Why can’t You grant the guidance so many millions plead for? Why do Your true expectations remain in the dark? What is the problem with, once and for all, putting Your foot down; pointing to any one of those revered ancient texts and declaring: “This book; this religion; this way of conducting life”—why not? Or do they all have it wrong? And if they do, why can’t You just SAY so?

Do it like George Burns did it; or, more recently, how Morgan Freedman did it with Mr. Carrey. Why not? Just lay it out so everyone can understand the way it’s supposed to be. Or, is it, now, THE way it’s supposed to be? All this killing and suffering and bullshit? You want it this way? Is it really all going according to plan?

Because I don’t know who or what to believe.

Our President prays, I’ve no doubt, for guidance—and no doubt—he firmly believes You are offering exactly that. But so do so many suicide bombers—they’re convinced You’ve given them the go-ahead. So when I ask for guidance what the fucking Hell am I to believe? ‘Cause You can’t be guiding the President and the suicide bombers at the same time—right? Somebody’s playing for the wrong team—no?

Because I dug up that old microphone in the basement so quickly, so easily—does it really mean that stand-up and/or solo performance is truly the way to go? How does one know, how can one tell, the difference between a hint dropped, and a mere coincidence; or simply reading too much into fill-in-the-blank? Because, if nothing else, I am the reigning champion of reading too much into every little thing. And, to Your amusement, I imagine, it gets me into so much trouble.

If Chuck says, as he did in this month’s Workshop Essay, read Hemingway, and, turns out, I’m already reading Hemingway, does that mean anything? Are You trying to tell me something?

God, in ways innumerable, You are so much like so many flirtatious women who’ve come and gone and time and again broken my heart…

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