I am touched by this shining soul who has written a piece in response to my journey of rape and forgiveness. Honestly, I feel embraced by God after reading Lona’s introspective narrative and poem — a supernatural support I suppose I’ve been seeking ever since writing about that nightmare, the maddening twelve-year healing process, and releasing it to the world; maybe even back to the fateful night itself. I, just one more lost sheep under a fractured and beautiful sky.
So much love to you, Lona Gynt.
Sometimes the very angels weep, perhaps that is what they mostly do.
Editor’s Note: (meow) This post starts pleasantly enough, but I need to warn you that it might be a trigger of sadness or anxiety for victims of abuse, assault, or rape.
Preface: Hello this is HarveyCat, Lona’s sometime Bodyguard, Conscience, Accountant, Therapist, Public Relations Coordinator, and Editor. On a late night this last week I was somewhat discomfited because Lona was about 2 hours late in delivering the usual ration of kibble. I know I give her a hard time about not rendering the proper obsequiousness to my regal presence, but she really is pretty reliable with the victuals, so even I had to turn my head away from my favorite toasty warm avian surveillance post and see what is going on with her. (This is not easy to do in the springtime, the air has been filled with…
I’m depressed. I’ve felt a surge of rejection over the past couple weeks, and what’s stupid is it all stems from the vitriolic, soul-crushing existence of social media. It’s simply embarrassing that, 1) we as a civilization have devolved to this being the “most efficient” way of communicating, when actually very little is communicated or learned; and 2) I, a pretty much against-the-mainstream, hippyish free spirit have fallen into all this must-maintain-an-online-presence nonsense. It’s hard living a life you know you’re not supposed to be living, that there’s a much better life for you, calling for you, if only… Read More
I black out in Laos w/ the Canadians and awake the next day in some tall grass next to the river w/ Amaya beside me. I can tell she’s upset and my state of mind is so twisted from the night before that I am emotionally numb. She goes right into it and tells me that she was going to leave me in the middle of the night, just get up and walk away and keep going, but Christ told her to stay and she obeyed. At this point in my life I am struggling so much w/ faith and it almost seems to my demented alcohol-soaked brain that she is using Christ to torment me, Read More
I’m cheating with this month’s selection. ‘Sunday Morning’ was written in 1966 by Lou Reed and John Cale, and performed by NYC pre-punk band, Velvet Underground. Andy Warhol suggested that Reed write a song about paranoia Read More
Or was it Tyrese? What I do know is that it is a grace of God that the memory of his name was stolen from me too. Stolen along with that Fourth of July night in Billings, the year I turned twenty-one, when he dropped a date-rape pill into my drink. There weren’t any fireworks that night.
Among the few moments of relative lucidity that night were these: Read More