To dilly-dally is divine.
My home in Sydney is right across the Royal Alfred Hospital. In my 20-minute walk to uni, I have to pass the hospital’s psychiatric wing where there’s an outdoor area for patients to smoke, drink coffee or just sit in the open. Sometimes, they cry or talk to themselves. Other times, the patients talk to each other. Then there are times when they holler at passers-by. One time, a patient yelled “how ya going” at me. I looked straight ahead and didn’t reply. She then screamed: “Motherfucker, you’re a fucking cunt, who the fuck do you think you are! Fuck you! Fuck you!” Since then, each time I’ve walked past, I can’t help but feel a sense of dread and guilt just for that split-second, and my pace tends to quicken just that little bit more.
I walked a little slower today though – the patients were having a barbeque and a couple of them were taking turns to sizzle sausages and steak in their hospital robes. It was a nice moment and it kinda made me smile the rest of the way.
In another moment, I did go to the little church across the street on Sunday evening. It was a bit sad not just because we arrived 20 minutes into Mass, but because there weren’t any hymns or singing. None at all. I mean, that's one of the best bits of church right - the hymns! As The Deer, for example, rocks. At the end of Mass, the priest had to ask us to bow our heads and pray for musically-inclined volunteers to come forward.
Later, as we were all filing out, a woman started handing out church flyers. Her arms were full of pamphlets so I asked her if she needed any help - “help” in the sense that I would generously carry the bundle of flyers while SHE passed them out to parishioners. So, OF COURSE, nothing of the sort happens. For the next 10 minutes, I stand awkwardly near where the holy water is and hand out pamphlets detailing the urgent need for Catholics to read the Bible while she scurries off to the back of the church somewhere. Irony decided to have a bit of fun there. How I was not struck by lightning is proof that God sometimes takes a cigarette break.
The next time (if ever) I go for Mass at St Joseph's in Camperdown, it will be for the 9am one, when there is a choir and lots more church helpers.
I walked a little slower today though – the patients were having a barbeque and a couple of them were taking turns to sizzle sausages and steak in their hospital robes. It was a nice moment and it kinda made me smile the rest of the way.
In another moment, I did go to the little church across the street on Sunday evening. It was a bit sad not just because we arrived 20 minutes into Mass, but because there weren’t any hymns or singing. None at all. I mean, that's one of the best bits of church right - the hymns! As The Deer, for example, rocks. At the end of Mass, the priest had to ask us to bow our heads and pray for musically-inclined volunteers to come forward.
Later, as we were all filing out, a woman started handing out church flyers. Her arms were full of pamphlets so I asked her if she needed any help - “help” in the sense that I would generously carry the bundle of flyers while SHE passed them out to parishioners. So, OF COURSE, nothing of the sort happens. For the next 10 minutes, I stand awkwardly near where the holy water is and hand out pamphlets detailing the urgent need for Catholics to read the Bible while she scurries off to the back of the church somewhere. Irony decided to have a bit of fun there. How I was not struck by lightning is proof that God sometimes takes a cigarette break.
The next time (if ever) I go for Mass at St Joseph's in Camperdown, it will be for the 9am one, when there is a choir and lots more church helpers.
Hi Dee
i may not be able to offer you an auto loan like the other guy. But i can spare you a couple of bucks for coffee and cake.
oh you poor girl! got yelled at!!!
Damn spam. eugenew: just in case, i take cheques and money-order too.
sheeny: yah lor! but then again, comparatively speaking, i think pachy's office rants were scarier haha