Rememberings

by Sinéad O'Connor

When he asked me why I loved him I said it was because he was gentle. So he said I’m to always make sure anyone I love is gentle.

I decided to smoke myself to death. Decided that I would smoke and smoke all my life, as many cigarettes as it took to send me to my mother.

We don’t even suit that word, family. It should be a comforting word. But it’s not. It’s a painful, stabbing word. Cuts the heart into pieces. And all the more because it’s too late to go back and do anything differently.

He tries to hide that he’s so beautiful because he gets beaten up for it round his neighborhood.

His eyes always brim full of gentleness when he looks at absolutely anyone. His whole heart is in his eyes at all times.

Similar to Christ’s, rap’s mission is self-esteem for those “previously deemed shit.” So it’s as dangerous as Christ’s. Because a lot of kids of all manner are listening, and no one in the industry wants their top floors threatened by either the wrong skin color or the wrong mindset—that is, anyone who cares about truth.

My intention had always been to destroy my mother’s photo of the pope. It represented lies and liars and abuse. The type of people who kept these things were devils like my mother. I never knew when or where or how I would destroy it, but destroy it I would when the right moment came. And with that in mind, I carefully brought it everywhere I lived from that day forward. Because nobody ever gave a shit about the children of Ireland.

Actually, come to think of it, there is one reason to leave America: MC Hammer’s videos. Christ Almighty.

GOSPEL OAK WAS NAMED for the London neighborhood where I was visiting a therapist six days a week. His name was Morton Schatzman, a very old Jewish psychiatrist whose dog used to sit at his feet licking its balls.

Many weirdos wander up my drive. Rarely does an angel.

Now, you know, does a bear shit in the Vatican? Of course we’d like to meet Muhammad Ali.

Although I’m always telling him he does, in fact, have a superpower: his large empathetic heart and the amount of love he has for people. Of course, he scoffs at me, saying, “You can’t save the universe with a large empathetic heart.” I disagree.

he tells me he was recently at a meeting attended by Steve Bannon. And that the Trump people had actually discussed at that meeting the idea of MAGA being MAWA. Make America White Again. He acted all disgusted when telling me. But I figured if he was really that disgusted, he’d be telling the world. That would be spiritual honesty. To risk losing all you have to save the vulnerable. To risk being called crazy and being a pariah. No. He didn’t have the balls.

This is fucking bonkers. Did not expect a chapter about Dr.Phil

The fucking shrink is a fig-eating pussy

If Trump were an Irish president or prime minister, he’d have been physically ripped out of office the day he first gave away someone’s child at any border.

He’s mentally ill. The so-called sane people are at best doing nothing and at worst enabling him. Like some giant emperor who has no clothes. Which is all he is. A lesson for the people not to be so fuckin’ nice all the time. I mean, none of the reporters ever ask him, “Sir, what is wrong with you?” Negligence. The desire to be polite, it’s killing them. And it goes on and on. No matter what he does.

She wrote this in 2020 and it's only gotten truer

Time was, Americans went out into the streets to peacefully fight for each other’s civil rights. Now none of them can even go out. What will they do with this monster when they can? History has cleverly made socialism the worst word one can ut...