Lay Apologist

I remember my friend from Church angry Tom telling me that I was a writer so that I should become a lay apologist for the traditional Catholic faith. He suggested I try contributing articles to the Remnant (or was it Catholic Family News?). I was surprised because I did not know he knew I was a writer (not that I am really a writer. I was an English Major from a time right before my school stopped teaching about literature and started teaching progressive politics instead. But I am not a writer really except for this blog which I write a little for but every few months or so get scandalized by my posts and delete most of them). I guess Ronan told him that I wrote a screenplay. I did tell Ronan who is friends with Tom so he probably told him. In fact now I have written two screenplays. I wanted to write three but haven't started working on the third yet. They will not be movies because I do not have connections and it is hard to get screenplays made into movies, but the plan is to turn the three of them into a Novel in three parts. I will probably delete them before they ever see publication as they are not innocent. His blood be upon me and upon my novel. It developed over an attempt to feel better about a woman I was in love with. The first one cured my loneliness, the second one helped cause in me a strange breakdown and recovery, and the third is as yet unwritten.

I already deleted both my screenplays in a moment of scruples, but luckily my reader Robert had saved copies of them that I had sent him so I was able to recover them. It is a strange scruple I have but it is recurring. Scruples. After I converted at some point I felt like most of my books were wicked so I threw away many of my books. And then I threw away all of my CDs and all of my DVDs, even the ones that weren't scandalous. I do wish I still had my Criterion Ozus. But I am happier having weaned myself off of mindless stimulation. I find stimulation leads to resentment beyond a basic level of necessity. Was is Socrates who said "Yes, sex is pleasurable but it will make you a slave"? Well I agree and am trying to avoid slavery. Some things are harder than others. I am weaned off of sex and stimulation. But I still have to eat and drink. When I give up big things, I want to replace them with little things. So I will have a little bread or an extra cup of coffee. Ideally I would reach the level where I could happily starve myself to death. I did reach that level when I was fasting. But my sloth has led me back into slavery to food. I am 158 pounds. I should be 140 so I am 18 pounds overweight. A slothful glutton.

Sex certainly felt like a drug and so did drugs and alcohol which I am no longer a slave to. Food is more subtle so it does not harm my contentment. I do not have to go to fancy restaurants to get a fix of delicacy. I am happiest to be free of the mindless stimulation of television and motion pictures and radio. However it hurts me when I am introduced to such stimulation now that I am weaned of it. Just the thought of listening to Rachel Maddow bickering about Russia or Ukraine makes me want to puke and kick the television in the face like in that German Movie about the Moroccan (or perhaps he was an Algerian). Je ne sais rien. So I am a writer. Not skilled, but I am happy. I have been ever so happy since I got out of the hospital in late July. I am like a hermit though. I am always thinking about God or about charity. It is like an obsession but a happy one. So I do pray a lot now. Not structured but all the time. Like the background of my mind is always praying Hail Mary praised be to Jesus Christ Our God. Thurdays and Fridays are good because I get to pray before the Blessed Sacrament exposed. And going to the Latin Mass on Sundays is the best day of the week.

Tomorrow is All Saints Day. It is Friday. Prayer before the Monstrance and go into the City to Holy Innocents where I will hopefully meet some of my Church friends. Then Church on Sunday. Now that the Lovely Helena plays the electric piano most Sundays we have music. And singing. No more quiet but instead beautiful music.

So I should start writing articles. Where do these people come from? Sometimes I like reading articles, but then other times it feels like they are vultures, begging subscriptions from scandalized traditionalists and looking forward to acts of idolatry so they can get more money. Sometimes I think they are worse than vultures but are wolves wanting to lead the faithful astray and devour them. And other times I think they are good people, but it is hard to imagine anyone involved in the media to be a good person. Anyone. But I do wonder where these people come from. Where did Taylor Marshall come from? I am seeing him all over Youtube and people are talking about his book Infiltration. I do not trust him but I admit he may be a good guy. He was an Anglican presbyter and when he converted he turned down the opportunity to become a rare western rite married priest and is now an FSSP traditionalist lay apologist. I would not be able to write a work of traditionalist non-fiction because I do not like doing research or using footnotes and I get sickened by all the filth. I will stick to fiction and to my blog posts where I can ramble. Poetry is rare for me and when I am on my Zyprexa it kills my inspiration to write poetry. But that is better than acting like a faerie and ending up in the hospital. When I was in the hospital there were so many things that happened that I wonder if they were real or not. Like when I was with a worker and he was trying to get me to sell my soul to the devil, and I refused. Or when the fellow patient was telling me how he does not eat any seafood because it is all really water-bugs and he does not want to eat water-bugs. Or how they gave me a piece of gum that when I chewed it gave me the knowledge of God and a caramel candy that when I sucked on it gave me the power of God. Does that make sense to you? It did to me at the time kind of.

So I should write articles for the Remnant now and be a lay apologist. Perhaps I could marry Hillary White. People still take Michael Voris seriously so perhaps I could make a name for myself.

I have nothing in my life except for religious things. All my time belongs to God. IT is good, no? What else should I do with my broken mind? I Can offer it up. Je sais? Je sais.

Tom is sick with cancer and is going through chemotherapy. I hope to see him tomorrow at Holy Innocents. We can get coffee after Mass and talk. Or perhaps there will be other people there. I am happiest alone, but I like good friends.

Julian is blind. He says he loves it when I visit him and as I was about to leave on Tuesday he asked me when I was visiting again. I said probably sometime next month. He is my best friend. Julian the blind man from Church. He prays for us. I pray for him. The communion of saints. He wants to be cured. He got upset when I expressed doubts that he will be miraculously cured. He wants to be cured. I was trying to tell him that it may be that God wants him to suffer his blindness in patience to make up for his sins and the sins of the world. Like the saints did. But he got upset. He really wants to be cured. It is difficult for him. He wants to see again.

So that is my blog post. I hope you liked reading it. I know if I want to get views I should attack and condemn people because all of us are vicious catty detractors who take pleasure in feeling better than everyone else. But what should we do if people really are bad? Je ne sais rien. So I should be a writer.

Church News

I try to live in a sheltered bubble but I sort of follow Church News. I read some blogs and people talk at coffee hour. People talk about apostasy among the hierarchy. I do not bother about it. When I used to care more it was not good for my spiritual health. There is nothing I can do about it so why should I bother? I hope I can continue going to my Low Mass on Sundays and go to Eucharistic Adoration or pray before the tabernacle.

Karen said you should not go to the Novus Ordo parishes because there are devils there. She thinks the Novus Ordo is valid but illicit. But it is valid so Jesus is really there. Is it not good to go there and keep Jesus company? In this world of pain should we really be afraid of devils? Should not the devils be afraid of us? The world is covered with devils we are constantly surrounded by them and many of us were in league with them for many years and were slaves of them and how often have we made love to the demons? But now we are supposed to be children of light. So shouldn't we try to keep Our Lord company in the tabernacles and wouldn't the devils flee from us as we come to adore Him?

I try to love people. But often I don't trust people. I think everyone is well-meaning, but at the same time I think everyone is duplicitous. Everyone is good, but deep in their heart everyone really wants universal damnation.

I feel safe myself. I feel like I am doing alright. But I do feel alone sometimes. I have a few Church friends.

I don't know what I am trying to express in this blog post but tomorrow is Eucharistic Adoration. I wish it were every day. I don't know why there is a difference between praying before a monstrance or before a tabernacle but for some reason it feels better and more real before the Blessed Sacrament exposed, as if there are more graces for some reason as if the bronze of the tabernacle door blocks the good God's graces from reaching us. To gaze not upon a crucifix but directly into the eyes of God himself and he gazes back into our eyes. There is nothing to say, except for "O Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto thine heart."

That is my most favorite prayer these days. I don't know if it is working. I feel happy but one can never judge the state of one's own soul. I feel like I am at peace and in the state of grace and free of demonic oppression or obsession but for all I know I could be in grave sin and possessed by a thousand demons. I wish I remembered more from the hospital. It was a battlefield. I wish I could remember the visit of the priest and what went on there. Apparently he performed an exorcism and gave me a New Testament in Spanish and gave me instructions which I do not remember and the New Testament was stolen from me. "O Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto thine heart."

I am getting better at the quiet prayer. That is what I call being quiet and having peace and not thinking while looking at the tabernacle or at Jesus or at the crucifix. I do not know what is supposed to happen when one prays. Is one supposed to repeat little prayers over and over again like "O Jesus . . ." ? Or is one supposed to mentally re-watch the passion over and over again? Is one supposed to let one's mind wander? Or is God supposed to take control of one's mind and give it wisdom? I have no teacher and am on my own not knowing what to do. I wish I had a desert father to ask about, one who has become all flame and has reached the highest state of perfection possible in the world today. Are there men like that today? Perhaps locked away in a monastery somewhere? Like the men in the deserts who can move mountains with their prayers? O how Russian of you to believe there are one or two desert monks who can move mountains. So I do not know how to pray. But I love the quiet prayer now. As I lay in bed I can gaze at my crucifix and have peace like the peace of death.

My Favorite Story

Two Fathers asked God to reveal to them how far they had advanced. A voice came which said, 'In a certain village in Egypt there is a man called Eucharistus and his wife who is called Mary. You have not yet reached their degree of virtue.' The two old men set out and went to the village. Having enquired, they found his house and his wife. They said to her, 'Where is your husband?' She replied, 'He is a shepherd and is feeding the sheep.' Then she made them come into the house. When evening came, Eucharistus returned with the sheep. Seeing the old men, he set the table and brought water to wash their feet. The old men said to him, 'We shall not eat anything until you have told us about your way of life.' Eucharistus replied with humility, 'I am a Shepherd, and this is my wife.' The old men insisted but he did not want to say more. Then they said, 'God has sent us to you.' At these words, Eucharistus was afraid and said, 'Here are these sheep; we received them from our parents, and if, by God's help we make a little profit, we divide it into three parts: one for the poor, the second  for hospitality, and the third for our personal needs. Since I married my wife, we have not had intercourse with one another, for she is a virgin; we each live alone. At night we wear hair-shirts and our ordinary clothes by day. No-one has known of this till now.' At these words they were filled with admiration and went away giving glory to God.

I would like to have a marriage like that. Honestly. If I could choose my life it would be a modern version of that story.

Stations of the Cross

What makes you happy? Do you have happiness or only relief? When I was younger I never had happiness, but I only had relief. I feel more happiness now. I feel happy. I have no troubles in the immediate present. I have no great things, but I am content. I am taken care of. I will never amount to anything but in my own little world I am happy.

Everything in my life used to be a series of addictions. But now I am getting better. I am trying not to eat again to take over that impulse. I want to have no masters and get to the point where I could voluntarily starve myself to death and refuse food even to the point of death. Not that I ever would kill myself. But to be as much of a master over my self as I can be. Of course God is my master. Even the wicked have God as their master as the devil is a slave of God though unwilling.

So I am fasting again. For real. As I did before. So if it goes well I will be losing weight again. It will make me happier if it is as it was before.

I am looking forward to a book I will be buying from Angelus Press. A bunch of different stations of the cross. I started praying them every day. It is good for me. I go to Church and pray. I try not to be noticed. But I have a nosy neighbor who is always watching me. I like her but I feel odd around her. She knows I like to pray. She talks to me about it. She asked me why I don't have a girlfriend. I told her I am looking for one, which is kind of true, but I know is very unlikely. I told her it was hard to find one and she said really? And I said, a good one.

A good one.

I do not have very strong passions any more. I think it is good. I am getting older.

Crows

Walking back from St. Benny's I saw many birds. They looked like crows with dark brown chests. There were a hundred of them eating, flying, sitting in the trees. I watched them for a few minutes. So many birds.

Into the Sea

One of my refrains is "into the sea." It is something I say.

I do like going to Church. There are people there. They seem like nice folk who are good and pray.

I do try to be good. But I talk to myself too much. And sometimes I say not-nice things. I do not get angry or upset or bitter or hateful. But I say strange things and sometimes bad things. I guess it is a vice. I started to slap myself in the face whenever I talked to myself, whether good or bad. Thoughts are alright, but speaking out loud seems wrong. But my mother saw me slapping my face and told me to stop doing that. So then I started saying a Hail Mary whenever I talked to myself. I remember the late Father Gruner advising a man who couldn't stop blaspheming to say a Hail Mary whenever he blasphemed and his habit ended quickly. I am doing the same. I do not think it is a sin, because it just comes out of me without any thought. A sign of a wicked heart. I guess I do not have a pure heart.

I am working on it. I am trying. I have been trying especially since I got out of the hospital. Trying to be pure. Praying more. Not listening to rock and roll music. I have found classical music to be superior as music anyway. Not just 1451451454545 over and over again. But I think it would be thought to be wicked in its own time anyway, just not as bad as the wicked music of today. Opera especially.

Into the sea. I am a different person than I was when I just got out of the hospital. The medicine effects me. It suppresses my imagination and deadens my strange ideas. And I have problems thinking. I have less energy also. But I do trust in God and feel like I am in a good state.

I went to confession on Sunday. I had little to confess. Once a month, he said. So I told my failings like talking to myself. I don't know when frequent confession became common. I heard once that in the early Church Catholics were only allowed to go to confession one time in their life plus on their deathbed. So if they ever committed a second mortal sin they would have to do penance for the rest of their lives, stay outside the Church and beg for prayers from the good Christians for the rest of their lives and hope that they do not die suddenly so that a priest could reach them before they die. Now we go every week and confess little sins and not just big ones. Also, they used to give real penances, like seven years of fasting for one mortal sin. Such things inspire awe. Now one receives a penance like pray one rosary for something like fornication. The penance is so slight compared to the sin that it makes the sacrament almost seem like a joke. Is that what one could call penance?

Into the sea. I will go into the sea.

My fasting is not going well. I eat too much. I do not think it is a sin, the amount I eat, but it is not penitential so I am failing on what I intended to do. I wanted to fast for forty days but every day I eat and eat and eat. It is like the devil is tempting me and since I see it as slight, for it is not Lent, I give in. I give in almost every day. I still pray, but I do not fast.

I am copying out the Baltimore Catechism Number 3 into notebooks like a child in religious class. I do not remember what I wrote. But I know if I finish copying it out completely it will be in my heart even though my heart is broken and I cannot access it from there. But after the day of judgment it will be written on my heart in my glorified body and I will remember it forever.

I am seeing enemies everywhere. As if everyone in the world is an agent of the devil. Some people I know surely are. But everyone, even people who pretend to be holy. It is hard to judge when it comes to religious people. There are ways of discerning that I use. Are they lax? Do they imply that Jews can be saved without Baptism? Do they believe in evolution? Those are three I use. And I use my judgment. At the same time I trust everyone I know, but I trust no one. Like sedevacantists, to take one such group. I now think they are schismatics and tools of the devil. But I think many of them just do not know better and my best friend is a sedevacantist and I try to be good to him. Our priest knows what he believes and gives him the sacraments so I guess he thinks his beliefs are okay to hold.

Into the sea. I will go into the sea and drown in the waves of brine. I cannot swim but I will go into the sea. The poet sees the sea as his mother, as mother Mary is the star of the sea who guides us home. Into the sea. I love the world and think it is so beautiful, listening to birds, but I love and hate nearly everyone I know. I do not think there are a lot of good people in the world today. Nobody really believes and those who seem to are only looking to make money. I have to sell a thousand copies of "The Catholic Inquisitor" so I will be real strict and try to act more Catholic than everyone else (not to be mean to Louie, I am not completely serious).

I want to go into the sea. My mother. Why is drowning to the bottom of the sea the most frightening of deaths when it should be the most comforting?

A note of ambivalence. Tonight we are eating Chinese food for dinner. I do not know why I would note that but I do.

Into the sea. I am not inspired to write much lately. I am going to Church more to pray before the tabernacle or the Blessed Sacrament exposed on Thursdays and Fridays. It is a good habit. Jesus is there. And I really believe he is there and try to love Him. I believe I do love Him. But not enough, I know. And just because I love her and because she is so very beautiful I will post a picture of Gemma at the end of this little post. I could look at her always and never get tired of looking at her and I hope to be with her in heaven one day forever and ever. Peace.

Prayers Against the Devils

I got a new book of prayers. For protection against the devils. I will bring it to Church. I could use protection against the devils. The prayers might make one seem superstitious to the logical Christian who does not believe in the devil or thinks of him as an abstract and not a person of malicious will.

I will show it to one person in particular who could use it. We could all use it. I have not read all the prayers. But the ones I have read are nice. I cannot see the devils so I do not know how effective the prayers are. I haven't studied the prayers seriously yet, but I will.

Devil go away. Devil go away. I despise you and spit upon you. Go to the foot of the Cross to receive thy sentence.

I made that up, but some of the prayers are kind of like that. I don't know. So much has happened in my life that I see the devils' influence in. As if they really prowl throughout the world and have power over it. In fact I feel that the majority of people in the world today are for the most part totally controlled by the devil, abject slaves who only think they are doing their own will but are really controlled by their passions by the evil one and of his minions. The world only makes sense to me as the cosmic play between good God and the devil. I feel nearly everyone loves the devil now, and there are not many good people who love God. But I live in New York City, the capital of usury in the world today, so I am far from the garden of Eden.

I have been going to the local parish a lot to pray. I think it is good. Prayers before the tabernacle and in front of the Blessed Sacrament exposed. The local parish has Exposition and Benediction every Friday and the next one over has Exposition every Thursday. So I started going. I like to stare at Our Lord in the monstrance. sometimes I cry. Say prayers and cry. Thinking about the Passion and the Redemption.

I do not trust most people. The people I talk to. They are false prophets and only God can I trust. Everyone is a deceiver who really has the devil in their hearts. But when I see people I love them and trust them and think they have good intentions at heart. I trust and mistrust everyone I know. But I know I can trust Jesus.

The idea of the Novus Ordo being valid but defective is in my mind. It is not as good as the Latin Mass, but still valid. So Our Lord is truly present so one can honor him and worship him in the Novus Ordo tabernacles and in the Novus Ordo monstrances. I have taken that to heart and keep Our Lord company at my local parish and the next one over.

I still do not know what to think of the indult parishes. Should I go to Mass there? I went twice, but did not receive Communion there. I think it is valid and real, but I am not fully okay with it. I don't know all the reasons, but I go where I go for reasons of thinking it is the best place and the indult is compromised, at least somewhat and not as good, though it is valid. (I know "indult" is out of date). Many people where I go to Mass also go to Holy Innocents. For what it's worth, I think there are good people there, if there are any good people. They are pro-life and pray the Rosary and the women veil their heads at Mass. Is that enough? Perhaps. Perhaps not. They are respectful. Does the Good God dwell in their hearts? I hope so for all of them. I trust them and do not trust them.

I went to Mass at Holy Innocents to meet friends on the Feast of the Holy Rosary. My friends did not show up so I was alone. I saw a few people I knew but we did not talk. Barbara and Mark and Marie Therese. There was a procession where we walked around the streets of Manhatten with a statue of Our Lady of Fatima and prayed the Joyful and Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary. I had never done that before. Julian's sister was also there but I do not remember what she looks like so I did not talk to her either.

Any way. I feel like a child of God. But I cannot see all the time. I am full of joy but I can not tell if other people are good or bad by looking at them. Sometimes I think I can. But I have to guess and for most people except for the little children I guess no, they are children of the devil. But I love them. I love everyone despite my words sometimes when I talk to myself.

I am praying more since I got out of the hospital. I am always thinking of God or Godly things. What else can I do with my life? With my broken mind that cannot remember again or again or again. I am copying out the Baltimore Catechism No. 3. I am up to question Number 784. There are 1400 questions. When I am done I will read it again and again in my notebooks. Perhaps I could make it a goal of my life to memorize it. That would be some achievement with the state of my memory. At least get the gist of it.

Forever and ever. This is a rambling post but my thoughts are clear. I am at peace now. I fear no evil. But I know I Can fall into fear in a moment. I feel peace.

Old Peeps

Today I hung out with Matthew and Andrea. They were friends from before I became ill, co-workers from Barnes and Noble. We talked. They are married now. Talked about people from work, and a little about life, movies, cell phones, books. We did not talk about Church or God which is what I am always thinking about these days. I showed them my two rooms with holy cards and books, but we did not talk about them. I talked about The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings. We talked for a while. I could see us being friends again. They are people. Neither are practicing Catholics. I pretty much only have Church friends. We talked a little about Danica in Los Angeles. Stephanie was mentioned. People from my past. So long ago, but we still could talk. We remember enough.

I don't think Mellonie wants to talk to me anymore. She cut me off from her instagram and did not send me a birthday greeting this year which was our ritual. For a decade we would talk by email three times per year or so, always on her birthday, April 30th, always on my birthday, September 10th and always on Christmas. I must have offended her somehow in a way I do not remember. Maybe I said something bad while having an episode or she was offended by my blog or instagram. So I guess I will not send her a message on Christmas. An old friend lost. Oh well. I will not lose any sleep over it, though I would prefer to remain friends with her as she is my one connection to my university days and as a former lover we have many shared memories and I remember her fondly even though I was very bad to her. I remember her with love. I will not be cutting my wrists or taking too many sleeping pills or drinking myself unconscious.