The last time I went to confession was in 1989. I was still a Catholic. I told the kind priest that I had committed a plethora of sins and that I didn't regret 99% of them. He laughed and told me: Come here, my child.
(Mactans wrote my name on the confession list. I won't clip the "cute" mantelito.)
This is my confession:
1. I'm a Muslim in the mornings, but I don't pray to Allah. Walk with me at sunrise and you'll see what I mean.
2. I'm the "family Christmas asshole." My intolerance for hypocrisy gets me in trouble every year.
3. I wish philosophy were my porn and poetry my bread and butter.
4. In my next life I want to be the sound of a jarana and the zapateado on a tarima.
5. I suffer from panic attacks when I drive on those California highways. Strangely, I can drive around the city without problems. I refuse to take drugs for my panic attacks.
6. I stopped writing years ago because I had nothing to say, and when I did have something to say, I said it with my middle finger.
7. I was a homeless person in Los Angeles/Long Beach area many years ago. The strange voice of this singer (from Smithsonian Folkways) reminded of those nights without a bed.
I am Muslim in the morning, but I don't pray to Allah.
Soy una taza, ¡un cucharón!
1 day ago