Dangerous Compassions

if you can’t take the heat, get out of Las Vegas

I was up at 4:30am with pain from my pinched nerve.  Did some good writing for a new zine.  Said things I really wanted to say, that I never said before.

Went at 6:10am to the Catholic Worker to pray then serve the hungry.  I did bread.  My back didn’t hurt to speak of.  I didn’t have any good conversations. Gave bread as quickly as possible.  Sometimes the line was a bit long.  Sometimes people huddled instead of queuing, but not too bad.

Some people came back over and over again.  Many wanted the soft, white french bread.  Yeah, I know about them.  Their teeth are bad.

I made up an aphorism. “Once the donuts come out, no one wants the bread anymore.”  But it’s not really true.  There are still a few bread-takers.

Then I helped a friend make breakfast.  When properly buttered, even the cheapest bread makes nice toast!  I was the toastmaster.  We were using individually wrapped butter pats in the bumpy golden foil. They must have been donated.

Then we had a meeting.  Then our friend did a presentation on tiny house villages.  Wow, he knows his stuff.  He was comparing seven different villages.  I went upstairs to the prayer room, cried, and wrote two letters.  The letters were real, heartfelt, and articulate–but very sad.  I hope it’s ok.

I have a new shirt.  I don’t like it, but Ming does.  I like the rusty orange color, but it’s super long and hangs funny.

The worker at the Jolt seemed to be having a quiet crisis and / or need coffee.  Ming’s expensive coffee drink was almost all ice.  I just asked for my water bottle to be refilled, considered free books and didn’t take any, and used the bathroom.

There was a mental health textbook in Arabic I considered grabbing for a friend.  But it’s probably all mainstream claptrap.

The long list of bathroom prohibitions made me sad.  You can wash your hands there–that’s it!  No washing your feet.  No brushing your teeth.  Can’t do anything lewd.

I thought, Can you look in the mirror?  I considered writing that on the paper sign, but there were probably cameras.  They’d kick me out.  I never could return again.  That means I’d have to miss the zine fest.

I did look in the mirror.  My hair is a little grayer on the edges.  But I’m still me.

Then we made some copies.

my conclusions:

Summer is a pain in the ass.

No good books at the gay center.

A sad letter is better than nothing at all.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

6 replies on “if you can’t take the heat, get out of Las Vegas”


I looked up that coffee shop.

The other day a relative witnessed Muslim people washing their feet in sinks in a hospital. I thought it was a bit gross.

Today read about Bluetooth trackers in phones that track us everywhere. I don’t think my phone has Bluetooth but my iPad does.

What are the hungry people like?

Life is a mystery. Not sure if it’s a sacred mystery or just a mystery. Life is confusing. I am confused.

the hungry people are almost all men. some are disturbed. almost all are dirty. moods vary. some grateful, some cranky, most neutral. some easygoing about their bread, some very particular.

yeah, sometimes life seems so hard, sometimes easy.

Hi LM,

Yeah I think life can be intolerably hard. It can also be pleasant or blissful. It’s unfathomable why it is a certain way at certain points. I read this article in the NYT about novel therapy. Reading good literature to help us. I started listening to ‘The Death of Ivan Illyich’ by Tolstoy.

I really like my Smiths T shirt. When I get paid again I might get another one. Might go for ‘The Queen is Dead’ next time.

I’m struggling with media and how it doesn’t reflect real life.

Night LM

hey, I love Tolstoy. I wish I had a lot of money and could buy you some books.

media–if you don't like something abt it, you can always make your own. that's what I do. well, I guess you do too.

novels can be pretty magical. love you. x

Hi LM,

Yeah I stopped reading novels after I was put on psych drugs 20 years ago. I wonder if the psych drugs have killed off some of my imagination. Audio books are a little easier because you can let them wash over you. Didn’t know you liked Tolstoy. I like these deep thinkers. Maybe one day me and you could go to St Petersburg in Russia?? Dreams?

I love you LM.

I've had a good time with novels, but it's been a while. I really like that feeling, when you're in the book's world and just want to read read read. but it can feel like a huge commitment. giving myself to the book. an investment. I feel like it requires a lot of trust. I think to the author, why should I trust you? a poem is short and over fast, usually. a novel is long.

lm x

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