I read a disgusting pro-violence pro-bush pro-everything the US does, even shits smells good blog site. I won't even tell you where it is. It just reminded me of the saying: fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity. So true.

On Wednesday, Tom and I trekked up to Bronxville (which is a pretty nice place as far as suburbs go--an idealized version of Harrisonburg) for a poetry reading and info session at Sarah Lawrence. It was New Englandish, the weather, ie wet, but we slopped around campus and got lost. One of SLC's drawbacks is they have little signage. We stared at the undergrads--they looked young young young. Tom and I tried to pick out who the theatre students were, and waited to see where they went. Some entered the theatre eventually and we hooted when they did. Then we made our way to the library for the reading. The library reminded us of Tabor College's library, somewhat of EMU's--kind of 60s/70s attempt at futuristic architecture. There must've been extra funds around that time for small colleges to build libaries.

The reading was good. They were all alumni/e (sp?) of SLC, which was a heartening thing. One man had very heady works, the woman had very Mennoish poetry (you know, writing about PA, coal mines) and the last fellow was very sensual. He was the only one who read the poetry well. Not that cadence poets often get. It seemed he was the poetry, that it took over his body.

The info session was good. But I tried to ask a question by raising my hand (I can't help it) and people kept butting in on me. Finally I gave up. I'll email the admissions person later.

This woman came to the door this afternoon, asking for shower, shelter and food. Apparently she was in a abusive relationship and was recently homeless because she'd left the bastard--my words not hers. I said, I'm sorry, but we didn't have any of that. She said, yes we did. She'd been told by many people. Like I was hiding it up my sleeve or something. That if she bugged me enough I would give in. I mentioned that perhaps she had mistaken this church for the shelter across the street, called Open Door, run by nuns. She said no, it was here. And that she'd been to Open Door before and it was horrible and she's not racist, but the black men there were skanky. I didn't know what to say to that. She asked me what the hell did we do here if we didn't run a shelter and I listed the things we did do: Head Start, ESL, Clothes Closet, Food Pantry on Saturdays, Afterschool program. I said I would get some addresses of some women's shelters for her. So I looked and got an address of a women's shelter and a list of soup kitchens. She pocketed the papers and talked for awhile. I let her talk--it sounded like things were pretty bad with her husband--and suddenly she accused me of not doing anything to help her. I pointed out that I had given her an address of a shelter and a list of places to eat. Oh, she's not going there. She'd been there and it was horrible. They were full anyway. I said I would call and find out. After several trys I finally got a living person on the phone. And she said they only took people who had lived in previous shelters. So I tried another shelter and after several dead ends (the amount of bureaurocracy at homeless shelters is amazing) and finally got an address of a women's shelter. I gave that one to her and she'd been there too and the women were horrible. Besides, they were full. I let her call them and they were not full and the guy on the phone said he would wait. I let her use the bathroom and she came out talking again that we had a shelter; several people told her. And she'd called here once and a woman had said there was one there. How long had I worked here? Long enough to know there isn't a shelter, I said. She spoke of a number she knew about called 1 800 Safe Home I should call. I asked her why she didn't say that earlier. She'd forgotten. I called the number but all I got was a busy signal. I said she should go to the shelter I'd found. She didn't want to. She wanted Safe Home. I said the other people could help her more than I could. You had to take steps. She left saying she was going to kill her husband.

What the hell are you supposed to do in a situation like that? How can one be a humane person or a Christian or whatever?

The church is across the street from the Port Authority, which is the home of basically every bus bound for this city. When I first started here, I wondered if the sound (constant sound) of the buses passing within feet of my office window would drive me insane. I don't even notice it anymore. PD (Pastor Dave) said once that he found out nearly 500,000 people go by this church in those buses and trucks and cars every 24 hours.

500,000. Full of people that I will never meet. Some of who could be dead, dying, giving birth, marrying, etc. at this moment. Stories I'll never hear of.

Rainy. Cold. I'm bored. As good as this job has been, it's definately in a slump right now. I've only been here for an hour, and already I'm done with the stuff I planned to do. I don't think my boss, Pastor Dave, knows what to do with me. He's kind of a control-freak. Not like he's mean about it or anything, but it doesn't cross his mind to delegate. Though he is improving. I don't know if I'm supposed to come to his office every time I finish things, or what. Yesterday he came in my office and said, "What are we going to do to keep you busy?" In my fluster and guilt about it I began asking him some real, but small questions, and he got distracted answering them and then he started talking to someone else and that was the end of it...I stood around, waiting for them to finish, but finally I walked away.

But on the positive side, the trees are blooming outside of the church. It will be like an archway of leaves when summer comes.

I walked the Pax Christi Way of the Cross on Good Friday. For the uninitiated, it's a modern Via Dolorosa, or the way of the rose (Christ), which use the Stations of the Cross to address humanitarian issues, like lack of health care, starvation in the midst of plenty, etc. Definately better than Mel Gibson's Passion. Different Pax Christi groups did each station--the Mennonite did a station (the resurrection) with the Methodists. It was really good. Great weather, a good crowd, a lot of good stations, although some went a little long-winded. Here's part of our station. I don't have Bryan's (pastor of the Methodist church) reflection, but the scripture and the prayer I wrote:

Pax Christi Metro New York
Good Friday Observance

Station: #15 The Resurrection
Leaders: Washington Square UMC and the Mennonites
Location: 42nd Street between 8th and 9th
Theme: Gift of Resurrection: Transformation

Scripture: Matthew 27:62 – 28:8

The next day, that is, after the day of Preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate and said, ‘Sir, we remember what that impostor said while he was still alive, “After three days I will rise again.” Therefore command that the tomb be made secure until the third day; otherwise his disciples may go and steal him away, and tell the people, “He has been raised from the dead”, and the last deception would be worse than the first.’ Pilate said to them, ‘You have a guard of soldiers; go, make it as secure as you can.’ So they went with the guard and made the tomb secure by sealing the stone.

After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, “He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.” This is my message for you.’ So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples.

Prayers of the Faithful:

Watch! Wait! The day of God is at hand! The plans of those who prefer ruin to resurrection have been foiled by the power of justice.

Like the bud on a tree, God’s possibilities are about to blossom!

The day of God is at hand! It is not in some far-off time or place, but in the here and now. As Christ cast the stone of death aside and breathed life, we must cast our stones aside and breathe life.

Like the bud on a tree, God’s possibilities are about to blossom!

The day of God is at hand! We must cast aside the stones of hate, judgment, degradation of our brothers and sisters, mass-consumption and destruction of our planet and the people who live upon it. Like the women who were the first to run to share the good news, let us be ready to do the same.

Like the bud on a tree, God’s possibilities are about to blossom!

The day of Transformation is at hand! The mighty wind has blown; the mantle of darkness is torn away. In the daylight, let us grab the hand of the Christ of compassion, the Christ of love and the Christ of peace. Let us build the upside-down kin-dom spiritually and physically. The bud has blossomed. Christ is risen!

Christ is risen indeed!

I received my rejection letter from Columbia on Friday, which was no big surprise. (And somewhat a relief--would or should I turn down COLUMBIA and go to SLC?) But it was the nicest rejection of the three I'd gotten. It was four paragraphs long--and large paragraphs. Brooklyn was only two short and New School was two and a sentence. Which is better than some places, I've heard. A friend got a postcard--a postcard! At least the other schools took the time and money to send a letter. The Columbia letter said things about the large number of applicants (which could just be a way to soften the blow, although I've heard there are a lot more people turning to grad school because of the economic slump--one good thing out of GWB's administration, I would guess), and the fact that arts-related fields are very subjective when one is choosing students. Which was a lot nicer than BC's statement: "Your submission was not the strongest." Never mind they'd taken a little more than a week to decide no and then when I applied to the English MA program, took less than a week to say yes. Not that I don't think I am a brilliant English candidate, but for God's sake, let the ink dry on the application.

I realize as I write this that my opinions of NS and BC are very subjective as well--it would be a different story if I'd gotten in. Well, maybe not NS. They were snobby from the start.

But I'm an artist, dammit, I can be as subjective as I want! :)

I took the plunge the other day and sent in my registration form with the 150 for SLC. I'm going to start classes in the fall. Good heavens, what the hell am I doing? I'm going into huge debt to get a degree that won't necessarily bring in much money. Oh well, you only live once.