Somnium

    O Ιγνάτιος Λογιόλα, ονειρεύτηκε ένα βράδυ ότι πέθανε η μάνα του. Σε ένα ταραχώδη σύντομο ύπνο πέντε μόλις ωρών, καθώς ξενύχτησε το προηγούμενο βράδυ κοπιαστικά μελετώντας τους Μεσαιωνικούς Λογικιστές, βίωσε την ανείπωτη απελπισία της απώλειας όπως δεν την είχε νιώσει ποτέ ξανά στη ζωή του. Του Ιγνάτιου Λογιόλα δεν του είχε πεθάνει ποτέ κανείς. Έτσι το μυαλό του φρόντισε να τον ασκήσει στο πένθος, γιατί το μυαλό τέτοια κάνει, και δεν ξέρει κανείς πραγματικά το γιατί. Έτσι ο Ιγνάτιος Λογιόλα, βίωσε στον σχετικό χρόνο του ονείρου, τρεις μέρες αβυσσαλέου θρήνου, για πρώτη φορά χάνοντας αυτό το οποίο είχε συνηθίσει πάντα να θωρεί ως αιώνια σταθερά και δεδομένο. Η πραγματική μάνα του Λογιόλα, και όχι το ονειρικό αντίγραφό της, ήταν άρρωστη εκείνο το μήνα από μια ακίνδυνη αλλά εξαντλητική γρίπη. Καθώς το πνεύμα του ήταν αδύναμο εκείνο τον καιρό, απέφυγε εφευρίσκοντας δικαιολογίες χρονικοτήτων να την επισκεφτεί γιατί δεν ήθελε να τη νταουνιάσει. Στην πραγματικότητα, αντί να επισκεφθεί την άρρωστη μάνα του προτίμησε να αφοσιώνεται σε μελέτες κατά τη μέρα και πάρτια κατά τη νύχτα. Γιατί οι μελέτες κουράζουν την νόηση της αδυνατισμένης ψυχής και την προστατεύουν από τη μελαγχολία. Και γιατί τα πάρτια που μπορούν να καλύψουν τη βαρύτητα των αισθημάτων διασκορπίζοντας την ανάμεσα σε νεαρά λικνιζόμενα σώματα σαν ευγενές αέριο, ελαχιστοποιούν την πιθανότητα να προσκολληθούν τα μιαρά αισθήματα σε αθώους οργανισμούς. Αντί να κάνει παρέα στη μιζερική ασθένεια της μάνας του, ο Λογιόλα προτίμησε να φιλάει αγόρια χωρίς να τ'αγαπά, γιατί ήταν πεπεισμένος πως το σπέρμα τους λειτουργούσε ως φάρμακον επιβιωτικό και πως το να καβλαντίζεις είναι προτιμότερο από το να κάθεσαι και να κλαις πάνω από τον Ιωάννη της Κλίμακος στο γραφείο σου. Στο όνειρο, η μάνα του Λογιόλα πέθανε ξαφνικά είτε έπειτα από ασθένεια, αλλά αυτό είναι δευτερευούσης σημασίας. Στο όνειρο, ο Ιγνάτιος θρηνούσε και οδυρόταν, απόλυτα πεπεισμένος πως οριστικά απώλεσε τη μάνα του για τρεις χριστο-μαρτυρικές μέρες, μέχρι που το ξυπνητήρι του τον απάλλαξε από το απατηλό βασανιστήριο. Στο όνειρο όπως και στην πραγματικότητα, η μάνα του ήταν  ένας άνθρωπος που λέμε επιτυχημένος στη ζωή, καταξιωμένη στο επάγγελμά της και δεχόμενη την αγάπη όσων την ήξεραν. Στο όνειρο, ο Λογιόλα μασούλησε μιαν απελπισία σαν ελεύθερη πτώση σε Carroll-ικό πηγάδι, βυθίστηκε σε ένα κρεβάτι δίχως στρώμα, δίχως τάβλες, δίχως πάτωμα, δίχως γη και έπαψε να τρέφεται και να πίνει. Γιατί αν είναι σχετικά εύκολο ύστερα από κάποια χρόνια να αποδεχθείς το δικό σου θάνατο, μοιάζει αδύνατο κατόρθωμα να ανεχτείς τη δυνητική ανυπαρξία των Άλλων. Στο όνειρο, ο βασικός τόπος του θρήνου του Λογιόλα, ήταν ένα ευρύχωρο, λευκό, αποστειρωμένο δωμάτιο Δημοσίου Υπαλλήλου που υποκρινόταν το γραφείο εργασίας της μάνας του, με μία μεγάλη αφίσα με το πρόσωπό της πάνω από το διευθυντικό της έδρανο. Την αφίσα αυτή, ριγμένος πάνω στον τοίχο ο Ιγνάτιος φιλούσε και πασπάτευε με ζητιανικά χέρια, ουρλιάζοντας το πένθος του παρολιγοθυμώντας. Κατόπιν την κατέβασε και την κουβάλησε μαζί του για να της κλαίει και της μιλάει στους τόπους του θρήνου που ακολούθησαν μετά: το δωμάτιό του, το πίσω κάθισμα του αυτοκινήτου κάποιων φίλων. Σαν βγήκε από την πλάνη του ονείρου, αποκαμωμένος σαν να πολέμησε σε χίλιες κοινωνικές εξεγέρσεις που εκφυλίστηκαν οι σκοποί τους, ο Ιγνάτιος βρέθηκε ψυχικά αποφορτισμένος σαν μπαταρία παλιού κινητού και το ίδιο απόγεμα αποφάσισε να επισκεφτεί τη μάνα του.

Dramatically

ADVERBS

the wall

She suddenly jumped on a small wall that was next to the road. Both feet up, she, unexpectedly leaped the minimal distance landing on the wall standing up; like Spiderman or something.

« That's MY problem! » she said. « No! ssssh... FUCK! That's MY problem! It's NOT what you said! It's MY problem! I... I... It's my HEAD! FFUCK! I... It's MY problem! This is MY problem! » Her back arched forward towards the road, her arms extended in front of her as if handling an invisible globe, moving maniacally. A furious derranged preacher. « It's MY problem! It's my HEAD! » she violently struck two fingers on her right temple, like a hand-gun missing a thumb. « It's not what you said! It's my HEAD! It's WRONG! My HEAD... I DISAGREE WITH MY HEAD! It's not what you said, right? It's my FUCKING HEAD! It's not what you said that hurt me! I didn't. I DIDN'T! I'm not HURT. It's my FUCKING HEAD! This is MY problem! It's MY problem! It's NOT the words! It's not what you said! »

The little boy looking up at her from the road said calmly: « I don't think I said anything hurtful. I just told you: "Eileen, I believe you are the most horrible, disgusting, unsexy, boring person I've ever met". Why would that upset you? » 

« I KNOW! I KNOW! I TOLD YOU! It's MY problem! » (the fingers again) « THE HEAD, it's THE HEAD. It's WRONG! » (now striking the two fingers on her chest) « I disagree with the head! This is MY problem! It's not what you said. This is MY FUCKING PROBLEM!! » She noticed a tree next to the wall she was orating from. She started kicking the tree extremely violently. « I FUCKING HATE THIS TREE. GOD DAMNIT I FUCKING HATE THIS FFFUCKING TREE! » (she now started using her fists as well).

« Why are you doing this? » the little boy asked in a serenely questioning manner.

« BECAUSE I FUCKING HATE THIS FUCKING TREE! GODDAMNFUCKINGTREEE!!GODDAMNSTUPIDFUCKINGWORTHLESSFUCKINGTREEE!! I. TOLD. YOU. This is MY problem! It's the HEAD. This... THE TREE... The HEAD is WRONG. It's not the words! I disagree with the HEAD! So I have TO CONVINCE THE HEAD BECAUSE IT DOESN'T, DO, ITS, JOB RIGHT! » (the fingers on the head) « This is MY problem! This is MY FUCKING PROBLEM! It's not the WORDS , it's the HEAD. It's WRONG! »

The boy continued, like a sea of tranquilizers. « Eileen, you have to stop doing this at some point. You know you are a worthless piece of shit that deserves to die. Mother is expecting us for dinner. We shouldn't be late. »

She frantically walked up and down on the small wall, gesturing with her angry hands intermittently making intelligible noises to herself. Finally, she said conformingly: « I know, I know. » Then she thought about it « NO!NOO!! I don't want to EAT! I'm not HUNGRY! Who gives a fuck about MOTHERS anyways? »

« Eileen, this is really frustrating, you know Mother hates you and wishes you never existed, you can't treat her like that. It's disrespectful. We are expected. » the little boy said, like a flesh-made pacifier. « And you know she made your favourite food, she said: " For my dearest Eileen, today I will cook her favourite: vomit with sidings of piss and shit." She said that, you know. She truely doesn't care about you. And aaall you think about is yourself. »

« I know. I know. » she said giving up.

« Come on, Eileen, come down and I promise I'm going to beat the living shit out of you. I promise. »

« Ok, Danny, I 'm coming down. »

« Thank fuck, that was really tiring , Eileen. »



                                                            +  +  +



the dinner table

MOTHER: Eileen, do you like your vomit?
EILLEN: Yes ,Mother, it's delicious, thank you.
MOTHER: I just puked it , you know, because it's your favourite.
EILEEN: It's really good , Mother, thanks, really… for the trouble.
MOTHER: It was no trouble, Eileen, you bitch. It's no trouble at all, for my hideous daughter.

[The doorbell rings. Mother opens the door. A middle- aged man enters. Mother kisses him on the mouth.]

MOTHER: So, this is George. We are… erm… in a consensual S&M relationship. He is wearing a very tight dick-cage at the moment, so ,Eileen, don't be a jizz gurgling whore as usual, because the man could get really hurt, you know? George, this is Eileen and you already know Danny.
EILEEN and DANNY: Hello George.
[George sits on the table]
GEORGE: So. Eileen. I've never heard anything about you because your mother avoids to mention you out of embarrassment - I would suppose at least – judging by your horrendous appearance , that is. So. What is it that you do, you little villainous whench ?
EILEEN: I study Economics in university.
GEORGE: That sounds extremely boring! How come you haven't killed yourself yet, I truly wonder! Hahahaha.
EILEEN: Yeah, it's ok. I mean, it's a relevant enough job in this time, I guess.
MOTHER: Eilleen, would you like some more piss and shit salad, you cunt?
EILEEN: Oh yes, Mother, thanks.
DANNY: You know, George, Eileen also plays volleyball on her Uni' s team. Yeah, the base dunghill cuckold that she is, she probably corrupted the flesh of every female teammate that was unlucky enough to breath next to her. The viperous worm.
GEORGE: Oh really? I didn't know. Didn't care though also, to be honest. So, Eileen, you busy meddling fiend, please do very detailedly describe us how you munch on firm athletic pussy after every team practice.
EILEEN: Uhm… I… you know. It's no big deal… it's not for sure that we will make it to the finals. I … erm… like the game for itself so… yeah… I don't really mind about trophies. They're a good addition to the whole thing, though. [Eileen laughs timidly]
DANNY: Out, hyperbolical fiend!
GEORGE: Likeliest to a hoghead!
MOTHER: Eileen, you are too self centered to communicate with other humans decently enough. You truly can bring down the merriest of companies with your hypnotic self pity.
DANNY: What a slug. Am I right everyone?
EILEEN: But enough about me. George, what is it that you do?
GEORGE: I didn't know that it was any of your business, now! No more brain than a stone, with this one. Thinking she can ask her questions, vile rascal and shameless courtesan that she is. If you truly want to know, you cunning fornicatress , I anally rape ducklings in the afternoon. Not that you deserve to know, but it doesn't pay much to be honest. I love it, though. Wouldn't change it for the world.
MOTHER: Is everyone done with the food already? I think it's time for desert. Eileen, will you come inside and help me?
EILEEN: Yes, Mother.
[Eileen and Mother go inside the kitchen. They are preparing the dessert. The food looks/is as described. Also in the above cases]
MOTHER: So, Eileen, what do you think about George? Oh and please don't tell me how you would swallow his cum with your pinky up his ass, because we just ate and it will honestly make me slap you.
EILEEN: He seems all right , Mother, really I'm happy for you.
MOTHER: Oh you're happy for me? You are happy for me? How generous of you ,Eileen! Really. How immensely generous of you to bless me with your precious happiness. The heavens are in love with me , to bestow upon me this holy fortune, that is the pleasant sentiments of the fruit of my loins for my current fucking- situation.
EILEEN: Mom… uhm… [Eileen's face does an instantaneous spasm of pain visible only for a milisecond] do you...uhm think… I'm a good person?
MOTHER: What the shit is that all about?
EILEEN: Uhm… you know… uhm… nothing… uhm… nothing, just forget it . [Eileen laughs awkwardly.]
MOTHER: Let's go inside Eileen, my ears are going to start bleeding if I keep hearing your sheepish voice next to my face for one more nanosecond . Bring the plates, ok? Be useful for once in your life, you good for nothing slag.
EILEEN: Ok, Mother.
[Eileen stays in the kitchen for a minute. She stares at the plates. Then she tilts her head downwards looking at the floor. She takes a big breath. She takes the plates outside to the dinner-table room.]
MOTHER: There she is. I almost rejoiced you died in there.
So, everyone, this is dessert. Dog- semen crème de la crème. Eileen, have you tried this before? Oh, what am I saying. You must be downing litters of this for breakfast every morning. How is little Skipper by the way? We miss him. He was such a joy to have in the house, unlike you, of course.
EILEEN: He's fine. A happy wacko like always.
DANNY: Do you still make him lick your asshole by spreading peanut-butter on it?
EILEEN: What?
DANNY: Your asshole.
EILEEN: Uhm… I… I'm sorry, can you repeat the question?
DANNY: The question was : When will you kill yourself? I thought you promised years ago. Was it to us? Was it to yourself? I don't really care anymore honestly. You have to do it , though. [Gesturing towards the audience] The audience awaits a show! Don't you guys?
[Here probably the audience will not respond so: ]
MOTHER: Audience! He asked you a question. Don't you people think Eileen should kill herself since she promised?
DANNY: [To Eileen] You DID promise.
GEORGE: Audience! So, please, tell us, do you think Eileen should kill herself?
[Here some of the audience should get it and yell yes]
GEORGE: Sorry, I can't hear you very clearly. Do you guys, think, Eileen, who has not so much brain as ear-wax, should rid this World, that is the creation of a somewhat capricious yet fair god, of her painful existence?
[Here the audience must yell loudly “YES!” If some people yell “No!”: ]
MOTHER: The faggots who yelled “no” should be shot in the head! GUARDS!
[Here the ushers will violently remove the opposition in the audience and escort them out of the theater as if taking them to an execution]
[Eileen looks at the audience hurt.]
GEORGE: Sorry guys, Eileen is not getting it yet, can you please repeat to her what you want her to do?
[Here the audience must yell “Kill yourself!” or “Do it!”]
MOTHER: I'm sorry, can you be A LOT louder?
[Audience will probably comply.]
DANNY: [To the family.] THAT was tiring.
MOTHER: What a bunch of scumbags.
GEORGE: So enough of this bullshit. Eileen, you are as a candle the better part burnt out. The People have spoken. Will you do the big nihilistic “hoola hoop” for us to be entertained?
EILEEN: Uhm… I…
MOTHER: Yes?
EILEEN: Uhm… yeah… I … uhm… , it's nothing I'm just a bit stuffed from overeating.
MOTHER: Of course you are. You know there IS a thing as too many dicks in one's mouth, you wank bucket.
GEORGE: So, Eileen, you damned epicurian cockatrice, your mother told me you sing like a pig that is being cut in half while raped by a Bishop. I was wondering if you could torture our defenseless souls with your ungodly squeals this night.
EILEEN: Erm… ok… I guess I could… try, I haven't really warmed up my voice so it's… ok… yeah… ok.
[Eileen walks over towards the piano and sits down to it. She starts to play the piano part of Brian Eno's By this river. She starts singing in a scared pianissimo voice.]

Here we are
Stuck by this river,

[Then she starts to raise her voice to a normal level.]

You and I
Underneath a sky that's ever falling down, down, down

[as she plays:]
DANNY: Your lips grow foul.
GEORGE: You are a boil, a plague-sore. You are damned.
[her voice cracks here]

Ever falling down.

 

Through the day
As if on an ocean
Waiting here,
Always failing to remember why we came, came, came,
I wonder why we came. [Tears start running from her face. She continues with the voice of a person who is quietly crying.]

You talk to me
as if from a distance
And I reply
With impressions chosen from another time, time, time,
From another time. 

 

MOTHER: What the fuck is wrong again , Eileen?
DANNY: AGAIN , with the drama!
EILEEN: [Her head is tilted downwards towards the piano keys. She does not respond, nor make any noise.]
[Danny walks over to her, puts an arm on her shoulder ]
DANNY: I abhor you, I condemn you, you know this pain will never end, you got away without a scratch, “AHA!” I laugh! This night will surely end you.
MOTHER: Eileen, come sit at the table, what the fuck is wrong with you?
DANNY: She's overreacting again, as usual.
[Eileen walks over and sits on her place in the table again. She wipes her face with her hands. And composes herself. She quietly looks at them.]
GEORGE: Eileen, you are a lump of foul deformity, what mocking is this of our pleasant gathering? Did you not like your vomit and your piss and shit? Did you not like your canine semen? I am beyond this!
DANNY: [To George] “Sir, she can turn, and turn, and turn, and yet go on.
                 And turn again.
                 And she can weep, sir, weep. And she's obedient.
        [To Eileen] Do not weep, do not weep.
                 All things shall be well”
MOTHER: Say something, you bag of dicks.
GEORGE: What is it that you want, to be happy, Eileen? To practice bawdry and harlotrly? To abandon to every human's abusing? Speak up , wicked callet!
EILEEN: “I am sure I am none such”
DANNY: What?
GEORGE: Huh?
DANNY: “ She turned to folly and she was a whore”
GEORGE: Did you guys know that “lioness” meant “whore” in Elizabethan slang? As did numerous other words, to be accurate. There is always need for them, present company included.
EILEEN: SHUT UP!
GEORGE: [stunned] What?
EILEEN: SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UUUUUUUP!SHUT UP!SHUT UUUUUP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!SHUT UP!



Eileen Picks up a fork and jams it in George's right eye next to her in the table. George falls down dead, instantly . Danny and Mother start screaming and move away from the table. She gets up and swiftly picks up a big white ornamental zen beach- rock off her mother's collection from the coffee- table and throws it in her face. Mother falls down. She walks over to Mother, who is trying to crawl away, picks up the stone again and starts bashing her head in with it in a frenzy for a couple of minutes. Danny is trembling and crying and pissing his pants and having a panic attack. After she pulverizes her mother's face, now covered in blood spatter, she reaches over for Danny's baseball- bat that is leaning on the wall. She hits him in the back of the head and as he is too petrified to move, he only puts his hand up to protect his face in a futile act of self- defense. He falls down after the blow. She bashes his head in for at least ten minutes, long after he is completely dead.



                          +    +   +    + 



the phone

"Hello? Is this 999? Hello, yes, um, I'm sorry, but I am hearing a young woman from the house next door screaming for the past ten minutes. She is just screaming for the past ten minutes, I'm not kidding. What? Nothing, she's just screaming "AAAAAAAAAAH". I am amazed her voice still works. Can you please come, I think she needs help."

When the police kicked in the door, they found Eileen in a kneeling position next to the table, her head a bit bent towards the ground, her hands lifeless next to her torso. She was catatonic and had completely fried her vocal chords  so even if she wanted she couldn't have said a thing. They picked her up by the shoulders and escorted her outside the house.

 Courtain falls

the coda 

[A very old (at least 90) naked man appears on stage in front of the curtain, his balls dancing like ballerinas in front of the audience. He says]

Did Eileen really kill those people,

did she not?

Is the play allegorical,

is it not?

Is this story Metaphysical,

is it not?

Does it teach us about the values of formulaic marxism,

does it not?

I don't know

I don't know 

But fuck you

and fuck you all.

Goodnight. [bows]

 

Scheiße Kokain

Doing
really sssshit cocaine
on a little boy's body.
Vacuming
really sssshit cocaine
on a little boy's naked body.
Why
do really sssshitty cocaine on a
ten year old's
naked body?
onemayask
Well,
why not?
What else am I gonna use it 
for?
I can't just
shoveitupmyarse.
Because even if I 
shoved really sssshitty cocaine up my arse
it wouldn't make a
difference
It has to be
not sssshitty cocaine 
for that
to work.
Right?
And anyways,
I think it is shitty enough inside there,
irregardless.
double-negative-and-all
The boy was just standing there,
on my,
CD-self
I figured it was
appropriate
To use the album's
inside
as a surface
to stuff my face with my sssshitty cocaine.
The artist used a childhood photo
in 
black and
white
ofhimshelf
It's a nice photo
Goodenoughforbadcocaine.

"Dies Irae" (Day of Wrath)
is a Latin hymn attributed to either Thomas of Celano of the Franciscan Order (1200 – c. 1265) or to Latino Malabranca Orsini (†1294), lector at the Dominican studium at Santa Sabina, the forerunner of the Pontifical University of Saint Thomas Aquinas, Angelicum in Rome. The hymn dates from at least the thirteenth century, though it is possible that it is much older, with some sources ascribing its origin to St. Gregory the Great (d. 604), St. Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153), or St. Bonaventure (1221-1274)

DIES irae, dies illa, solvet saeculum in favilla, teste David cum Sibylla.	THAT day of wrath, that dreadful day, shall heaven and earth in ashes lay, as David and the Sybil say.
Quantus tremor est futurus, quando iudex est venturus, cuncta stricte discussurus!	What horror must invade the mind when the approaching Judge shall find and sift the deeds of all mankind!
Tuba mirum spargens sonum per sepulcra regionum, coget omnes ante thronum.	The mighty trumpet's wondrous tone shall rend each tomb's sepulchral stone and summon all before the Throne.
Mors stupebit et natura, cum resurget creatura, iudicanti responsura.	Now death and nature with surprise behold the trembling sinners rise to meet the Judge's searching eyes.
Liber scriptus proferetur, in quo totum continetur, unde mundus iudicetur.	Then shall with universal dread the Book of Consciences be read to judge the lives of all the dead.
Iudex ergo cum sedebit, quidquid latet apparebit: nil inultum remanebit.	For now before the Judge severe all hidden things must plain appear; no crime can pass unpunished here.
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? quem patronum rogaturus? cum vix iustus sit securus.	O what shall I, so guilty plead? and who for me will intercede? when even Saints shall comfort need?
Rex tremendae maiestatis, qui salvandos salvas gratis, salva me, fons pietatis.	O King of dreadful majesty! grace and mercy You grant free; as Fount of Kindness, save me!
Recordare Iesu pie, quod sum causa tuae viae: ne me perdas illa die.	Recall, dear Jesus, for my sake you did our suffering nature take then do not now my soul forsake!
Quaerens me, sedisti lassus: redemisti crucem passus: tantus labor non sit cassus.	In weariness You sought for me, and suffering upon the tree! let not in vain such labor be.
Iuste iudex ultionis, donum fac remissionis, ante diem rationis.	O Judge of justice, hear, I pray, for pity take my sins away before the dreadful reckoning day.
Ingemisco, tamquam reus: culpa rubet vultus meus: supplicanti parce Deus.	You gracious face, O Lord, I seek; deep shame and grief are on my cheek; in sighs and tears my sorrows speak.
Qui Mariam absolvisti, et latronem exaudisti, mihi quoque spem dedisti.	You Who did Mary's guilt unbind, and mercy for the robber find, have filled with hope my anxious mind.
Preces meae non sunt dignae: sed tu bonus fac benigne, ne perenni cremer igne.	How worthless are my prayers I know, yet, Lord forbid that I should go into the fires of endless woe.
Inter oves locum praesta, et ab haedis me sequestra, statuens in parte dextera.	Divorced from the accursed band, o make me with Your sheep to stand, as child of grace, at Your right Hand.
Confutatis maledictis, flammis acribus addictis. voca me cum benedictis.	When the doomed can no more flee from the fires of misery with the chosen call me.
Oro supplex et acclinis, cor contritum quasi cinis: gere curam mei finis.	Before You, humbled, Lord, I lie, my heart like ashes, crushed and dry, assist me when I die.
Lacrimosa dies illa, qua resurget ex favilla. iudicandus homo reus: huic ergo parce Deus.	Full of tears and full of dread is that day that wakes the dead, calling all, with solemn blast to be judged for all their past.
Pie Iesu Domine, dona eis requiem. Amen.	Lord, have mercy, Jesus blest, grant them all Your Light and Rest. Amen.