Whose Side?

Probably the greatest aid is to chant “Whose fucking side are you on?” and to consult my own journal. Maybe I should add that chant to my morning and evening prayers:

Whose fucking side are you on?
Whose fucking side are you on?
Whose fucking side are you on?

I mean, really, that’s the meat of it. They’re trying to reduce me to wretchedness and slavery. Am I going to collaborate?

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Real time note: I wrote this thoroughly tongue in cheek, but I found myself chanting it on my daily walks, and it has entered my standard repertory of aspiration prayers. It is the prayer against gluttony, and the gist of it is: am I to be on my own side or not? Am I going to support myself or let myself down? The swearing is not just for novelty or piquancy, but to remind myself of the intensity of frustration that originally motivated the prayer. (Apologies to anyone of my father's generation who might be actually offended by the language: as far as I know that cultural moment has departed. My father is 96 and I don't think he's reading blogs these days.)