It isn’t that the world is ending tomorrow at 6 p.m. I’m at peace with that, if it’s God’s will.
It isn’t even that I’m going to miss the ending of a movie on TCM.
I can’t get an appointment to confess!
The line for the confession booth is longer than the one for the recent Comme des Garç on sample sale!
And according to the religion I was raised in, if you don’t confess, you go to hell, honey, whereas if you do, you’re raptured to a higher berth in that great co-op in the sky!
And I desperately want to move on up!
Anyone out there ordained to give confession?
Bear in mind you have to have a whole chunk of time to listen to a whole lot of sin.
And there ain’t that much time left. Hurry!
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on May 20, 2011