who acted like THAT was normal.

Life is just too short not to hate.

I HATE that horrific things
happen to innocent, trusting people
in the name of Religion.

It’s like Emotional & Spiritual
Bait and Switch.
Some of us are too gullible
NOT be drawn to THAT.

A Dear Friend
grew up in a Loving Family,
trusting his Parents,
who trusted their Priest.

From age 11 to 16
as a sweet and playful boy,
he found himself
The Father’s Personal Pincushion.

The Father
told my friend
that he was the Evil one
for seducing him
and making him do THAT.

My friend felt he had no choice.

I HATE HATE HATE
that Goddamned Mother-Fucking Evil Liar
for what he did to MY friend.
I hate that my friend cannot trust.
I hate that my friend’s
concept of Love
includes deceit,
mixed messages,
and abuse.

It will take more years
than he will live
to relearn
that Love
is Really Love.

I HATE that.

LOVE cannot be felt without Hate.
HOPE cannot be had without Hopelessness.
FAITH cannot be believed without Doubt.
PEACE cannot be realized without War.

Our Disdain for Evil
Strengthens our Belief in Good.

BELIEVE THE GOOD NEWS!!!,
but YA’LL CAN’T BE thinking that
Sister Louisa is all Sweet & Squishy!!!

THAT would be a Lie,
“she” has a lot of hate in “her”.

YA’LL CAN’T BE!!!

Hector,
at age 21,
knew more about Love
than I knew at 46.

He first saw True Love,
when I was being
all human and nasty
about our connection.

He knew a Loving Soulmate
when he saw one,
and our Love
continues today at THAT LEVEL.

I’ve repeatedly been known to say,
that I’m NOT gay,
and people think
I’m joking.

I am NOT joking.
I am NOT gay.
Add THAT to the things I am NOT!

I know that LOVE
is Bigger than a Towering Penis,
and more Comforting
than a Warm Vagina.

THAT is SO Human,
LOVE is SO Divine.

I recently found out
that I lost
the most
significant LOVE
of my life.

We hadn’t seen each other
in 23 years,
yet our Love
catapulted each of us
into a Truthful Existence.

Our Love was ordained by “God”,
and touched by the “Angels”,
however unfulfilled
in this world
that is was.
We didn’t have to be together
to be in Love.

We loved each other
for what we cherished in each other,
not for what we could do
for each other.

We couldn’t please each other Humanly,
yet we were pleased with Love’s Divinity.

Because it was impossible
to Manifest our Love
in this Life,
it simmers still into Eternity.

THAT love wasn’t about Pleasure,
Any two humans can do THAT.

Friction IS Friction.

Until we ALL get over the labels,
the walls between us,
the embarrassments
that our Society
shames us with,
then True Love
between all people cannot be realized,
World Peace cannot be attained.

Love Taps us on the Shoulder,
Tears well up within our eyes,
when each person,
whether Male and Female,
Male and Male,
or Female and Female,
Values each other’s Freedom,
Honors each other’s Choice,
Cherishes the Other
for what THEY need to do,
for where THEY need to go,
and how THEY need to get there.

This is some Scary Shit.
Our Role Models are Non-Existent.
This is the Love I Know and Love.

We as Lovers
must be willing
to walk into the darkness alone,
and trust that the other
is also safely walking alone
in the darkness
of their own fears.

To do this is to Let Go of Control
and allow The Universe
to do It’s Job,
like it does
with the Ocean’s shoreline.

In and out,
back and forth,
up and down,
a BIG WAVE here,
a little tremble there,
a cleansing,
a little turmoil,
a peaceful calm,
a reflection of the Light from above.

To do this is
is to have Divine
Trust and Faith.

To do this is
to be a like
a Cork on the Ocean,
and be taken away,
where Love
takes Love.

*This Devotional is in Loving Memory
of Julie Murphey Brown Welch.

and you, and him, and her, and us…

I’m Sick
of fortunate people complaining
about their lives.

Every day
I hear real stories,
from unfortunate people
who are involuntarily broke(n).

If you have a job,
and a home,
and a life you chose,
and you incessantly complain about everything,
then maybe you are
choosing to be stuck on miserable.

I don’t want to hear it.
It turns my stomach,
makes me nauseous.

It’s time to stand up
and take fucking responsibility
for where you are in life.

Employ a little Thankfulness.

Listen:

When Mary Grace was little,
having bankrupted
my entire prior existence,
I had NO MONEY.

My ARROW was pointed in a new direction >>>

I remember one Friday in particular,
I picked her up for the weekend,
we had $7.00 to last us until Monday,
with NO FOOD in the house.

I HAD TO think fast on my feet,
how to turn this painful truth
of our life,
into a simple game,
and figure out how to create
A Beautiful Life
despite our broke(n) reality.

Playfully denying this reality,
we took a bike ride together,
then skipped up to L5P
for a slice of pizza,
drank some water,
and played frisbee in the park,
then sat on our swing together
and giggled with neighbors.

We made magical memories,
and we were RICH.
.
We had $3.00 left,
for our traditional trip
to Dunkin Donuts
on Saturday morning.
She LOVED that trip together.

There Was Nothing More That I Could Do
except set out to prove that LOVE,
positive thinking,
and my hyperactive imagination
could conquer our reality.

We put on fun hats,
funky glasses,
and thrift store “costumes”,
and drove around laughing,
buying shit
(with bad checks)
at yards sales
that we could
immediately sell
to local antique stores
to make lunch money,
dinner money,
money for gas
to take her back
to her Mom’s on Sunday,
and money to deposit
on Monday
to cover the bad checks.

So Please,
Change Your Mind,
I can’t hear it
and Stay Whole.

Remember?
I am NOT a Christian.
I REALLY don’t care.

I know this is NOT Inspirational,
and I know that life is hard,
but Dig Deep,
FUCK the FEAR that’s got you paralyzed,
and Claim Your Joy Inside.

(Have I told you lately that I LOVE you?)

*This Dittie is dedicated to Claudia Thompson,
from Providence Antiques who unknowingly
saved my ass many times. I love her.

LOVE LETTERS

“Some” Southern Women
I’VE KNOWN
raise their boys
to be Pleasers,
to be Good Little Boys
who forgo their own Dreams & Aspirations
in order not to upset
their Mother’s Wishes.

My child’s Mother once told me
that I woke up
in the middle of the night,
sat up rigidly in bed,
and announced in a stern cadence:
“BE GOOD TO YOUR MAMA,
YOU’LL BE HAPPY ALL YOUR LIFE!”

It took me years to stand up
to my Mother.
I remember trembling in fear,
literally shaking,
the first time
I had to disappoint her.

As the Middle Child of Three Boys,
my role
was to keep the peace
within the family,
usually through humor,
and never did I fail at that role.

I was well trained
to place women on a pedestal,
and keep them
comfortably perched,
up THERE,
at all cost.

So,
out of 1500+ FACEBOOK Friends
who have CHOSEN to
receive updates
from SISTER LOUISA,
3 women
(whom I love)
have respectfully confided in me
that they are inconvenienced
by the presence of
SISTER LOUISA’S DAILY DITTIES.

My first instinct
was that I wasn’t pleasing Mother.
I cowered,
I trembled in fear,
literally shaking,
and proclaimed a pitiful apology
that might as well been:
“Please, Love Me Mother!”.

After much Self-Reflection,
an Inpouring of Love,
and an Enlightening Evening
with a Magical Friend,
I realized that
I was Seduced by a Fear
that I was too Coward to Fuck.

Sorry “Mother”,
I have no choice in doing
what I feel I need to do.
If it makes it too uncomfortable for you,
you can choose to un-friend me.

It’s o.k.,
I will always love you.

From Man of La Mancha:

“To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far

To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell
For a heavenly cause

And I know if I’ll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I’m laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star”
_________________________________________

Pure LOVE,
guided by the IDEALS
of this song,
transformed my life forever.

When I am conflicted
between settling for the Easy Road
and taking The Road Less Traveled,
I listen to THIS song.

By the end of the song,
I have to do the right thing.

It does make it difficult
to be in relationships,
because I BELIEVE
that the Higher Ideal
REALLY DOES take precedence
over the needs
of an individual.

I SUCK ASS at relationships,
I actually believe
that Love is a Holy Act.

I’ve been accused of being disloyal
in more than one relationship,
because I WILL CHOOSE
The Ideal
over Human Flaw.

THIS is why I Love Symbols.
THIS is why I am Addicted to Words.

Words & Symbols
POINT our Lives
in the direction
of their meanings.

IF I chose to listen to Beck’s:
I’M A LOSER BABY,
SO WHY DON’T YOU KILL ME,
I would have killed myself
years ago.

If I read murder mysteries,
you wouldn’t be alive to read this.

THIS is why I keep
a picture of JESUS by my bed,
the first thing I see upon waking.
Jesus sounds like a chill guy,
one to emulate.
Seeing HIM first thing
makes for a peaceful day.

BUDDHA on my shelf
makes ME smile.

THIS is why I have
a FUCK FEAR tattoo
circled around my wrist.
I need a DAILY reminder,
because life can be scary
when I CHOOSE Fear.

THIS is why I SAY
that I’M THE HAPPIEST MAN ALIVE,
because saying it
creates THAT reality.

Go back and read the words
of THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM,
but read them knowing that
you may end up alone,
lying peaceful and calm,
unabashedly believing
that you can reach
the unreachable star.

From the collection of Kate Pierson

I admit it,
I cannot help it,
I am eternally Sister Louisa.

In the late 1990’s,
I bought a Crack-House
that was condemned
because a tenant’s child
was therein bitten by a rat.

$10,000.00 cash bought me
the 100 year-old-rickety-shack
complete with strewn-about Crack-Lighters,
freshly stuccoed with human shit.

It was TRAGIC.

I patched the rat holes in the floor
with Religious Car Tags,
and obsessively covered furniture and mirrors
with the Crack-Lighters,
but, I needed MORE!!!

Humored at having seen me
covering these items with Lighters,
Hundreds of Hungry Crack-Heads
stood in line to sell me
their spent Crack-Lighters,
which I would buy
for a Nickel a Lighter
to use for SISTER LOUISA Art.

The Crack-Heads were instructed
to line Crack-Lighters up in pairs,
for easy counting….
10 cents, 20 cents, 30 cents…

I spent HUNDREDS of dollars.
Huge trash bags of Crack-Lighters filled my front porch.
A local economy was created!

It was unclear
whether I was feeding
THEIR Affliction of Addiction,
OR they were feeding MINE?

Ironically,
there was a Convent
in the neighborhood
with a Heavenly Wall
completely cloistering the place.

The Wall was disturbing to me
BECAUSE it precluded the Nuns
from having ANY positive interaction
with the reality
of the Life of a Crack-Head.

To process this incongruency,
I did what any creative,
obsessive-compulsive man,
posing as a Nun would do:
I neurotically covered the house,
THE JESUS HOUSE,
and the car,
THE CRACK CAR,
with Crack Lighters,
Plastic Nuns &
other tacky JESUS SHIT.

At the end of the day,
The Crack-Heads did what they had to do,
and SISTER LOUSIA did what “she” had to do,
and we understood that about each other.

One of the newly rich Crack-Heads,
skipping down the steps
of THE JESUS HOUSE
stopped,
turned back,
and whispered::

“MR. GRANT, IS YOU A SAINT?”

jaa jajaj ja

I paused,
knowing that we were
both the same,
we were both doing
what we HAD to do.

We both had the Affliction of Addiction.

This ain’t Church!

Here’s how it came about:

I was joking with
“The Congregation”
at THE LOCAL
about starting a
FACEBOOK-like Social Media Network
for Lisping-Gay-Christians
and calling it
FAITHBOOK.

Thay it for yourthelf:
FAITHBOOK.

So stereotypical and sexist,
but funny & correct.

Before I was to invest
too much time,
energy,
or money into this endeavor,
I decided to
go to “the googles”
to make sure
this was an original idea.

Well! There is a FAITHBOOK already!

Being the
Captain of the Good Ship:
“GO WITH THE FLOW”,
I looked into it,
joined under the name
SISTER LOUISA,
and posted
Assloads of images
of SISTER LOUISA ART.

I was curious about
how “FAITHBOOKers” would
respond to “her” art,
to “her” world view,
to the simultaneous
magnitude and doubt
of “her” faith.

I didn’t have to ACTUALLY start FAITHBOOK
to have my fun with it!
(I, who has seriously thought of marketing
SISTER LOUISA’S “WHERE’S YOUR FAITH?” CONDOMS
with the end bitten off of them!)

My FAITHBOOK comments
to SISTER LOUISA ART
have been primarily positive and welcoming,
but the apparent
Father of all Faithful FAITHBOOKer’s
seemed disturbed:

“you are the scum of the earth. you are one gross person. you are ruled by satan. you are probably an unsaved catholic. You must be born again. you are a real SICKO.”

Silently pleased that people were grappling
with the meaning behind “her” art,
both stunned and smiling,
SISTER LOUISA’S response
was:
“…and May Peace Be With You Also…”.

(I learned to say that in Seminary.)

jaj ajajjaja jaa ja

It IS comforting to know
that we are all the same,
we all make good and bad choices,
that even ”’Self-Professed Christians”
are imperfect.

Please join me in singing hymn #666:
WE ARE ONE IN THE SPIRIT, WE ARE ONE IN THE LAUD.

“and may peace be with you also….”

Here in the South
there is a Church
on practically every corner.

Different denominations
in different neighborhoods
for different color people
with different beliefs
worshiping different days
in different kinds on clothes,
even in different buildings!

Something’s WRONG with this picture!

Didn’t The Church get the memo
that pitting “us” against ‘them”
is destructive and divisive?

Even within most denominations
there are denominations!!

I think fucking Facebook
has more potential
as a conduit to World Peace
than the institution of The Church
in America.

At least on Facebook,
there is a “Like” button,
a “Share” button,
and we fellowship together
not tying up hard earned money
on a “goddamned” building,
depleting resources
to heat, cool,
and maintain!

Perhaps the problems of
World Hunger,
Homelessness,
and Poverty could all be solved,
worldwide,
in one fell swoop,
with a mass Fire Sale
of all that prime real estate?

Wait!
What am I saying?
I’m a tired, old
misunderstood man,
posing as a fallen Nun,
happily sitting at The Last Supper Table,
in THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING ROOM,
soliciting followers
to make money off of Religion.

Something’s WRONG with this picture!

jaja jaja ja