Arizona Journal, Day 6

Today I went to this really old church. That's a picture of it above--Mission San Xavier del Bac. It must have been older than my dad! It had statues of a bunch of gay-looking people and the paintings looked like the artist just dropped Ecstasy. I'd rather have gone to the mall, but at least it was free.

Not really. Inside, the ornamentation is multiform, profuse, exuberant. The walls and ceiling are larded with bright sculptures of saints. Outside, the church is immaculately white. A Native American family--the church is on the Tohono O'odham Res--sold me fry bread. It's like funnel cake--dough dropped in fat and deep-fried, then slathered in cinnamon sugar or refried beans. Some scruffy dogs circled and begged scraps.

A British couple stood in front of a statue of a saint clad in Native garb.

She: I have no idea who she is.
He: Local girl who made good?

In other news, Woodmere, New York found me through this Google search:

My own apartment, a car, and plenty of women. And still, goddamnit, I’m lonely.*

Very noir, Woodmere. Very noir. What are you, twelve?

*This sentence does not appear in my blog.