Wishing You (Frère Jacques)

Blessings on this day
Of your wedding,
When two become one
As partners
For a silent moment
(In this world of sorrow)
Under the sun.

Go West, but look East,
For the sun is rising.
The world is turning
Faster . . . faster . . . faster . . .
Relax and feel the breeze.

Forget the piper's piping
And hear the song of
The morning birds calling.
The sparrows are chattering.
Ring the Matins, Brother John.

We are waiting.

A Wedding Poem by Julian Moore

My Father told me to write a card for my cousin's wedding which is this Saturday, August 31st. So I wrote this poem to put on the card. It just came out as thoughts like sweat from your pores when you run too fast in the summer sun. My father did not like the word "sorrow" in the poem. He said it was a good poem except for that one word. But I am of sorrow. I couldn't find a word to replace "sorrow" so I changed the line to "For a silent moment" but I included (In this world of sorrow). It is either / or; both lines are not meant to be read together. 

Kate (or is it Katie?)

When I was young and sleeping I thought the most beautiful girl I had ever seen was a girl from South Africa named Katie. She had turquoise eyes and went from man to man to man, claiming them as her own. By now she must have a thousand pelts. She may be dead now, or she may have converted. First she slept with my roommate Jason. Then she went with my other roommate Goeff and became the love of his life. Certainly the most beautiful girl he had ever been with as she probably was for most of her lovers. She once told me that Geoff was like "a big oak tree". But she must have found a redwood because she left him after a short while. I never forgot Katie, though I wish I remembered her last name.

But then there was Kate. She was mine. I had a crush on her. I met her in psychology class. She would go around campus on roller-skates and went to raves and took ecstasy and talked about how great fun it was. After class one day she invited me to go look at the snails. It had rained and we went to the garden on campus and looked at all the snails crawling from the plants to the stone steps. They were beautiful but I noticed mostly Kate. One day after class she invited me to her boyfriend's house for perhaps the most boring few hours of my life. She was with her boyfriend, they were smoking weed without me and people were playing the Tony Hawk video game. When I had my turn I didn't know how to play and got zero points in my session. Somehow I got home. Kate drove me.

But the story is years later. Kate still remembered me as she remembers all of the boys in her life. She was in a theater group and my roommate Goeff was making a documentary about the play they were performing. The Serpent by Jean-Claude van Itallie. Kate was surprised that I had started smoking cigarettes. She smoked also. I guess I was supposed to be innocent. We had a party for the cast and our roommates and we drunk and at the end of the party Jason was complaining because Kate and another actress would not leave the apartment but also would not have sex with him.

She told me about the play which was a mock of the Garden of Eden and the Kennedy Assassination. Avante-garde I guess it was. She told me at one point all of the girls on stage would be dancing with apples and they would go to the crowd and give the apples to a member of the crowd and we were supposed to eat the apples and she asked if she could give the apple to me. We attended the performance. She danced like Salome and she handed me the apple and I bit and then all of the girl who were dancing pointed at us and laughed and laughed and laughed and not knowing what to do, I continued eating the apple. I don't remember what I did with the core. Was there a garbage can? After that night I never saw her again. Kate, not Katie. Katie was more beautiful, but Kate was mine.

I wonder how many times I sold my soul to the devil? One does not really know until the last judgment. Perhaps a million times.

The Wrong Side of the Tracks

My afternoon walk is typically on the wrong side of the tracks. The tracks being the El on Jamaica Avenue. I took photos this time. The first picture is of a flower bed. My neighbor is growing the same kinds of wildflowers that I am growing. But he is tending them and weeding them and my mother does not allow me to do those things, I don't know why. So my garden is surviving on prayer and water alone, with no gardening.

I saw something interesting. Ice cream cones on the sidewalk with crackers. It was near a truck for Wise snacks on the street. I thought it was so interesting I took a picture. I guess it is for the birds.

There are two auto repair shops on Liberty Avenue. My Father used to take the car to Chris and Charlie but now he takes it to Dorgler. If you look you can see they both have the same sign with a picture of a bear.

A fuchsia flower growing on the wrong side of the tracks, in front of the house, near the road, next to a tree.

Near the end of the walk, I saw a diorama outside. There were little buildings. I took a picture. There was a drunken gnome and an angel. The man outside said his sister ruined it and I told him it was beautiful and thanked him for letting me look at it and he said sure. He was happy that I was looking at his artwork.

And the last picture is the worst. The flies like these flowers. I don't like flies. But I see them everywhere. The other day there was a fly in my room on a napkin and he was so tired that he could not move and I caught him with the napkin, brought him downstairs and threw him in the garbage and threw him away. It was only one, not seven. But I don't like flies in the house, nor moths, nor water bugs.

My dad is kind enough to let me take pictures with his camera. I hope you enjoy this photo essay about the wrong side of tracks, the part of Richmond Hill South of Jamaica Avenue and the J train.

Fire Island

My family and I visited my uncle Harry's beach house at Fire Island. It is in the village of Saltaire. It was a great trip. We went on a ferry ride had a steak dinner and had friends over and we went to the yacht club where a girl was singing pop songs. I was not a fan of the music but the singer was very talented. I thought she was a seductress. Dinner was great. I prepared corn and together with my mom we made a salad. And Harry grilled the steaks. When dinner came around there was an extra piece of corn. We thought there were four whole pieces of corn and two half-pieces, but it turned out there were five whole pieces of corn and two half-pieces. And my cousin Sarah said it was like the multiplication of fishes after the Sermon on the Mount. I clearly remember there being five corns because we threw the sixth one away because it was rotten. But when it came time to eat there were six. Bless the Lord for providing for his children.

Before dinner came I walked to Fair Harbor. Walking to Fair Harbor is a ritual of mine when I visit Saltaire. It beings back childhood memories. My favorite part of Fire Island is walking from Saltaire to Fair Harbor and back. I brought my dad's camera and took pictures. I took pictures of butterflies, a dragonfly, and deer, and other pictures. I will post them on my instagram by tomorrow. I got some beautiful pictures of two Monarch Butterflies holding on to each other. I thought they were mating! What a treat!

At Fair Harbor I got ice cream from "ufriendly's". I got a cone with sprinkles. The flavor was "Pirate's Treasure" and I ate it. One of the little kids winked her eye at me. I smelled smoke coming from the restaurant. Then I checked out "Corliss' By The Bay" but did not buy anything. Then I walked home.

On the way there I passed the Church where I was Baptized and took two pictures. I prayed in the garden before the broken crucifix. There were stones at the foot of the Cross. One encouraged me to trust in Jesus and one said "She Loves You With All Her Heart". I wonder who put them there. A message from Jesus and the Blessed Mother. I took a picture of the stones and will put it up with the other pictures. On the way back I passed the Church and looked inside at the exact moment of the elevation of the Victim after the consecration, so I genuflected and then walked home. Perfect timing.

In the morning I looked at birds and we made breakfast. My mother and I. Egg sandwiches. Then I got on the ferry and took the LIRR to go to Penn Station for Mass at St. Christopher's On the way there I prayed at Holy Innocents and Our Savior. It was a good trip to  Fire Island and pictures are coming! Thanks, Harry (and Mary). His father was a daily communicant and for a short while during World War II he was Padre Pio's driver. May God Bless him and let us hope he is in heaven and pray for him in case he is in purgatory.

Pain

My Father used to tell me a rhyme of the sea:

Red sky in the morning, sailor's warning; / Red sky at night, sailor's delight.

Pain
Sweeter then sugar,
Wetter than rain;
Blood flowing down
The spider-web drain.

A Poem for Gemma by Julian Moore.


Warning, there is dancing in this video and it is Rock and Roll, the Devil's Music:

My Rain Stick

 This is my Kangaroo Rain Stick. If you shake it it sounds like maracas, but if you slowly turn it upside down the pebbles inside fall slowly like rain and it is very pleasing to the sensitive ear. Notice that it is very beautiful. The pictures are Japanese woodcuts. I love Japanese and Chinese culture. I think it is very beautiful. I love Japanese movies. I prefer them to American movies. I despise Hollywood.

This is my guitar. It is a dark sunburst guitar. I bought it at a Guitar Center in Buffalo for three hundred and fifty dollars. It was used. I think it is a very beautiful guitar and I like playing it. I use Dean Markley acoustic guitar strings. They are my favorite kind of strings. The guitar itself is a Vantage. When I went to the store I asked the worker which guitar I should buy and he chose this one. I trusted him and that is why my guitar is so very good.

I am practicing now. It is one of my goals. I am currently focusing on the guitar and reading Cross Upon Cross. I hope to one day become a great leader of men. Pope Pius IX was a great leader of men and the book is about his life. I am borrowing it from Saint Michael's. I will give it back to Father S. when I am finished reading it.

I think my neighborhood is improving. People are saying hello to me and talking to me and I say hello back. The buses and the trains are running on time. Every thing is falling in the right place. One cannot achieve a utopia in this fallen world, but one can achieve a beautiful world of happiness and joy. We must strive together to bring about such a world. We are working on it here in Richmond Hill. I hope you will come and join us. It is a beautiful little town.

I am going to Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament today at Saint Benny's. I plan on praying the Rosary there before Our Lord.

A Ghost on a String

A Ghost on a String. I think I am alive. But I do not understand the world. I am not wise. I am a fool who knows nothing and lets everyone bleed me until my veins are dry. But I have hope. Despair was a bitter pill, but I do not feel that way right now. When I was in the hospital I thought I was in Limbo and then I thought I had descended into hell and then I escaped. The onion did not break on me. I was there for three weeks. I thought it was one. What did I do in all those times that were erased from my memory? My parents visited me every day. Was I alone? Were all of the other inmates phantasms, imaginary people who did not really exist or were they demons or were they lost souls? Were they all just ghosts on a string? Or were they real? Who is real? I do not even know what I am doing. Reality is something I can not grasp. Everything is enchanted. Are my eyes open or am I blind? The doctor from Cornell was there with all the other lost souls and he said of me that I was the most innocent person there. He could read my soul. Everyone can read my soul. My Father told me that people could smell my naivete. I do not think that is true. I do not think I am naive. S'Blood! But I know enough to know that they can smell it. I can not smell but I have eyes. I do not understand. There were a few people in my life. Should I reach out to them? Does anyone ever think about me? And most of my old friends were (Secret).

I saw Andrea and we had a wonderful time. Laughter is the best medicine (laughter and tears). I never had a lot of friends. Who would want to talk to me now? I have so little experience. I have Church friends. They are good, The older folks are carrying heavy crosses. But there are some who are young. The Lovely Helena should be coming back to New York soon. She is perfect. And Cecilia is so very beautiful. And Marie Therese has the perfect name. I have to get my act together. I am out of the hospital. Now I have to grow up and stop being a child. Hopefully I get work soon or learn how to multiply loaves so I can support myself somehow. I don't have a lot of connections. I don't know people who can get me ahead in life. But I am alive. That is more important than having work.

The Mayor of Kew Gardens

When I worked at Cafe Bliss I met "The Mayor of Kew Gardens". That was what he went by and was not an official title. He was on old, bald Jewish guy who lived in an apartment building in the neighborhood. He would hold court in our cafe and all of his men and women would gather there and I would serve them. I made a promise to him. That when he died I would take a bialy and a cup of coffee and put it on his gravestone (It would be a toasted bialy with butter and a small light and sweet coffee. That is how I like it and not how he likes it). He said he was to be buried in Maple Grove Cemetery, which has an entrance on Lefferts Blvd. and Kew Gardens Rd. It is a famous cemetery and they give out maps with markers for where the famous people are buried. Most of them were from a century ago. It is like Kew Gardens died when Kitty Genovese was murdered. She died right in front of the Cafe where I worked at, near the Long Island Railroad station. It is like she is haunting us and has unfinished business. His name was Aaron but I do not remember his last name.

The Mayor had a good friend named Stanley who was as ancient as the morning dew on Mars. He would show up early in the morning, always before daybreak as he could not stand the light of the sun. He would come in before sunrise at six in the morning and I would serve him. He only came on special days as he was weak and old and weary. They say he was a painter. But now he is old and his blood runs thin. Just a little more blood. In the mornings before the dawn. I never saw him under the sun, only under the moonshine before the sun peeks out over the horizon. Poor Stanley. I hope he enjoyed the coffee I made for him, and the little food. A life lived from a coffin only to rise on a blue moon in the few minutes before the day begins. He was a painter. I do not know whatever happened to Stanley. I imagine he is dead by now.

So I have to close the door on the past and find out where Aaron is buried. What was his last name? I can not remember. I went to visit Cafe Bliss which is under new management but I did not recognize anyone. And even if I did my parents don't want me talking to strangers so they will have to recognize me and talk to me before I talk to them. "The Mayor of Kew Gardens". Like "Da Mayor" in Do The Right Thing.

I used to serve him at the cafe. Working there was what led to my nervous breakdown combined with praying the Rosary and the death of my older brother. I want to put the pieces back together and exorcise the demons but to do so I have to find out where Aaron was buried, if indeed he is dead. If you have any clues let me know. Tell a little birdie and he will send me the message. I will hear it in their morning song. Or better yet send your guardian angel. They never fail, though I may fail to understand the message as I am not Padre Pio so I can not see my angel. But he has helped me so often that I know that he is there.

Angel of God, my Guardian Dear,
To Whom God's Love Entrusts us Here;
Ever This Day be at Our Side,
To Light and Guard, to Rule and Guide.

Working on a Prayer

I was thinking about the Angelus and working on a prayer for children. I am writing a prayer book for children.

Make us good, Lord,
Make us pure,
So we hear Jesus
Knock our door.

Who Is Gilgamesh?

That is the Question? What is his name?

Serenely arriving, arriving

"Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring, 

Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west, 

And thought of him I love. . . . solitary the thrush . . . death's outlet song of life . . . serenely arriving, arriving . . . to all, to each, sooner or later delicate death . . ."

Walt Whitman, Lilacs, Leaves of Grass

These three flowers are a figure of the Blessed Trinity. If you like this picture, check out my instagram. You can use my pictures as long as you do not claim they are your own. And if you do like my pictures say a prayer for Danica.

Line Sea-Eater

I went to the bird store and they had a new kind of bird for sale. The owner was Chinese and he told me the name of the bird. He said it was a "line sea-eater". In English, "line", not "lion". So it is confusing. I am glad he explained the name to me. I do not know the meaning, but that is what he called it. It was a beautiful bird. I did not get a good look at it in its cage because it was high on the wall above the line of my eyes so I could barely see her. She had a white breast and dark feathers above the breast and a dark head. She was beautiful. I hope next time I go to the bird store they have more of them and they are at eye level so I can get a good look at her and hear her song.

There were so many birds, but I was focused on the new one, the "line sea-eater". To eat the sea? What poetry. As Saint Augustine said that eternity was like trying to empty the sea and put it into a hole in the sand, which would be impossible for a man, yet it is easy for the good God. And here we have a line that eats the sea? The blue horizon? The circumference of the circle around the eyes of the sailor perched in the crow's nest. I hope to learn more about the new bird at our bird store. It is next to the auto shop that my father used to go to called "Chris and Charlie's" on Atlantic Avenue.

Go to your local pet store and listen to the birds sing. Werner Herzog was wrong In "Burden of Dreams" [which should properly be called "Burden of Nightmares"]. They do not screech in pain, they cry out with Joy to the good God as Saint Francis spoke of. It is only that the wicked do not understand the language of the animals as Adam did, and as the Holy Ghost does. I do not understand the language but I do understand that all the creatures praise the Lord with everything they do, even if they are not eternal like mankind and the angels are.

Actually it is not as poetic, it is called the "line seed-eater", it is just that Chinese sounds like gibberish to English people:

Deja Vu

As I was walking, I passed a house with a beautiful garden. Then on the next block I saw a house with morning glories out front and I saw them. Then I walked to the next block and it was the block before once again with the same flowers, the same houses and the same everything. Deja vu? Once again as it was as it ever shall be. The devil is playing tricks on me. So I laughed at the devil and walked forward to the next block and it was different (106th ST) and then I finished my morning walk and went back on to my own home. The snare was broken, I was delivered by the hands of the Lord. When I go to meetings they try to tell me that every meeting is the same. As Nietzche believed, we are in a trap of eternal sameness. One lives and dies an infinite number of times and every lifetime is identical. Nothing ever changes. But we know this is false and we have one life to live and have free will and God is always watching us and protecting us.

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.
Protect us from the snares of the enemy.

Protect us from deja vu.
"a glitch in the matrix?" I must have watched that movie a dozen times, rarely from the beginning. I preferred Kung Fu Hustle.
From the album Deja Vu. "Helpless". "Blue, blue windows behind the stars / Yellow moon's on the rise" written by Neil Young of Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young.

Beware, children, the song is a snare:

For Elisabeth

The moon is dry,
The sun is wet.
Squint your eyes,
It never sets;

Remember, Dear,
When you may roam,
You're only a step
Away from home.

A Birthday Poem by Julian Moore.

As Adam, Early in the Morning

5/24/29 Adam A

30. As Adam, early in the morning,
Walking forth from the bower, refresh'd with sleep;
Behold me where I pass--hear my voice--approach,
Touch me-- touch the palm of your hand to my Body as you pass;
Be not afraid of my Body.

-Walt Whitman

https://www.bartleby.com/142/30.html

!408! (steps)

Coffee and Pinball

I met two old friends tonight for Coffee and Pinball. Matthew and Andrea from Barnes and Noble Cafe. We talked of old times. When we were young before . . . In the joy of our youth and our blissful ignorance before the piper called . . . We laughed the whole time . . . we are friends. We laughed and laughed and talked about our knowledge. About the creepy things and fairie land. And Andrea spoke about how the moonlight is silver and I said the sunlight is gold, and she admitted that the moon is made of cheese, green cheese, said I.

Old names came up, Michelle, a girl I had a crush on. I had a crush on all the girls in the Barnes and Noble Cafe. Old loves when I was ignorant and thought love was not for keeps. I have never laughed so much as when we talked. It was a joyful night and I hope there are more to come. Andrea said we should meet again. Perhaps she could come to my neighborhood, or I could come to her's. We met half-way. In Ridgewood.

The coffee shop was called Milk and Pull. I came to the address and it was a common windowed door of a residential apartment building in the middle of the block with a sign saying there were no menus outside, but it was not a storefront. Then I walked a few blocks and prayed and I came back and the coffee shop was now on the corner with the same address and was a regular coffee shop with a top notch espresso machine, not an apartment. Andrea is wiser than I am. She knows so much. I am slow, I can barely even count bills as change and I cannot yet shuffle quarters. I am just a boy. We laughed and laughed and laughed.

We played pinball. Star Trek and The Lord of the Rings and poetry and movies. It was cool and breezy as we talked and the heat melted like a glacier in the summer sun. We talked about the people in our old life when we were together. And laughed at our follies. All of our follies. Ignorance and sins. How none of us were taught anything by our parents and we were left to figure it all out on our own.

Does any of this make sense?

On Monday I am applying for a job. Pray that I get it. There was a help wanted sign. I want to be a bus boy at a diner. I would be happy to have it as a job. Any money is good. I went to the Diner today with my father for breakfast and the waiter's name was Jesus Christ. He gave me a penny that was minted on my birthday and I gave him a dollar and my father added on to give a good tip. When I first went to the hospital after my problems started the ambulance technician's name was Adonai. The good God is watching over us.

I have to learn how to work well. I haven't worked since I had my breakdown eleven years ago, but now I think I am ready. I want to work hard and be ordered around and do good work for the love of God. My father said I am a leader. I think I am a watcher. How the man who built the Brooklyn Bridge was in a bed in an apartment with a view of the water and he commanded the crew from his bed. My mother said my instincts are good.

Life is very frightening but hopeful and happy. When I get scared I pray the Ave Maris Stella because I was Baptized in the Church of Our Lady Star of the Sea. Guide me back to port, my sweet Mother.

People are awake and some are still asleep. I am believing in Fatima now though it is a mystery. And that things are not as they seem. You cannot trust anyone, even your own eyes because there are motes and beams and if you do not cry enough tears you might just be blind and have no idea what you are seeing. We think we know things but we know nothing.

Names . . .

((()))
Which ones are lovers?

Daniela
Danica
Mellonie (I bought her a silver coin but I will never give it to her)
Stephanie
Warren
Rachel
Shane
Tom
Krissy
Jose
Geoffrey
Adam
Jackie
Michael
Jason
Sarah
Katrina
Katie
Giovanna
Satya
Corrina
Andrea
Matthew
Ashlyn
Vince
Joe Anne
Ira
Frankie
Sam
Amelia
Laura
Vivian
Tara
Michelle
Lindsay
Mr. Steve
Delgado Lewis [Pray For Him]
Nido (With Great Thanks)
Mr. Ross
Matt Damon
Jon
Dairus
Anthony (He is a good man who I admire.)
. . .

Let's Play Telephone . . .

Adam 5/25/19

Warren Schultz was my brother's sixth grade teacher and the principal of my elementary school. I remember I was once sent to his office and he did not rebuke me, but let me look at his toys. There was one with nails where you pressed your hand into it and it left an impression. Adam left after the fifth grade. I loved Adam. He was my best friend before he moved away to Long Island. Before he moved away.

My brother Michael's best friend was also named Adam.

Monastery of Our Lady of the Cenacle

Everyone has a favorite monastery that they support. I cannot visit one as I am not near a traditional one. The Okie Trad has Clear Creek. Mine is the Monastery of Our Lady of the Cenacle in Ireland. Years ago I discover a website called "Vultus Christi" with beautiful prayers and thought that made me cry tears of sorrow and of joy and of hope in a time of despair. I am ever so grateful. I am donating a little money to them now. My father allowed me to donate a small sum. I am a child, so my father makes such decisions. I asked for some holy cards or something. I wrote a pretty little envelope with their address and a man and a bird on it in red, blue, and black ink. We will mail it tomorrow

Check out their website for inspiration. And if you are in the US and want to donate to them, their mailing address is:

Monastery of Our Lady of the Cenacle Foundation
20315 South Hwy 75
Mounds, OK 74047

Checks payable to "The Monastery of Our Lady of the Cenacle Foundation"

Of all the monasteries in all the world, why on earth did I choose this one? I do not know why. I hope it is a good monastery. Support them.

NORTH OF BOSTON

Mending Wall

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says 'Good fences make good neighbors.'
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'

Robert Frost, 1914.

This is a poem I relate to. Robert Frost wrote it. It is not my favorite poem but it is mine. My favorite poem is "Lilacs" and then "Lycidas" and then "The Second Coming".

"Serenely arriving, arriving"
"I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,
And with forc'd fingers rude
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year."
"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;"

Comb My Hair

She is handsome, she is pretty / She is the belle of Belfast city.

Please wont you tell me, who is she?

I comb my hair.

Then I go home.

Cecilia

Today after Mass i was waiting on the corner holding on to a pole and I looked to the left and saw the beautiful Cecilia. She is the girl who Tom says I should go after. I did not see her during Mass. But I saw her and she smiled at me and I smiled at her and she said, "Have a good week". And I felt lighthearted and full of Joy. Maybe we should get married. Tom did say I should go after her and Tom knows everything. Her name is Cecilia. She could teach me how to play the guitar. Acoustic. Sunburst finish, solid top, Vantage. A good Japanese guitar. For what it's worth.

While I was at Mass (and I had a wonderful Holy Communion) my father went to the Pierpont Morgan Museum and went to an exhibit about Walt Whitman (and also one about Where the Wild Things Are [Emperor Maximilian]) He saw a copy of the original Leaves of Grass and some of Whitman's own manuscripts. He took pictures of the manuscript of "O Captain, My Captain", but he did not take me pictures of "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd" which was also in the exhibit and which I prefer as a poem. Does my father want me to be a king and not a mourner?

The original Leaves of Grass by the greatest American poet, "The Bard of Democracy." Of course the 1855 version does not have Lilacs, so my favorite poem in the original is the one which would later be titled "The Sleepers". "Stepping and stopping". "Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping? / Brother John? Brother John?"

Before Mass we stopped at Holy Innocents and I lit a candle in front of the statue of St. Lucy and prayed for a bit. I took a picture. For Julian so he may see again.

Holy Innocents is a good Church. They had signs promoting modesty. Father Miara is a good priest. He has no strikes against him. God Bless him. After Mass we went to St. Agnes near Grand Central Station and I lit a candle in front of the statue of "The Little Flower." Everyone loves her, the greatest saint of modern times, though in my jealousy I prefer my favorite special saint, the Holy Gemma Galgani.

Matthew

Benedict of the Desert

There was a great saint named Benedict and he always had the greatest care to keep
away from sins of impurity.

Praise be to Holy God and all his angels and his saints.
Matthew

I Love God

And I love ants and bees and butterflies. What else do I love? Mom and Dad and my brother. And my family.

Matthew