Landis, Corrine
JOURNAL ENTRY 03

I waited as long as I could for Frank to leave but had to settle for when he fell asleep. Sprawled on my couch, naked and reeking of cigarette smoke, his body a thick cabling of muscles and waxed skin. In what was once my husband's living room now lingers a wispy funk of decay. Lost time. Lost love. Lost.

Belial's newest speech loops on every news station, the images and light flickering on Frank like a projector in the darkness. Standing in my bedroom doorway, staring at the bed I once shared with my soul mate, the thought comes to my mind that I may never return to this tomb. The precursor of death tickles the back of my neck. Feels refreshing. I don't know what's left for me in the world, but I suppose I might try and find it.

A week after they turned that jail into a resort, it was overflowing with applicants and Belial was back on TV announcing plans to make it much bigger. That was the first time anyone heard him call it a church. He was looking more passionate with every broadcast. Beating scaly fists on his lectern, riling the people up more with each sentence.

"Make no mistake, my friends!" he would yell. "We are free! Free to believe in nothing. Free to accept that nothing has any deeper meaning outside of our own desires and our own destinies. If we believe in nothing, then our lack of belief becomes our belief. I believe in not believing. The ugly fingerprint of archaic religion lingers on our foreheads, and I invite each and every one of you to wipe away that black smudge. We've been living our lives for someone else! For some God we can't see, for some person who doesn't care. In the end we die without the things we wanted for ourselves and no one cares. Why? Brothers and sisters, why? Aren't we more than equipped to cast off the shackles of these ancient trappings and set the table of our own fate? Under the banner of Coprophagianity, the anti-religious religion, we can flush out that which is decrepit, superstitious and restrictive. The church is you and me. The church is America!

"America represents indulgence instead of abstinence! America represents vital existence instead of spiritual pipe dreams! America represents undefiled wisdom instead of hypocritical self-deceit! America represents kindness to those who deserve it, instead of love wasted on ingrates! America represents vengeance instead of turning the other cheek! America represents responsibility to the responsible instead of concern for psychic vampires! America represents man as just another animal, sometimes better, more often worse than those that walk on all fours, who, because of his 'divine spiritual and intellectual development,' has become the most vicious animal of all! America represents all of the so-called sins, as they all lead to physical, mental, or emotional gratification!"

I'm not sure if I'll make it into this place. Shows like Access Hollywood have been flashing paparazzi photos of Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher wearing the same hospital green outfits, waving and smiling with all the other "tenants." More and more celebrities moving in and more government funding making the place bigger each day. Everyone getting tattoos of the Ziz insignia on the inside of their wrists, the image of a serpent coiling around and devouring the shape of a man. Typically the image hovers above the script "I am the first"—the John 3:16 of Coprophagianity. They're writing their own bible out there in Los Angeles. A new bible.

For a while I allow myself to believe there's something in this apartment that I might bring with me. After a few dull moments I release this fantasy and accept that the things that once meant something to me I have all destroyed and that I have nothing to take but the clothes on my back. Even this seems inappropriate, as I am feeling more at home nude and exposed as the plague that I am.

Nevertheless, I am dressed and taking one final glance at Frank Parish, whose mouth has unhinged and is leaking collected saliva on the suede of my husband's couch. Belial's voice coming from the television: ".. .the most vicious animal of all!" The crowds cheering with each phrase. People weeping, touching their faces, having spiritual revelations.

Once outside the door I'm slightly surprised to find that it's night. I had lost all perspective of time. The air feels fresh and clean even for California, and I hate breathing it in. Walking to my car, I'm thinking: "This is my last chance."