I DON’T DRIVE STRAIGHT to the church.
I don’t care about the time.
I don’t care that I’m going to be pushing it to get ready.
I just can’t do it.
Instead, from Helen’s I drive to a place I have come to know well in the past several weeks. There is a ravine on the edge of Myer College, well away from the main part of the campus. It’s an area that’s kept as a kind of nature preserve, so other than the odd hiker, there’s usually no one around.
Perfect for what I do when I come here.
I grab the CD I asked Nate to burn for me a week or so ago. A collection of aggressive, loud music with violent, angry, even profane lyrics. I turn up the volume on my car radio and slide in the disk.
Within seconds, my senses are assaulted with the driving beat of drums, the clash of cymbals, the ear-pier
