An ice storm nearly ruined a book checked out of the Brooklyn Public Library yesterday. “Teachings of the Christian Mystics”, edited by Andrew Harvey, was soaked around the edge of the pages, even though the manuscript was tucked neatly inside an inner pocket of a black hoodie. The ground of New York City is like a giant root beer snowcone. Making the quarter-mile journey to the central library is treacherous.
Surely the pages will turn brown eventually, ruining this piece of public property. It is my responsibility to pay for this book, although it could be returned through a green metal return bin found outside the library’s main branch from whence this book was secured. If questions were to arise regarding the tattered condition when trying to return it to the library, a saint could reply, “It is not my fault that it got wet.” It is true. The weather was as cold as a witch’s tit. A fresh coat of slush was added to sidewalks that have not really been clean since Christmas.
Already the book has made its worth inside my cold psyche. A saying from the book of Thomas– a forbidden gospel that did not make publication within the “New York Times” of ancient, Jewish literature–
—Jesus said, “Whoever drinks from my mouth will become like me; I myself shall become that person, and the hidden things will be revealed to him.”—
There is a huge difference between drinking from one’s lips and drinking their blood.
Weather like today’s is perfect for reading, besides, there are but a few saints who frequent the back part of the sprawling library at Grand Army Plaza where 248.22 T was obtained and nearly destroyed by a careless gay nun in a black hoodie yesterday.
It seems the rain was holy water, now that I’m dry and prepare to drink from the savior’s lips. The lord works in mysterious, mystical ways, especially through literature.