Wake me up... when May ends...

Today. The day before my whole life slips out of my (capable) hands and blows away on the wind current. Sonny found us a home...at least we won't be huddled under a bridge, bathing in Lake Erie like a couple hippies. It's a four-bedroom rectory. Father Paul is our landlord and I'm crapping bricks about that. Don't get me wrong....I'm not a demon seed or anything, but I just have this thing about men (and women) of the cloth. They creep me out. I'm probably going to hell for saying this. . . but they have this aura (I guess) and a sense of self-possession and understanding that so many of us lost souls can't fathom owning. That's probably just some issue I've got to square away with myself, but I'm going to be a wreck when I meet Father Paul. I'll have to change up my language (no more shrieking "Fuck" when I drop something or "Goddamn it" if I stub my toe). Oh well...it beats the hell out of living out of Lake Erie. (Lucifer's probably circling my name in red ink right now)

I think I've had my fill of the city. My drinking gourd is half empty (I wanted to flirt with MOMA alittle more but I can't have everything) so I think I can successfully sever myself from this magical place. I've got a ton more packing to do so I'm signing off for now.

Why is change so hard?