Depression

I have never suffered from serious depression. I should be depressed materially speaking. I am alone. I am crazy. I have little money. I have no girlfriend and doubt I will ever marry (I certainly have no prospects) or have a family. But I am happy. I am fortunate that my psychosis is not supplemented with depression so that while I might end up in the psych ward again I will likely not kill myself.

But thinking more about my life, this is not entirely true. I had a short period of time where I used to be extremely depressed in the past. For a short year or so before I went crazy I felt very lonely without a girlfriend or meaningful relationships and fought depression with booze and sex. It did not help. They were just distractions. And then I had my year of hell. But now I am happy.

What changed to make me happy? Two things happened. (Well three, I went through hell). One, I went crazy. And two, I became religious. Perhaps there is something about being crazy that makes one happier, but that does not seem right. But I think my being religious helps me be happier. I have come to the conclusion that making a good confession is more helpful psychologically than any other factor in my life, or else, something about the ritual has such a very strong placebo effect that it is extraordinary. I am not consumed and oppressed with foreboding and guilt and regret. And feeling that I am not alone, even though I am so very alone, but have a God and the saints to give me comfort and friendship is very helpful. Also avoiding strong addictive physical stimulations such as sex and alcohol also seem to help me be happier. I have a measure of peace now, more than I have ever had and I am generally happy. I do not have as much pleasure as I used to have, but in the dead of night when all is quiet I do not feel miserable or wretched, I can sleep without booze and am content and happy. And while I have daily cares and worries, all I have to do is look at a tree or up at the sky or at a bird and I will have joy. Even the homeless can look up at the sky and at the clouds or at the moon or at the stars (even in the city we can see a few of the stars).

I am materially okay, not in need. This is an important factor, so I am not on the street or in danger of being on the street (for now, but not forever). But this was also the case when I was miserable.

The picture is Danica crying because I was thinking about depression because of her. I learned that she is having a sad time in her life. Nobody reads this blog and she probably will not see this so I hope she won't mind me using her so very beautiful picture here.

At one time in my life there was a boy who had a crush on me, but I was only interested in women, but I unwisely was friendly with him, and he once overdosed in my company on purpose, perhaps over me, or just out of depression, I am not certain, so he was on the floor of my room as I waited for him to wake up. I do not know if he truly meant to try to kill himself, but he survived. It was such a strange time in my life, chaotic, my time of misery before my year of hell. Our relationship did not end well, but it did not end in suicide for either of us. I am such a wretched person.

So my cure in general for my own depression was to make peace with God and go to confession (as despair and guilt was a large part of my sadness). However this only works if one believes in God and no longer wants to do those things considered to be sins and is willing to change one's life and one can not force this. And this does not work if one is already at peace with God and is still depressed or if sin is not in part the cause one one's depression. I also think reducing the amount of sensory pleasure also makes me happier and less depressed, though this does not make sense at first. The hangover is always worse than the high is good in a way. I do not know if secular therapy is helpful for those with depression. I go to secular therapy and it does not help me, but my problem is psychosis and not depression. Medicine is helpful for me and I like going to therapy because I don't have many friends and it is fun to talk to people but it is no cure. But I imagine it is helpful for depression for those who do not have other meaningful relationships where one can be honest and cut to the heart without being afraid to show one's weakness and one's ugliness. I would think that talking about one's wounds must help if one's depressed, but there is no absolution so the guilt remains. And there are wounds where there is no guilt at all which still bite and cut so what happens to such wounds as these? I know my wounds were mostly of my own making. I was guilty and was not innocent. I was not solely a victim like a girl abused.

I do not know if anti-depressants work or if they are only distractions like alcohol (though I doubt they are as destructive as alcohol). I only know that some psychiatric medicines work to some degree because my psychosis is helped by the medicine I take (usually!).

My life is not as tragic as most people's, so I do not have as many wounds or as many reasons to be depressed. My greatest wounds were my guilt and then the terrors of the demons from my year in hell (which to me was as harsh abuse as most suffering from the hands of men).

I am not a teacher> I am only a fool. I have no followers. I hope to have a quiet peaceful life followed by a happy eternity in heaven. But many believe that such an eternity does not exist. For the past four months I have been well. And if there is no after life I hope to have the same quiet peaceful life.

But I have been crying a bit lately. But my tears have been happy tears for the most part, or meaningful tears. Crying over my sins or the sufferings of Our Lord or with happiness at the grace of God or His redemption. Perhaps these are fantasies. But I would not give back these tears.

I am so very alone. I have my parents but they are not a wife or children. And soon they will die. I hope to have peace and I wish you all have peace as well.

For a while before my last relapse I was feeling very lonely and I was not always happy. I also was drinking a bit which was likely on part the cause. I would think how my life had no meaning without a wife and a family of my own, and while I was writing my stories about a relationship I did not have in reality, this added to my sense of sadness. At times I would want nothing more than a wife and children. And most men are made for family. Yet I will likely never have this and certainly do not have it now. It is one thing to be sad because one loses a lover, but it is another to know that one will likely never have a lover again. But now even though I am so alone, I am happy now (but not always).

Anyway I am no teacher> I was just thinking about these things and hoping for the best . . .

Miraculous Medal

So today is the feast of the Miraculous Medal in some Churches. I remember when I was new to the faith I bought a Miraculous Medal and wore it to Church one day. I thought to myself in my bouts of despair that God would not allow one who wore His Blessed Mother's Medal to go to Hell. And then the first Sunday I went to Church while wearing the medal I had my vision and was frightened and I never wore a Miraculous Medal regularly again.

The vision was an interesting event in my life. Though I am no saint, I can claim a vision from God, or perhaps a hallucination. I have talked about it before. Quickly, while at the Latin Mass, at the moment of the elevation of the host, as the server was ringing the bells, I saw the host glow like a light bulb very brightly and felt interiorly like dirt, nothingness, evil, vile, as if I was possessed by a thousand devils and the devils were manifesting themselves before the presence of God. It was a very important moment in my life. But I still do not wear a Miraculous Medal though I am no longer terrified of them.

I carry a Miraculous Medal in my wallet now. It is embedded in a prayer card to Gemma, a little one, I got from a Passionist Monastery. O Mary Conceived Without Sin, Pray For Us Who Have Recourse To Thee.

I wonder if I am a good person. I don't do a lot of things. I think of God a lot and I like going to Church, but I am not doing many things. I am not a missionary or a crusader. I do think of God. The heroes were the men who fled to the desert and ate rocks and thought of God, coming to Church once in a while or receiving visiting priests to give them the sacraments. They did not Do much either. But their prayers were of great value. I do not have a lot of interaction with other people, and as a crazy person, I am not a man of eminence. I am a little person.

I follow people on the internet and some of them seem good. But who can one trust? Anyone? Would not all truth-speakers be banned from the internet? Are there not algorithms used by Google and Facebook to suppress all truth and only allow errors of various degrees? And if truth is stated it must be expunged (unless it is used as bait to lure the youth into other greater errors)? As we live in a world full of the snares of the devil only the innocent and humble can be saved. Only the humble will find truth. Blessed are the pure of heart for they shall see God.

Do you want to be innocent?

Sometimes I feel as if I am the only sane man left in the world. Or one of a few. I have temperence for some of the people I know from Church, but everyone else is crazy. Knowing of my own limitations I wonder if everyone is crazy or if they are just evil or afraid. We live in a world of snares. If Abba Anthony saw all the snares and wondered who can be saved with all those snares, how would it look today if we could see as Anthony saw? If the answer is still humility, the power of humility must be greater now that the snares are multiplied. Do we need more grace today than in previous times? Life is not more difficult, but human respect is far stronger, and people do not want to believe. Everyone says to you, do not believe and I will give you fruit and we take the fruit and are glad, but at night we die and find out that the fruit we took was poison.

Do you want to be innocent?

Ronan and Tom?

I hope to see both Ronan and Tom in Church today. They both told me they would be there. They were old friends but a little less than a year ago they got in a fight and stopped being friends. I hope they make friends again. Today would be a good day. It would be nice to go out to dinner with both of them after Church tonight. I hope so.

. . .

They were there but they did not reconcile. The friendship was not saved. And father was sick so we did not have Mass. We prayed the Rosary. Oh well.Peace be upon them.

Just A Thought

When I had a girlfriend named Stephanie I had a thought come into my mind out of nowhere. The thought was "Sex is for children, not for pleasure. It is wrong to have sex for pleasure and not for children." It was the first thought that I had that was remotely Christian while I was living in sin, so I remembered it as an important moment in my life, though I did not follow the thought to its end immediately and in fact not for another year.

My Neighbor

There is a woman who owns the house next door to mine. She is Hispanic, about my age, she has a daughter. She likes talking to me for some reason. She once told me, a few weeks ago, that I was her best friend. I was surprised. I think perhaps she was lying. My parents don't trust her. My father said something very strange to me, that she might want to marry me, though I am not quite sure why she would want to marry me, he suggested some sort of attempt to get more government assistance. I do get a small disability stipend every month, but that wouldn't be much of an incentive to marry me in my mind. People think strange things, including my father. I never saw her with the father of her daughter and I never asked about him.

She asks me if I have a girlfriend, have I had girlfriends in the past, if I am looking for one. To which I responded truthfully. Though I did tell her I was looking for a girlfriend, which is bending the truth, as I have no hope of ever finding one, but if one came along according to my desires who I could trust I would accept one, almost anyone, something that is probably impossible. I told her it was hard to find a girlfriend, and she said "really?" And I said it was hard to find a good one. I haven't actively looked for a girlfriend since I both went crazy and became religious. I fear it is beyond my abilities to have a normal relationship with a woman. Man. Wife. Children. So I just figure it will never happen. I don't know what women think of me now. I think for two years while I was working at Barnes and Noble from 2005 to 2007, young women found me to be attractive. I say that because there were a good number of girls (and one homosexual man) who were interested in me or apparently had crushes on me. But I have no idea what they might think now that I am older. I do not think I look much older or ugly, but my hair is thinning and I am a little overweight.

Now I stay away from women for the most part. Other than my neighbor. There are the two wonderful girls at Church, the beautiful Cecilia and the lovely Helena, but I do not talk to either of them often because I imagine they would be looking for a better man than me. I think I am a good man, but not in a conventional way, and not able to raise and support a big family. I am a broken man with narrow shoulders. I just hope to have a peaceful life in quiet solitude. Hopefully have a place to live and a place to go to Church to my liking.

This blog has some readers though I do not promote it. I don't know how many people return regularly. Blogger does not give a lot of information about my readers so I do not know much about them other than I get a few visits per day.

So I have thought a little about what my life would be like if I married the woman who owns the house next door. She is not beautiful but she is in good physical shape for her age. She wears heavy make-up around her eyes, the last time I saw her it was blue. There is nothing remarkable about her appearance. Her hair is dark brown but she dyed it blonde so that a lot of it remains brown and a lot of it is blonde. It looks totally unnatural. So much so that I wonder how she would think such a look would be attractive. But she is a woman and all women are beautiful. I do not even know her name. It may be Rita. She wears tight pants though she covers herself. The pants would have to go. She told me that she has God in her heart so she is happy and I told her that I am also happy. Something which is true. I think she is Catholic because she sends her daughter to the Catholic School near my house and she went to the Blessing of the Animals on the Feast of Saint Francis. She may go to the local Spanish Mass at Church. I saw her that day and she asked me why I wasn't there and I told her it was because I did not have any animals to bless. I guess I could have brought my fish in a pitcher. She knows I like to pray and go to Church.

A thought about the idea that women enjoy sex more than men do. And how they can have a great deal of pleasure, and as often as they would like to and yet remain unhappy. When the lights go out and they are alone at night they cry and want to commit suicide. If pleasure would mean happiness . . . But it does not. I would rather think the opposite that the happiest man would be the one who has the least pleasure, as long as his sufferings were not too great or if he was able to bear them. It has been four months and I am very happy and have been since I returned home. I am at peace with God. Or so I hope. Perhaps I hate him but do not know I hate him, but I feel I am at peace and that I love him. I do not have any doubts and I have not had any doubts for eleven years. I do not know the vast universe of belief but I believe it is in essence true.

Julian is my friend. It is strange because that is my pen-name. But my best friend is named Julian. He lives in a nursing home and hopes to soon move into his sister's apartment. He is blind and sick with diabetes and bad kidneys. I visit him and talk to him. I met him at Church. He is the most extreme believer one could ever hope to meet. He is a sedevacantist and a Feeneyite. He is a follower of a monastery in upstate New York that condemns almost every other priest and Bishop that they know about to the point that they do not have a single Bishop in the world who they agree with and follow. They think there has not been a Pope for sixty-one years. There are some Catholics who reject the changes that occurred in the Church since the Second Vatican council, and I am among them. But I am a moderate. Some have come to the belief that it is impossible for the Pope to do what was done. Yet it happened. So they come to the conclusion that in doing what was done, the Pope automatically ceased being Popes so none of the changes counted as it were because it was not really the Church, and the Church now has no head (and no Bishops except for a few vagantes). "Ipso-facto" so they say. I find the position to be absurd, but I love a number of people who believe it is the case. But it causes strife. Julian loves talking about the Church and I love talking about the Church also, but I am cautious to avoid disagreement. He does not believe modern priests are really priests and he does not believe they can forgive sins or that Jesus is truly present in the modern Churches. So I do not try to tell him that I believe Jesus really is there, even though I think the priests are wrong and do not go to their Masses. In a way what I believe is worse. He thinks God is not present in the modern Church, but I believe he is still there but when he comes down to the altars he is tortured and abused by the people there. So I go to adore him and hope to love him and kneel before him to show my love. So while I do not go to the modern Masses often, I like to go before the tabernacles and pray, and I go to Benediction and to pray before the Blessed Sacrament exposed, which is really a treat. I believe Jesus is there and that I can see him and talk to him and adore him in the quiet without showing my approval of the modern Mass and the beliefs of the modern Churchmen. Julian is not as extreme as they come because there are some priests whose Mass he goes to and who he confesses his sins to. There are some men who are so extreme that there are no priests to whom they will go and they will not go to any Church at all and they will never confess their sins to a priest and will ask God himself for forgiveness and hope to be forgiven without the sacraments, which is a very grave thing to do if one believes one must confess one's sins to a priest to be forgiven as we do. They are called home-aloners. I have met them on the internet but never met one in person. How would I meet one? If they never go to Church? The only way to meet one would be on the internet where they argue with the other traditional Catholics (though they are almost always banned from most websites when their true beliefs are discovered) or to meet them at a conference about traditional Catholicism. The most famous of these believers is named Gerry Matatics and he gives conferences and talks where he tries to convince people to stop going to Mass because there are no more priests left that we know of whose Masses are pleasing to God, and it is better to have no priest than to have a vagante priest who is not sent by the Church or a heretic priest of the whore of Babylon, the Vatican II sect.

I am a very religious person and I have spent a lot of time reading about it and talking about it. Most people would think I am strange. While I was in the hospital they asked me, I have no idea why, "Is Jerusalem the capital of Israel?" And my response was "Well Trump says it is." And they thought that was a clever answer and they let me be. I don't know why they would ask me that. I guess they knew I opposed Zionism and Judaism as a traditional Catholic, but I thought it was a strange thing to ask in a psych ward. Who the hell cares when one can not think straight and was possibly hallucinating and heavily medicated.

I love watching birds. In the hospital from my window I could not see a lot of birds but sometimes they would fly by and I would be happy. Today as I was walking to Saint Benny's there were some crows, but when my mother was driving me to get my haircut through Forest Hills Gardens I saw more crows than I have ever seen before in my life. Some were on the ground and some were flying across the street in front of our car. So many crows. Birds of ill omen. When I see crows (and black squirrels) I see them as a sign that there are a lot of devils around and that the world around me is full of wickedness. I see them as a sign. But I do not think my own soul is wicked so I do not fear. There are usually a lot of crows on the south side of Jamaica Avenue. I see them when I walk to Saint Benny's. They cackle at me. So I don't tell Julian how I go to Eucharistic Adoration and Benediction at Holy Child and Saint Benny's. He would not agree. But I love to. That is the best thing I have started doing since I got out of the hospital (something I did not do before). Perhaps I should look and find out when they have Eucharistic Adoration at all the Churches close to me so I can go as often as possible instead of only on Thursdays and Fridays. Wouldn't it be nice to look into the face of God, and to have him look into my own face, for an hour or two every day?

I pray the Rosary and now the Way of the Cross and sometimes parts of the Little Office and sometimes just looking and saying short prayers or being quiet. I prefer the quiet to any prayers, except for the Latin Mass on Sundays. But I do love the quiet so. It would be wonderful if the little mission where I go to Mass on Sundays had traditional Eucharistic Adoration and Benediction every day! I would go even every day. But we are just a Sunday Mission. I like to think about religion and about God. I do not know if anyone would find that interesting but I do. I really do. I am happy with my life now. I am content. I have peace. They say suffering makes saints. So perhaps I should pray for suffering. But I fear I will not be strong enough to bear it. Bear it away. In the peace of God. Let us pray.

My mother found me a lovely prayer. It is called The Holy Hour and it is a little booklet with a picture of Gemma on it and is a meditation on the Garden of Gethsemane as Gemma used to pray it. It was while praying it that she received the wounds in her flesh. I have been praying it on Thursday evenings. For an hour. It is a lovely prayer. I have quiet. I cannot meditate well so when the time comes I just look at the pictures of Gemma. As if one can see in her face the Crucified Christ, or at least she is so very beautiful. I have the idea that in looking at beautiful things one becomes beautiful and that in looking at ugly things one becomes ugly. So looking at holy people one becomes holy and looking at sinful people one becomes sinful. So I always look at my pictures of Gemma so that I can become like her, or worthy of her.

Going to Doctors in Old Age

Lingering on to a life
Not worth living
Till death comes.

I was talking to my mother about how she is going to all these doctors and how she could afford it. Medicare pays for it she says. I love my mother. But thinking about it I wonder how it is sustainable. If all of the fifty million old people go to doctors as frequently as she does and doctors want to make their quarter of a million a year and the insurance companies have to make their billions and the drug companies have to make their billions, and it is all paid for by the government, doesn't that seem unsustainable? I have a good doctor, but I do not know who are the greater leeches, doctors or university professors, or public employees? I am a leech myself, but I am infirm, so the leechness is not of my own making. But all of those old people contribute nothing to society according to the mind of the utilitarian (the old retired people). So they are only kept alive for nostalgia sake if one wants to be a utilitarian. I am also only kept alive for the same reason. But somebody has to pay for all of this. I only take a little, but what of the doctor who makes his quarter of a million and all of his clients are on Medicare being paid for by tax dollars? This is why I imagine pretty soon they are just going to deny care to old people to save money and let them die off in large numbers. Disabled people as well. I am not a libertarian, but sometimes I think like one. I can not decide if the world is threatened more by the governments or the big corporations, so I can not decide if it would be better to be a socialist or a libertarian. Perhaps our society has reached the point of no return as I suspect. I do not foresee an environmental catastrophe, but rather the boot stage. So far I am left alone and am able to survive for the moment. I do not have to watch television and I can be quiet and pray and they let me go to Church. I have food and shelter. I do not go to public school so I am not indoctrinated for six hours every day. I have my share of peace. But there is Twitter.

Nobody told me it would be this way. It is interesting going to benediction and adoration at the local Catholic Churches. It is mostly Spanish women. A lot of the people hold out their arms as if they can feel the grace of God flowing into their hearts from the Blessed Sacrament. There is one strange man who mumbles prayers in a low voice and often he brings a Bible to read and write in. I can recognize the Novus Odro version of the Confiteor but the rest is to me only mumbling. An old woman with a machine that makes creaking noises that helps her breath through a tube. A man with white hair who is handsome. And the beautiful Polish woman. Sometimes around noon there is a young man with black hair who reads the Breviary on his iPad. I imagine he may want to become a priest. I do not talk with the other people who go to pray. Except for the one time Christian came to talk to me. But I remember what they look like. I hope they are good people. Some of the women wear veils or hats, but not the majority. At Holy Child on Friday nights when there is Benediction, there is incense and it is usually presided over by a deacon. The Spanish deacon, when it is his turn, makes a big deal over it, praying the Rosary, giving a sermon, chanting hymns, and then the Benediction and the Divine Praises. The other deacon just does the Benediction and a prayer for vocations. I like when the Spanish deacon presides even though he prays a lot in Spanish and I cannot understand it. He seems to have the faith, or if not the faith, he believes something. With his Jesus and his demons.

God is patient
God is kind
We are always
On his mind.

One, Two, Three, Four
Someone's knocking on your door.
Five, Six, Seven, Eight
Someone's waiting at your gate.

Into the sea, Into the sea
Mother is waiting
We go to the sea.

Everyone has their beliefs that are dear to them. One of mine is the belief that God created the world as is recorded in Genesis. I get upset when other Catholics reject this, and so many do, probably most of them. I feel as if they are crucifying Christ with their infidelity and it is an infidelity that none of them recognize and they go on and act as if they still have the faith. So I see them as very dangerous to believers. Little snakes within the sanctuary. I say this because I got upset at someone online for this reason the other day. Snakes in the sanctuary. Often these snakes think they are enlightened and that those who have faith in the scriptures are ignorant little children and that they are the superior elite. They are snakes, so I got upset. A bunch of asps biting Christians like the Jews in the desert, and dragging them to eternal ruin with their venom. I am not an important person and nobody listens to me.

Our Church is now at five o'clock in the evening. It gives me a lot of time to kill during the day. So I have been visiting various Churches to pray before I go to our little mission in the upper room. It seems as if not as many people can go out after Mass to eat like we used to in the afternoon. Yesterday it was me and just one other man, instead of six or seven or eight people. I hope this does not continue as I rather enjoy the talking after Mass. The more the merrier. Next week I am looking forward to meeting an old friend from Church who has not been there for a while. So I will be happy to see him.

A Wife

Sometimes I think it would be nice if I had a wife. But I understand this is not likely. I do not think I have much value because of my condition and lack of money and the fact that I am ever getting older. Who would want to marry a schizo on disability? And how would I go about meeting people? I do not have many friends. And when I do meet people the first thing they always ask is "what do you do?" and I have to answer that I am unemployed and that ends the conversation. But on top of that is the fact that I do not want a normal wife because I do not want to have sex or children. I just want someone to talk to and love and maybe eat waffles and drink coffee together. And I have my strange ideas and unusual religious and social and moral beliefs. So it will not happen in all likely hood, but who knows with the internet everything is possible. Perhaps it is possible that I could meet a strange woman who would meet my demands and desire such a life. Perhaps a homely girl with bipolar who is also on disability and has low standards. My standards are low despite what I am looking for being queer. There are a few billion women and the internet connects half of them. But how to separate the gold from the dross?

But it does not stop me from loving women. Whenever I see a young woman I am in love with her. Especially when I see women at Church because they tend to dress nicely and not scandalously which turns me off. I just fell in love, well not really but a little bit, with the waitress at IHOP the other day. She was not pretty but she was a young woman. The one question he asked her was "can you endure a life of poverty?" and she said "yes" so he married her.

Lately I have not been feeling lonely. It does not cut me so. But it is something I sometimes dream about. A little while ago I was very lonely before my last breakdown. But that was not the reason I broke. Yet I was. So lonely. And knowing that my situation will not improve. I don't know if people have sympathy for other people. Or when someone complains they doubly condemn them as losers and as complainers. Slash my veins and drink my blood. People are wicked vipers really with no compassion. Is there any reason to wish anyone to be saved?

I do not have a lot of experience with women in my life. Apart from a few flings. I only had two girlfriends many years ago. The first I look upon favorably. I don't think she wants to talk to me anymore. The second I look upon unfavorably. But I remember being loved, or at least desired. One can say she did not have the fire of charity in her soul so it was not love, but can an unbeliever love? Do not even heathen mothers love their children? Or do they just guard them selfishly as their seed?

Someone to talk to and share my strange life with. One can think how life would be better. But if I had a real wife likely our relationship would be unhappy. I love everyone and get along with everyone but nobody depends upon me. If they did my many failings would be multiplied.

But even Cain found himself a wife, so perhaps there is hope for me. I hope I am not as cursed by God as Cain was on account of my many many sins.

Principalities and Powers

I live in a world all of my own. I am protected from the world by my family. I hope that when they leave me that I will find new protection. Perhaps a kind social worker or my brother. But currently my brother is in no place to protect me. In fact it is more like I am protecting him as I am giving him money to eat. My brother. I am as happy as I can be. Not ecstatic, but content. A quiet joy in everything I do. But that is because everything is going well for me. I am healthy, except for being insane. We have enough money to eat as always. I get to go to Church regularly to pray. The only problems are my brothers which effect my father as he is always begging from him. Strenuously because his life is falling apart.

Perhaps I will die before my parents. Or if not, I hope to find help. I get disability money, so that is something. Hopefully I would have a place to live. A wall to hang my crucifix and my Mater Dolorosa on so I could look at them as I am lying in bed. And you know what else. So I live in a world all on my own. It is strange to say what I believe. I believe in God and am a Catholic. I believe the world is controlled by principalities and powers, fallen demons who give orders to their minions, various non-believers who control us in an attempt to ensnare every soul in the world so everyone goes to Hell. But they do not have complete control because God is also there and he does not allow them to do everything they would wish to do. But he is allowing us to fall into the hands of the fallen principalities and powers because of our sins. And the sins of our parents. "His blood be upon us and our children!" is what the Jews said, but his blood is also on us. It is not all the Jews, as we are guilty as well.

I wish I was innocent. I am not innocent. My hands are stained with blood. But I recoiled in horror and am trying to be good. With some success. But I look back at my life sometimes and think of some of the bad things I did. I do not long for my sins. I hate them. I cringe at them. So I guess that means I am penitent. If there was a sinner who stopped sinning and went to confession, but he still looked back on his sins with happiness, would he go to hell? I would think so. As one must hate one's sins, or at least the worst ones.

What is the point of this blog, but to show my heart to a few people. If anyone cares they can read this. It is so strange that I doubt I have many repeat readers. It is not meant to be interesting but to be a record of my thoughts. A record that will probably not stand. If I wanted to be popular my shtick would have to be yet another traditionalist Catholic blog. There are quite a lot of them. Considering how few people go to the Latin Mass it is as if ten percent of them have blogs. I could talk about the news, how bad the idolatry in the Church is and how horrible that article by the writer in the liberal Catholic press's hit piece about the Latin Mass was. I don't think I will ever convince anyone. I pray but nobody cares about me. I have not even convinced my parents or my brother. So how will I ever convince anyone else. They do say that a prophet is never accepted in his home town. But I am not a prophet. I did have my one vision, so if I stretched the truth I could call myself a mystic, though the truth is likely that I am merely crazy. I admit it. But nobody can take my world away from me. It exists for me from the hands of God alone. And I am the only sane man in the world, yet I am crazy. Or one of a few. And I do mean that but it is probably a delusion.

So some bloggers want to be popular. I want to be an unknown outsider. I want to remember my thoughts and maybe a few others will like me. I would like to have friends.

There is one blogger I like to think of. He is a sedevacantist for those who know what that is. I once questioned his faith because he believed in evolution and he gave a response that was frankly not convincing at all. Basically saying that the "days" of Genesis could mean long periods of time. This is disingenuous because he does not believe in the proper order stated in Genesis so instead of believing in scripture but disagreeing with the meaning of the word translated as "day", he rejects the whole thing as a pious fiction. I can see no honesty in such a man (without naming him). Guile. As if one can nitpick people and call the entire hierarchy heretics while daring to believe in evolution. Evolution is a nuclear bomb to the modern man's faith and ecumenism is just a little musket fire. Lately I have even been in a geo-centrist mood, but in my mind I do not go so as some of the proud few do.

There is a woman who bought the house next door to me. She is a Spanish lady. I do not even remember her name. But she is always talking to me. She goes to therapy at the same clinic I go to. I saw her there once but I did not think it was her. She told me the other day that I was her best friend. Either she was lying or she does not have a lot of friends. She always tells me to go to the gym. I talk to her. My parents don't trust her. But what bad motive could she have for talking to me. She knows I cook for the family and like going to Church. She asks me why I don't have a girlfriend. Last time we talked I said because I am poor and because I go to the hospital. She did not offer to be my girlfriend herself. She has a young daughter in the local Catholic elementary school. If I had a girlfriend we would have to be virtuous. Two little saints. But I do not want to get married because I do not want children. Not that I do not want them, but I am not able to take care of them because I am crazy. And no good woman would want a crazy husband. Memento Mori. Is that how it is said? I am not afraid of death. Not at all. If it were to approach I would probably be afraid. Not of death, but of the pain. But probably of death as well. Memento Mori.

St. Patrick's

Went to Saint Patrick's Cathedral for an organ concert before Mass. The Lovely Helena was performing with five other organ students. I am no expert but it was nice hearing her perform. Father seems to really like her. She does conferences and performances at the big Church in Long Island and other places and he always says when she is performing so that we can go. I like her too. She seems like a nice girl. But I don't know her very well because she does not usually come out with my group to eat after Mass. It is dangerous getting to know nice young girls because when one does, then one wants to marry them. It would be nice being married to a nice young girl. When I see single women at Mass I think often how nice it would be to marry a girl like her. But then one would want you to slave away to provide for her and your children, something that I am not in a condition to do.

She plays the electric piano and sings with her sister at Mass now. And this will presumably continue to happen for as long as she is in town going to school. I believe she will be going to school for this year and next, so we have two years of nice organ music and singing. She is a special girl, so I imagine as long as she is around we will continue to have Mass at our little mission and they won't close it for lack of people.

I saw some nice malachite one decade rosary key chains but I did not acquire one. I have a full rosary so I don't need a small one. I once had a malachite five decade rosary but it fell apart when I prayed with it. The stones crumbled and fell apart like old dry soap. I saw it as a sign that I was to be numbered among the damned because a rosary of one of the lambs would never break or crumble. Sometimes I have weird thoughts. I am not alone. I remember my blind friend Julian telling me when his crucifix broke that the reason it broke was because an older woman who I greatly admire whose name means "Heart Cross" was touching it. The reason her touching it caused it to break was because she believed Benedict was the Pope at the time before he resigned. Malachite.