Guinness Jesus Sober

If there’s anything I learned sitting on the edge of the ditch, drinking one’s self sober is an intense job. Dang, what a party for one. It’s probably best I save the sad carnage of recyclables for the memoir? Here are the *Fluffer Notes:

I lived. The End.

My Friend Jenn: song lyrics for a friend recreated NUDY

Have you ever heard the phrase consolidating one’s healing? I heard about it through a Jesus scholar, reminded of it today on Palm Sunday, the high holy feast of Christianity where Yeshua (his Aramaic name) rides in on an ass with hoards of people lining the streets waving palm leaves chanting something like Here He is! The King of the Jews!

What we don’t hear is Jesus got into royal trouble, maybe not too unlike that King of Beers fiasco, because he chose radical caste breaking by providing healing out in the open, out in public. Confronting rules of the day. I blogged for a long time (seven years) on and off and tearing it down because I longed to follow this example. My mentor is a scholar in Aramaic, in Sufism, in other esctatic texts, and his opinion of Jesus is that he was a native Middle Eastern Jew and Prophet. Big whoop, eh?

Anywho, I kept tearing my words down because I didn’t know I didn’t have the inner space to hold my healed consciousness. I kept drowning it out. So the Original Sin dogma kept sticky to my head, emotions, and body. After kicking an old peace friend to the curb just last month in February (read: fucking terrible sexual shit turned into shite aka healed shit! water into wine!), I think I stunned my psyche. Like, really, is this really over????

Manuscript FAWK writing behind the veil will document this “miracle” and I’m sure it will be dripping wet NUDY often as soon as the heart pours into words memoir-IZED with where to find this Footie Potential (a sufferer stuck in self-pity just like me for 32 years). But here’s the point —

— once the space opened in me Feb 14 and the emo-terror was cast out, I was left to deal AGAIN with this tricky self-esteem issue. Am I going forward to listen for enlightened sperm or not? Am I going to milk men for their reconciliation money or not? Am I going to call men to circle jerk redemption or not? I can’t say drinking my face off for ten days in March was of highest order for leading anything, but it led me back to the edge of the ditch. Here’s what I heard…

GUINNESS JESUS SOBER

Okay. You’ve got me. That was some really scary shite I just put myself through. Don’t know I’ve been that fucked up since those cement mixers at Erin’s Pub. I’ve had enough. THE BODY. I must make peace with this body, don’t I? There’s always something else to forgive, ain’t there? If the sex aggression don’t get you the lighting will. Gratefully NOT dead after that bender. Not sure what that really hard vein was in my extended belly, but thank you for my life and the body I’m still in. I’ll quit trying to bargin and become sober on the breath. If what you say is true, the body mind spirit is all sacred unity, then mouthbreathing enfleshed Footie Potential will be my kind of sober. I don’t mind saying penis tips to you, Yeshua. You didn’t preach hell, so I won’t tempt the grave before it’s time. I promise to drink Guinness to keep me sober, and I’ll forgive that time downing five black pints at Bob Mould. As you know, that led to eating of the old peace friend’s flesh. Um, maybe I should hold off on that pint at least until this mission foundation gets set. Thank you for your stellar, living breathing example of the Divine Feminine. Caring and kindness. May I only be kind to this body which asks me to consolidate this healing so I may give NUDY in every single way my aligned mind chooses to rock these NUDY breasts, bush, and bottom anchor. Mouthbreathing I shall, in love. Ameyn~

Post Script ~ *Fluffer Notes is our new mission substitute for CliffsNotes with fluffer denoted in high honor of the warmup. *Cement is the photo effect I gave to our blog image, with love to my self for progressing us to comics. The best I can do given my weak position crawling out of the ditch. *Enjoy our blog name Sex Nun of My Business while it lasts, part of the delay in posting was deep contemplation if I could keep that theme up on a blog and stay six feet above ground. The result? Sex Nun is here to stay but her prayer cell must go elsewhere. Like our future comic! Blog name changes on Thursday. Thxu 4 ur patience, I so appreciate you~!