Wednesday, April 11

No bourbon here. We are anointed tonight with oil, some of it from the tomb of Mary Magdalene in the holy land. Father delivers and earth-shattering sermon in his normal quiet and reserved voice. As is usually the case, I cannot really remember what he said. Am I drawn to tears out of repentance or just sentimentality? And is God merciful enough to safe us on account of our sentimentality if he should find that we were never quite able to produce repentance? Or perhaps I just need a drink. Ah, not tonight, my friend. Tonight is for other things. I go home smelling wonderful.