I Want To Live In Credemore

 There is a big tall building near the parkway that we pass when we go to long island, usually for shopping. It is a tall building and a campus of smaller buildings. It is called Creedmore. It is an insane asylum. Or that is what such places used to be called. Many of them closed down, but I believe this one is still in use for its original purpose. Nowadays most crazy people live with family and are on medications and are outpatients, and most of the rest are homeless, living on the street and being crazy all the time, not having any treatment. They yell at people in the street and beg for money which they spend on food and booze and drugs. And then there are the people in the insane asylums. I believe they closed most of them down. But Creedmore is still there. The thing is I want to live in Creedmore. My parents will not be around forever and I don't see how I would be able to take care of myself without them. Unless my brother takes me in. I could live with him if he would let me. But I want to live in Creedmore.

Away from the world where I could think to myself and be with the sane people. For the people on the inside are more sane than the people in the world. We may think we are Jesus, but we do not think we are women and have the doctors cut off our penises and give us drugs to make us grow breasts or think that those people are okay or even sane. I would not worry about the other crazy people. But there are the nurses and the doctors. I believe many of them are witches and some of them abuse the inmates. In my time in such places, and I have a limited experience of a four visits and a total of about seven weeks, the nurses were kind to me and did not abuse me. I was never struck or abused, but they might be likely to try to get me to sell my soul to the devil. I am not sure which portions of the stay were real and which were imagined. But I do remember there being witches who wanted me to sell my soul to the devil.

The last time I was there I thought I was in limbo, and then I descended into hell, and then when I got home I was happy and was in a little heaven. The world was magical. I had a friend there named Nido who helped me. He was like a teacher. I was grateful for him helping me. But after I left I have not seen him. I learned that I should put four sugars in my Cream of Wheat, not that I would ever eat that outside of a hospital. When I was there I was afraid and I wrote out the Ave Maris Stella and put it on the wall and would sing it to myself as a sign that after it was over I would go home, and then after death, to Mother Mary in heaven.

But the world is crazy now. I do not want to take any vaccine. Some are made from dead babies and some alter your DNA or RNA, or whatever it is that I can not understand. One catalog I got said it would change your DNA so that you are no longer a human. I could even see it being the Mark of the Beast, but Bishop Williamson and the Fatima Fundamentalists think we are not there yet, as they believe there will be a period of peace where Mary reigns and the Church triumphs before the great apostasy and the coming of the antichrist. So as long as the world is like it is I want to live in Creedmore with the sane people. Only the religious fanatics and the schizophrenics live in the real world. They live in the world of the spirits, serving God or the devil, not in the material world, the world of materialism. Who is closer to the truth? The bulemic saint who fasts in honor of the Blessed Mother and has visions of Jesus and Mary and is in the hospital (like K who goes to Mass at our chapel), or the man who works hard for a living, spending his free time watching television and sometimes porn when he has sex with his own hand and spills his seed on his pillow? I would rather be with K.

The only down side about living in Creedmore is that I would not be able to go to my SSPX chapel. (Though K lives in a facility where they let her out on Sundays to go to Mass). I do not think they let you out of Creedmore to go to Mass. I imagine there are Novus Ordo chaplains that serve Creedmore and maybe even sometimes say Mass. But I could call Father S, or whoever the local SSPX priest is when I finally live in Creedmore and ask him to visit me. I would be kind to him and make my confession and receive Communion kneeling and on the tongue. If I were alone in Creedmore I would hope they would let me have a Rosary and some holy books and I would pray unceasingly. I wonder how often he would visit me. I would always pray the Little Office. Creedmore is right off the highway halfway beetween the chapel in Long Island and Manhattan where Father S says Mass for the New Yorkers. So he could visit me in between sometimes. But I would pray the Rosary and the Little Office. And I would talk to the other crazy people. Maybe I could even convert some of them.

They say Ezra Pound lived in an insane asylum after World War II. I guess it was better than prison. Perhaps his lawyers argued that he had to be crazy to support Mussolini. I listen to a podcast by a man who likes Mussolini though he does not like Hitler, but he is a revisionist. He interviews Bishop Williamson who was infamous for a while for denying the supposed massacre of the Jews by Germany. A Christian should not call it by its common name because that name means a perfect sacrifice to God and as we know the true and perfect "holocaust" was Our Lord Jesus Christ on the Cross and there is no other.

So I want to live in Creedmore as long as they do not abuse me, and it would be a treat if they allowed me to be visited by a traditional priest. There is the SSPX and the SSPV and the independent chapel where they have a few priests and a Bishop. I do not trust them, but the others are fine. And there are the Ukranian priests that the sedevacantists like to go to. With the sacraments I could live in Creedmore.

My life now is no different than it would be if I were living in a mental asylum. I have nothing to look forward to, and nothing to mark the time. I have Julian to visit and if I could no longer see him I would lose a friend, but I could meet new friends in Creedmore. And maybe even friends who think that they are Jesus, or John the Baptist. I make food and I eat. I do not think that they would allow me to have a computer in Creedmore, so I would miss that. For some reason in my time in mental hospitals they were big on television, but there were no computers. Which is strange because television is insane, while computers can be used for sane things, at least for now. Who knows, perhaps in a few years the internet will be nothing but insanity and pornography. It is much worse than it was ten years ago, so in ten years, perhaps it will be nothing but a bunch of liberals and Bruce Jenner.

Now I watch shows on Youtube, but half the time the hosts have to censor themselves when discussing anything interesting. There are alternative sites but I do not know which one is best and if they are really any better.

The New World Order wants us all to be slaves and all truth will be banned. Fornication and Sodomy and Onanism a thousand times followed by an eternity of hell. Perhaps it will be Brave New World and not 1984, that has always been my thought. It is easier to make people perverts and have them as willing slaves than to make people afraid and keep them in line with torture.

I want to live in Creedmore. I hope they let me stay. Rather than live in Sodom and Gomorrah my city will soon turn into, only worse, put me in a home where the people are sane, but believe they have magical powers, rather than with the normies who think the Jews are our "elder brothers in the faith". In this world of pain. I want to live in Creedmore. The world is so insane I want nothing to do with normies. It is hard enough living with my boomer normie parents, though my dad is not greedy and takes care of mom and me so he is not as bad as some. But he is a normie boomer.

It was nice when my parents visited me the last time I was in the hospital. When I am in Creedmore, maybe my brother will visit me. My parents would probably be dead before I go there. But it would be nice to be visited by my brother. We could talk about life. Maybe by then he will have a family. I don't think he wants to get married or have children, so he life is as meaningless as mine. But he is still my brother and I love him and he is not a normie.

So maybe in a few years I will be there after mom and dad die. I would rather be there than on the street. As long as they don't torment me or try to make me sell my soul to the devil. I could say my prayers and read books and have a nice life in a little room with a bed and a little desk in the corner.

Stolen Car And Cancer.

 My father had surgery for cancer in his kidney. They removed a third of one of his kidneys.

My brother drove here from Philly to be with us. Someone stole his car. My brother has bad luck. Bad things always happen to him.

Went to Church today. Ed told me Tom is in the hospital.

Just to remember. My own life is grand.

No Therapy

My therapy was cancelled yesterday. So my day was an off Monday. Who can you trust? What if everyone is a devil? What if everyone you see on the street, in this beautiful New York City has sold his soul to the devil?

There are a lot of AA meetings in my area. There are four chapters within a few blocks of my house. There are a lot of alcoholics and former alcoholics. I liked going, and they gave me a book and told me to go in the hospital, but I stopped going because it was too cultish. And then I asked my father if I should go back and he said "no." I have enough religion from Church. At my Church in our little upper rented room, we used to be across the hall from a local AA chapter. And we had a little book for sale that condemned AA as a demonic cult. Then our priest told us to stop selling the book because he thought AA was not bad, or perhaps he did not want to scandalize the alcoholics. There is another man who I met at Church who I learned was a drug addict and an alcoholic who used to go to AA. Everyone has tried to help him, but he is too captured by the demons.

Let you know I believe the demons are very powerful. I think my own problems are caused in large part by the demons. I used to talk about them every week at therapy. It used to be worse when my torments were new. I was in despair. And I prayed, and it got better. In July I had an episode again. I think it was because I did something bad and sinned. At the time I thought I was doing something good, but it was bad and I should have known better. So the demons took me back for a while. But I survived and now I feel better. When I was spazzing out my parents took me to my therapist and my psychiatrist. I do not remember the meeting but my therapist told me I was speaking with an evil voice. Because I think I was possessed by the demons. They make it hard for me to think because I have scars. My problems all started when I decided to start praying. The demons were in me already, but they just lead me on in to sin. And when I started praying and decided to try to stop sinning, the demons manifested themselves and did not want to let go of me. So they tormented me and when I persisted they hurt me. And they made me crazy with my schizo. My crazy goes off and on now. It is usually off, but my mind was broken by the demons and by the struggle, so while I am safe most of the time, my mind is broken. I can no longer think with my mind. To explain it, I cannot see pictures in my mind anymore. And I can not meditate or imagine.

So I have my demons. I feel fine now. And everyone around me has sold their soul to the devil. This whole world is damned.

But God is more powerful than the demons. They are nothing to him. But why is everyone so bad? Why is everyone so ugly?

I had a delusion that everyone was a soul on a string and the devil held the strings and controlled everyone. That everything that everyone did was a work of the devil, and no one had any freedom, they were all souls on a string. Or souls in chains, and nothing that they did was a free act. And I thought what if I was ensnared in such a way, and I fell into despair. Now I seem free. I try to be good. I do not do anything heroic, but I try to be good in a little way. I try not to sin. I like to go pray. And I think pious thoughts. I go to Church to be with Jesus. I look at Our Lady of Guadalupe and pray the Rosary and I have my little devotions. I am not a secret pervert. I used to be unrepentant but now I am sorry for my sins. Am I then still a soul on a string?

Saint Valentine's Day

Today my father got two stents. The surgery if you could call it that was in Mount Sinai Hospital on the upper east side. The head doctor was an Indian. I went in to the city with my father and mother but I left early, before the surgery because I was nervous and stressed. And a little bored I must admit. It was breaking my routine and my reaction was a sign of my weakness. I went home and felt fine soon after. And went to Eucharistic Adoration and prayed and ordered pizza for us and now I am on the computer.

But today is Valentine's Day. I was talking to Julian the other day and I mentioned this day for some reason and he corrected me twice. He said "SAINT Valentine's Day". So it is. I am alone but I am happy enough so I am not sad. I have no one to be my valentine. It would be nice to have a wife but considering my condition and my sensibilities and desires it will likely never happen. I remember the movie by Tarkovsky where the man goes to bed with the witch named "Maria" to save the world from a nuclear holocaust. I have to watch that movie again, though I preferred Andrei Rublev. My brother told me to watch it. Why? Does someone want to make a deal? Is there a witch who wants to go to bed with me so the devil can grant favors? Like me, the ambulance takes him away to the nut house, and our house also burned down, though I did not set the fire, and it was not so vast or so beautiful. The internet says that the first time they burned down the house with the camera rolling the camera malfunctioned so they lost the footage and had to rebuild the house and burn the house down again, and the second burning is in the film. "In the beginning was the Word."

So it looks like my father is okay after getting the stents. He should be home tonight. Tomorrow I hope to go into the city to see Cardinal Zen say a High Mass. And then Sunday, the best day of the week. I hope to live. I am alive. The living, the living will give praise to Thee as I do this day. I like that prayer. Things are looking up and there are little birds flying. I did not speak about it but yesterday after Benediction I was walking down 118th street and as I always do, I saw the grackles hanging out. There were dozens of them again and I watched them for a few minutes and listened to them. As dad said they are a spiritual presence. I always see them when I go to the beggar's Church on the south side of the avenue. I am not afraid. Peace be to you all. Now it is almost time to go to the blessing!

I Want To Go Back To Therapy

I do. I really do. I am supposed to go to group therapy once every two weeks for an hour. It is socialization with other people. We talk about our problems. With the group I do not feel I can be as open as I would with individual therapy. I can not talk about everything because I do not want to make the other patients uncomfortable. But I like going there to talk. Outside of mom and dad and Church friends it is my only socialization. I stopped going to AA because I thought it was a preternatural cult. But I wish it were not in my eyes a preternatural cult so I could continue to go there and talk to the alcoholics. I came to the conclusion also that by AA standards I was not an alcoholic. So if I were to get up and talk and introduce myself and say: "Hello, I am Matthew, and I am an alcoholic" I would be lying because I do not have that demon badly enough to claim the title honestly. My father told me I could not get a sponsor so I can not go all in to AA anyways while obeying my father. It seems the deep stuff requires having a sponsor and revealing one's soul to your sponsor in an even deeper way than a Catholic reveals his soul to his priest confessor, or even more than a monk reveals his soul to his elder abbot.

But I want to go back to therapy. The reason I am on my own now is because my therapist is having a health problem. She did not reveal what kind of problem it was and how long she will be out for and we were not given a substitute therapist. I think we are considered "stable crazies". Our therapist is young and seems healthy except that she is very fat. But I have only been there two or three times since I was released from the hospital in late July. I miss the people there. I wonder if they miss me. I am not going schizo again, I just have my normal semi-sane brokenness about me. Able to function at a low level. I am either broken or psychotic now. You get used to it.

There is a man who comes in to Church and he seems crazy like me. He breathes loudly. When I first saw him I thought he was disrespectful because he was wearing a baseball cap in Church. If you do not know, in Church men are supposed to not wear hats and women are supposed to cover their heads. Starting in the sixties the women all rebelled while the men continued to follow the rules for the most part. But today he came in to pray and I saw him and he bowed down before the altar in a profound way and kissed the floor before the altar. What respect he showed. More than most people, more than I as I merely genuflect. It made me think he really believes and just did not know to not wear a hat in Church. He makes noises and talks to himself and breathes heavily. But he seems to go to Church regularly to pray before God. I saw him there twice and hope to see him more.

I wonder if he goes to therapy like I do. They are kind of like friends, the people in therapy. I hope to see them again soon and then regularly again like we used to before our therapist got sick.

I am a very lucky person. I have a family to help take care of me. I can only imagine how I would fare if I were on my own. I love them even though we are not the same.

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.