The Fly

 

Today is Friday. I go to Eucharistic Adoration and Benediction at the local Church. In case Jesus is still there, I go to honor Him. At three I pray the stations in front of the monstrance and then I pray the Rosary. Fifteen decades. There is the fly. The devil comes to bother me for a few moments, buzzing around my ears. I finish praying and go home. At six thirty I go for Benediction. I pray and think and meditate and pray. The fly returns. The devil buzzes around me ears. To and fro, here and there. Just before the ceremony begins, the fly lands on my right hand. I feel him. I do not move. Then the fly goes away, the devil buzzes around my ears. I look at Jesus, if Jesus is still really there. I think He is. Julian does not. Julian once told me that his mother used to go to Benediction and one time she told him that when she looked at the monstrance she did not see the face of Jesus, but instead she saw the face of the devil. I think Jesus is there. But if he is not the devil can not harm me. I am not afraid of the devil. Sometimes I fear God's justice. That I have sinned so much that I cannot be forgiven. But usually I am fine. I pray to Jesus and to Mary and to Gemma.

Being visited by flies as I pray in the Church is a recurring theme. It is never a fly. It is the devil. The Lord of the Flies. He wants to distract me or to make me afraid.

It is something I have been doing since I got out of the hospital. I do not like the Novus Ordo. But I think it is valid. So Jesus is really there. So if I go before Jesus in the tabernacle it is good. And I keep Him company. In the Novus Ordo there are not that many who have the true faith and love Jesus. So I will love Him. But I do not want to go the the Novus Ordo Mass because I think it is bad. So I walk the line. Cross myself as I pass the Church, and genuflect before the tabernacle.

My uncle George is a Russian Orthodox. But he belongs to a strict Church. He is not in Communion with most of the other Churches in Orthodoxy. We went to his granddaughter's baptism at a monastery and he spoke about how he sung at the ceremonies but did not go to Communion because he was not in Communion with the monastery where his granddaughter was baptized. And he thought the schism was getting out of hand and it would be better if all the sects would be in Communion with each other. But not under Rome. It seems all the Orthodox share a distrust of the Pope and Rome.

My uncle's mother just died. She was orthodox. EENS. So she is in hell most likely. I heard on one of the forums that the Orthodox do not have their own version of EENS, so they hold that those outside of orthodoxy might be saved. But they are territorial and prone to schism. Charles Coulombe says that In the West we will accept any amount of heresy but no schism, but in the East they will accept any amount of schism but no heresy. And both halves of what should be the one united Church are meant to be corrective of each other's tendencies. Mithrandylan once said on one of the forums that he used to watch all of Charles Coulombe's lectures with Professor Biersach and he watched hours and hours and he thought they were enlightening, but later on after he became a more knowledgeable Catholic, that he couldn't think of a single important thing he learned from those lectures.

It is the devil. The fly. I do really believe in the devil. I do not want to be a witch but I believe they are real. I do not know what powers witches have, but I think their powers are increased greatly now that there are so few good Christians and so many abortions. As man abandons God, God abandons the people to the witches and the vampires. I do wonder if the end of the world is near. I think it is. But Tom says that the Garabandal warning will come first. But Joey Lomangino died blind. And then the Consecration of Russia and then the period of peace and only then the end of the world. I am not so hopeful. I fear the end is nigh. And the antichrist is here and the mark of the beast is the vaccine or something related to it. I told Tom that I would give him twenty dollars if the Warning happened while we were still alive and together in this valley of tears. The warning. What would you do if you could see the state of your soul as it was before the judgement seat of Jesus Christ? Would you go to confession? Or would you hate God even more. I fear many will hate God even more.

So I am home and tomorrow we are going to the orthodox funeral to pay our respects. In this world of pain. I saw a fly and he landed on my right hand in Church as I was looking at Jesus.

A Woman

I find it is easier for me as a man to love a woman than to love a man. So I find it more natural to love Mother Mary than to love Jesus. Or even to love a lesser creature, my Gemma. I love Jesus also, but I do not feel it as much. As much as I love Our Mother or my Gemma.

This is a strange picture that I really like. It is so very strange, but I like strange things. It reminds me of The Glories of Mary. I just finished talking with Julian a few minutes ago. My best friend. He is sad because he lost his favorite aide at the nursing home. Her name is Latoya.

I am listening to an interview with a very young priest of the SSPX who is about to become the District Superior of Canada. It just started. I hope it is good. It is how I am spending my evening tonight. He looks younger than me. But he went through schooling. Right now they are going into Baptism of Desire type ideas in relation to separated brethren and partial communion.

I lately have been praying more. I should pray even more. I love praying. But I might get tired of it if I did it too much. I have vague wishes that I were a monk. Something which is not possible because of my infirmities. But I would love to be a brother in some little monastery somewhere where they prayed the old office and Mass. There are not a lot of them so they can be picky. No crazies. I can be like Saint Benedict Joseph Labre. A crazy who loves God very much. 

Often I look at pictures of a girl named Danica. She posts pictures and videos of herself smoking cigarettes on Instragram. I used to know her and had a big crush on her. A penny for the world. I would rather have. A penny for the world. The interview is interesting. A little girl.

Tomorrow I am going to the indult Mass again. It is better than no Mass. A long time ago I was of the opinion that one should not go to the indult Mass but it was okay to go to the Eastern Rites. But now after four months of no Mass I am okay with the indult. They are compromised priests I guess. But as I think they are valid, Jesus is really there.

The Belle of My Heart. The interview. The interviewer is trying to square the circle of magesteriums. I do not know if it is true, but I once heard that the idea of the "magisterium" and the "ordinary magisterium" was invented by a supposedly conservative theologian who happened to have sexual affairs with nuns in the times of Pius IX. Brides of Christ. 

The times are fleeing. The interviewer is talking about Athanasius Schneider who he interviewed, that is high profile. And now he is asking about it. The priest is trying to defend themselves. Comparing Lefebvre to St Thomas More. The interviewer is sympathetic to the priest, talking about how the sodomites are all accepted but only the SSPX are reviled.

So the milk of Mary. I do not know. The Belle of My Heart. I do not know. To love her I know, but all I want is . . . .

After Mass today we ate. Mom and dad came, Mom went to Mass with me. On the way back to the car a crazy black woman started yelling at me. She said something like "Do you own the Duane Reade? Do you won the Walgreens. No! You ain't own nothing." Then she walked away. I had no idea what she was yelling at me about or why she was yelling.

Simeon

"Listen to me. It is in silence that I speak to souls. Those who flee silence will never hear my voice. Encourage silence and practice it yourself with a renewed dedication, for it is in silence that the Holy Spirit descends, and it is in silence that He works in souls, bringing them to holiness of life, and to the perfection that I desire for each one."

So I finished reading my book, In Sinu Jesu. It was a nice read. I will read it again. It was not the best book I have ever read. The main point of the book was that Jesus likes it when we go to pray before the Blessed Sacrament and that if more people do so with love, the Church will grow strong again. I wish there were more to it, a journal of around 260 pages, but it was comforting to read.

In these times of peace and of calamity I am feeling well for myself. Because of my family I have peace. Without them I would be sad. But none of them listen to me. I am the only believer (well my mother believes a somewhat but not as crazily as I do). Often I think to myself that I am alone. I am the only person I know who wants to love God, and everyone else in my life is a devil worshiper. And I am probably a devil worshiper myself, but am fooling myself. I don't know. But nobody listens to me.

I do not understand why the Novus Ordo exists. I wish it would be wiped off the face of the earth. It is like drinking poison that does not taste good. I consider it valid. But not in a good way. Valid as if a priest walked in to a bakery and pronounced the words of consecration over the bread there and then walked home. Some may say it must be good because it comes from the Church. I don't know. Perhaps Julian is right and it is just bread, or even the body of the devil.

"It's good to be inspired by the saints and by others. Sometimes it's good to imitate some of their actions or devotions. But you are not them, you are you. You are called to be holy in a way no one else is, even if certain things are similar."

This is a quote from a Catholic twitter personality. It reminds me of Saint Simeon Stylites who lived as a hermit atop a pillar and was later copied by other hermits. Imagine walking from one city to the next and seeing three Catholic hermits living on top of pillars, spending their lives in prayer and loving God until they were struck by lightning.

So am I fooling myself? Am I a fool. I want to be good. Am I beyond redemption? Is it too late? I know I have done bad. But am I beyond salvation? Am I alive? Or am I dead, being a corpse who only thinks he is alive, but is being animated by necromancy beyond all hope of redemption? Am I a zombie. I don't know. Cry? When crazy I remember I thought I was a vampire and that my parents had turned me into a vampire. Imagine thinking that while being schizo. I have crazy fits sometimes.

I was disappointed today (Saturday). I went to the local Church for Eucharistic Adoration, but it was not to be. Instead they had the vigil Novus Ordo, which I do not like. I must call the office to see when they have EA and benediction now which I love. I would be happy if I had a traditional Mass, daily, with benediction every night. But I am happy enough.

Today is Sunday (I started writing this yesterday) Went to the indult with mom. A high Mass. I saw some people I knew but did not speak to them today. Mom lit a lot of candles. I hope our SSPX Mass comes back soon in our little rented room.

I decided to stop praying the Rosary in Latin, and go on praying it in English. It seems more humble that way. I should be littler.

Just because I love her, this is my favorite Holy Card. Last year I printed out ten of them and gave them to friends from Church and my brother.

Girls

I think a lot about life. My life is happy. I have my routines. During the pandemic I have become a drunkard. Not literally. But I have gone against the AA teaching that one can never have a drink because it will always lead to the loss of the soul to the demons of the liquor. But who are the important people in my life? I titled this post "girls" because I like girls. I have no girl in my life. I am insignificant. There is not a girl in this world who cares about me or who shows me favor.

There are girl saints in heaven who I communicate with. And I have a girl who used to be my muse for a while but we never talk, though she posts things online. But no girl thinks about me always, loves me, and cares for me and would be sad if I died today.

I am an old man and I am poor. It is good that I am happy with little, because I will never have more.

But it is strange. In late 2018 and early 2019 I had my muse who I thought about and wrote my stories about and obsessed over, though not with lust, but that is over and now I only have the saints.

It has been a long time since I have been to Mass, so I do not see the lovely Helena and the beautiful Cecilia and the other girls at Church. I hope to see them again soon. We are not friends, as I am with Julian and angry Tom, but I love seeing them with grace.

I think a lot about life. It is good that there are so many birds. I could be happy even with only sparrows and pigeons, the ugly rock doves. There is something beautiful about birds. When I think about animals, and how animals are beautiful and people are ugly. It has to be because animals are innocent and people are defiled with sin. A sinful man should be uglier than any animal, while a just man should be more beautiful than any animal. For those with eyes to see. I say this as a schizophrenic whose first fall into craziness was to think I could see peoples' sins and was repulsed by them. Perhaps it is a gift and not a delusion.

If you want to be my friend, please send me a message. I could use more friends. I have a couple of friends and then there are other people. To have someone to save you or someone for you to save. In this world of pain. Gemma is my friend, but she has never visited her. I only love her and hope she loves me. And I never hear a word from my muse, but that is on the razor's edge. And Mellonie, I don't think she wants to talk to me anymore. I am dust to her. But I love the good God. Happy birthday.

Regina Coeli

Remember, O Most gracious Virgin Maria, that never was it known that anyone who ever fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession was left forsaken. Inspired by this confidence I fly unto thee O Virgin Maria. To thee I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate despise not my petitions, but in thy clemency hear me and answer me. Amen.

I got mail today. The March / April issue of The Epoch Times. "Truth and Tradition". I never bought it. They just got my address and mailed one to me, hoping I would like it and subscribe. I see ads for their paper on Youtube. They seem to be anti-communist. I believe they are owned by members of the Falun Gong religion that is suppressed by the Chinese government. From the ads, they seem to be right-leaning and conspiratorial. I will read it and see if it is good, but will not subscribe. I also got the Regina Coeli report. It is about seeing God in nature. There is a picture of cute children looking at a praying mantis and another picture of a cute girl holding a monarch butterfly on her hand and cute children looking at it in awe. I have been seeing God in nature. In the mourning doves and the sparrows. A few butterflies and bees but there will be more of them in a month or two.

For what it's worth. Our family is holding up together during the quarantine. We do our things and come together in the evening for dinner. Mom has me lead the blessing before meals. I enjoy cooking. Especially making soup. I enjoy making soup more than perhaps any other kind of food. I save the scraps of the onions and the carrots and the celery we use and the stems of the parsley and keep them in the freezer until I have a big bag and I boil them until the broth is brown. Sometimes I add chicken, and of course some bay leaves and salt, maybe some thyme. We had a turkey for Mother's Day so my brother wants me to boil the carcass into turkey stock. Why not? Would that work? Why not? What type of soup would that be?

I really like watching vespers at noon. Really listening as there is nothing to watch, just a dozen monks standing and singing in a bare room. But the singing is very calming. Even though I do not know enough Latin to understand most of their prayers. I know it is vespers. Lately they are chanting the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary near the end.

For three Sundays in a row my father drove me to Holy Innocents in the city. They have the Church open with the Blessed Sacrament exposed. So I like to go and look at Jesus. He looks at me. My favorite prayer is just looking at Jesus in the monstrance. And at home I look at my pictures of Gemma. You become like the things and the people you look at. So if you are always looking at Jesus you become like Jesus. If you are always looking at pictures of Gemma you become like Gemma. If you are always looking at the devil's tabernacle you become like the devil. I don't see how anyone can save his soul while watching television. Even if all he watches is EWTN. I recently read an account of a miracle and a conversion. Someone was watching television trying to go to the pornography channel but instead he saw Mother Angelica. He kept changing the channel and no matter what channel he went to he saw Mother Angelica. And he started listening to her and he converted and became a Catholic. But you become like what you look at. So take custody of your eyes and only look at the good and the beautiful. Or if you do look at the ugly and the wicked, be careful to look at the good before and after to prepare yourself and to heal. An hour or two in front of Jesus in the monstrance can last a whole week! Who needs to receive Communion in your mouth if you can receive Him with your eyes!

I feel like I am benefiting from the quarantine spiritually. I appreciate Jesus more now that he is hidden from me. I cannot go to Communion, but I can love Jesus in the world and invisibly where I know He is in the Church that is locked, and then once a week where I can see Him, even though I can not receive Him. One only has to receive Jesus one time in one's life and it can last and give graces forever. Mary of Egypt repented of her sins and went to confession and received Communion one time and fled into the desert. She lived alone for fifty years and became the greatest of saints because of that one Communion. And then God sent a priest to her in the desert and he gave her one last Communion and on the day she received Him she died and went to heaven. If one receives often one would think one would become holier, but often one becomes complacent. I think I am better off now being unable to receive. I feel I am doing better and being nicer. And I am praying more and helping out my family more and doing what I am told. I am one of those Jansenists who think people receive Communion too often and that it would be better if Communion happened privately and not during Mass when everyone feels pressured to go up whether or not they are well disposed. One can say, well Pope Pius X was a saint and he promoted frequent Communion so it must be good, but as soon as he promoted it the Church fell apart and many of her members descended into depravity. But I am not really a Jansenist. I once was one, I believe. For at times in my despair While I was a new convert and the devil was attacking me and burning me I felt as if I was a sinner and that I had no free will but everything I did was controlled by the devil and I could do no good no matter what because the devil was pulling my strings. I guess that is one of the Jansenist ideas.

Of all the things I hope happen because of the quarantine, I hope people will appreciate Jesus more in the Eucharist, and Church in general. And I hope people will become less materialistic. BUt that is not likely if they watch the devil's tabernacle or netflix. Oh well. My parents have a television in our house. I hate it. I never watch it. Sometimes they leave it on after they leave the living room and I turn it off.

My mother does not like classical music. When we go in the car I like putting on one of the two classical music stations but she was complaining today and turned it off. How can someone not like classical music? It was a good song too, I don't know the name, but it was beautiful. It is probably because she watches television.

I feel often like I am alone. I am a sheep but where is the shepherd? I see Jesus in the monstrance, He is my shepherd. But He is my Godly shepherd, where is my human shepherd. I go to Church and at Church there is a priest, Father S who hears my confession. Yes, he is my shepherd. But I am alone now. He is not saying Mass. He called me twice and I was happy to speak with him, but he has never visited my house with Jesus.

When I watch the monks sing the office every day at noon, sometimes I wish I was with them. I live with my family and my mind is broken so I can not join them and if I did I am sure there would be struggles, but it seems like a nice life. To be taken care of and to be always before Jesus. These monks pray before the monstrance often. They are Benedictines who wear black habits. I do not know what kind of work they do but I like reading their blog and listening to them chant.

I hope people become less materialistic. Money is the ring. Greedy people. I do not need many things. I have a computer and my pictures of Gemma, and I need a little food, and I like coffee and diet soda and beer. That is a lot of things already. But I feel happy. I do not need a lot of money. I would be happy to live a completely subsistence lifestyle where I was not in danger of starvation, but had no excess, and just lived a quiet, happy life, as I do now. I am so lucky to have my family to help take care of me.

While I was walking today I saw a young girl about seven or eight years old wearing shorts and a tee shirt. She was twerking, if that is the right word. I looked at her face. She looked like she was very cold. Such a young one.

When I was at fire Island this summer we were in my uncle's house and they saw the rocket man, a man who flew up in the air from the sea on a rocket of propelled water and they watched him fly. My father took a video. Rocket man.

Silly Thoughts

Her biography says that she rarely bathed and never used soap but always had a nice fragrance coming from her body. A thought that everything bad that comes from us is not because of nature but because of sin. If one has a strong body odor it is because one is a sinner. The reason teenagers have a lot of acne is because at that time the youth are introduced into the world of sexual sins after their innocent childhood. How far does it go?

There is a man who is a hermit who worships at the shrine of St. Francis in Assissi. He went to Mass often and received the sacraments and by all accounts he was a good holy man. He was old but looked good and had smooth skin. Reading about him, someone commented on how young he looked even though he was in his late seventies and the response was that right worship does marvels for the body and the immune system. I look at pictures of the Little Flower while in her convent, in her youth, before her fatal illness, and she looked like a beautiful young marshmallow. She looked so pure. And so do people who are good.

I think of the animals and how when they go poop they do not need toilet paper but it comes out clean. It should be the same for good people. Only sin leads to uncleanness and rottenness. A pure man would not have pimples, because a spoiled face is a punishment for sin. He should always look pure and clean unless the Lord has chosen him for chastisements like holy Job.

But I am being silly. None of this is true, just ridiculous thoughts I am having because I am crazy.

For what it's worth. But humans are such sinful creatures, would that we are pure and beautiful as the paintings of Fra Angelica and worthy of the grace of God, a grace which we all need and some of us desire. I was looking at pictures. People are so ugly. Devils or statues. People have no soul in their eyes. Their eyes are black holes.

But I am a proud man. I think highly of myself. I think I am a nice man and that God is somewhat happy with me and that I have grace and the Holy Spirit is living in my soul. I wish I could go to Church more. My skin is nice and soft. I have peace and am happy with the world. I look at pictures. Of her, who I love.

On Monday my therapist will be calling and I hope my friend Julian calls me and maybe some of my other friends. I do not know a lot of people. I know God. I know Him. And He is above all people. I have her. I love her and pray for her but I am nothing to her. But I love her.

In eternity all the bad in this world will be made up for, if you are numbered among the lambs. I am not afraid of death, I told my brother today. But the world is terrifying. I think of her a lot. And my Gemma. There is a lull in my days between 4 PM and 6 PM where I have nothing to do. The rest of my day is good and pure. My pandemic routine.

My brother wants me to become a stock investor. I could study and learn how to invest and become rich off of my tiny disability checks. For what it's worth. I love her but am nothing to her. But I love Gemma and I know she loves me. All the love I have for her is paid back a thousand times. My sweet love.

Like I said before, I am happy with my investment in a selection of holy cards of Gemma with third class relics in them. The pictures are pretty, because her soul was pure and pure souls are beautiful to look at. She was a little angel. I do not know anyone alive who was like her but the thought of her makes me happy. I hope to one day meet her in heaven. I believe in heaven. Life is nothing. I want to die soon.

So My Life Is Happy Now . . .

So My Life Is Happy Now. I am being bad today. I am having some beer. For the quarantine, to relieve stress I am indulging in alcohol once or twice a week. It is a preventative measure. I have been happy. You know how my life has been. I have my prayers and my walks and dinner and then to bed. I give a tithe of my time to the good God. Since I got out of the hospital in late July I have been pious for me. And very happy. I am happy for my family. But life is frightening. I worry that the devil has got me. That my soul is lost because of my sins. That I have no hope. But they say to "Never despair of God's Mercy." Witchcraft. But I never signed anything in my blood. Mrs. Greenblood was her name.

I was in the car with my father and "Like a Rolling Stone" was playing and when he squealed out "As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes And say do you want to make a deal" and I thought that was Dylan singing about how he sold his soul to the devil for fame and fortune and I wondered if my fate was the same as Dylan's. I do believe that most people who are famous have made deals with the devil. That is the price you pay to make it big. Even to make it little. I have made nothing. My life is very simple for American standards, though it is above the level of the homeless man. I have no resources, but no desires. So for all it is I am content. Mrs. Greenblood. Even the homeless man can look up at the sky, listen to the songbirds, and watch the seagulls, and the bees and the butterflies are coming soon. Such beauty is given to all, even in the big city. Acetylene. To cast oneself into the sea to drown at twelve noon on one's thirty-third birthday.

I can understand suicide. If one thinks one is damned and cannot stop sinning. If one is in despair, then suicide will end the length of ones' sins. So that if one ends it the eternal suffering will be less than if one lived a full length of days and continued to sin. But to face that eternity. Even if it would be better to end it than to live. A few years of alcoholism seem better than facing hell just right now even if overall the suffering would be far less.

There must be a lot of people in despair. I wonder. I fear I am among them, but I like piety and thinking about God. Is that all a ruse? Am I among the damned as well? As I feared when listening to Dylan's song? I have little attachment to sin. I do not lust. I could give up the little pleasure of a bit of beer if I had to and I do not drink to drunkenness. I am content. If I do go to hell, I want to love God a little now before I am damned and have a little happiness in my piety for a while. I have no doubts, thought I wrote about doubts in my stories. Everything is real and Jesus lives. Angels and demons. And those who have made a deal. But one can repent. I guess a lot of people believe but hate God so much that they do not want to repent. They would rather be with the devil and suffer than love God in heaven and be happy. The witches. Am I a witch then? My brother once said to his friend "we ruled the world". I don't want to rule the world. I only want to be one of Gemma's thousand friends in heaven. And perhaps know the good God. I cannot imagine that. I can imagine being friends with a beautiful girl.

The most beautiful living girl alive who I know is the beautiful Cecilia. I speak about how most people who I see look ugly as sin, but Cecilia looks beautiful as innocence. Remember how my delusion and the first thing that came to me as part of my craziness was the thought that I could see people's sin and that everyone was a horrible sinner. I hope she finds a good husband and lives a happy life and goes to heaven when she dies. And then there is the lovely Helena who plays the organ. I miss going to Church. It has been a month or so. I told Terry about my little devotion. The one I pray for me and my two friends who I love. The Hail Marys. Just a short post. God Bless You. I may purchase an Icon of St. Mary of Egypt to pray before. She is an important saint to me. Babylon.

Bleeding From The Next

The days are bleeding from one to the next. The girl is still here. And my brother.

I really miss going to Church. I want to go to Holy Innocents for Eucharistic Adoration and prayer but mom and dad don't want me going on to the subway.

I pray at home in my basement, my old and current bedroom. I do not have my Mother of Sorrows by El Greco or my Florentine Crucifix with the Apostles. Now the girl has them. I wonder if she ever looks at them. They are blessed. The Crucifix by my SSPX priest and the Blessed Mother by the local Bishop. When I gave it to him to bless he said "El Greco."

I try to pray a lot. Usually kneeling, sometimes sitting. Sometimes speaking out loud, sometimes mouthing the words. When I wake up, at noon, at three, at six, at night, before bed. On my first walk. The Little Office, the Rosary, short morning and night prayers and the Office of the Dead for an old friend. It is good. I probably pray for a little while and then live.

I have little to do other than my prayers. I go to stores when we need food. I go on my walks. I read a few Catholic websites and look at Instagram. While I pray I often look at pictures of Gemma. I do not have many friends. Some of my Church friends send me text messages or call me on the phone.

I am happy with my life, but I worry about the world's salvation. I like to pray but nobody prays with me. I hope I have peace until I die, hopefully soon, or if not soon, I hope to have peace until the time comes. I am content.

Since the corona virus descended upon us I have been drinking beer. Once or twice a week. I do not think it is a sin because I do not drink too much. But it calms my nerves. I am a weak sinner. Even the monks drank wine under saint Benedict.

One thing I often think about is my strange delusion. The delusion of seeing sin in peoples' faces. That sinfulness can be discerned by looking at people. I cannot judge it. But it haunts me. Probably it is not true, but just most people are ugly. Who knows. I think I look good but who am I to judge. Maybe just most people look like devils. But to think of it. Why do most animals look beautiful, at all times and conditions, but most people look ugly? Why else, except that only humans can sin, and most humans are wicked, the fewness of the saved. We are created by the same God as animals. I have never seen an ugly mourning dove but most of the humans I see are ugly other than innocent children. But then one can think of the ugly animals, like water bugs and cockroaches, as not all animals are beautiful.

Someone was complaining about the lack of charity of supposed Catholics. I know, we argue and complain like sinners. What am I to do? I hope I am not uncharitable, but for sure, I probably am. I try to be good and justified, but the fault is mine, is mine, is mine.

I say often, "Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa" though I wonder if everyone is trying to catch me in a snare. To say to me "Aha! Aha! You are a hypocrite! Aha!"

To think of things. Often I think everyone has sold his soul to the devil, who is not actively trying to be good. In their hearts, if not in their heads. Either me or the devil or God, and mostly me or the devil.

I really like my little prayer cards with pictures of Gemma. The best purchase I have made, even better than my Little Office. I can look at them and see my beautiful girl and the mark of the Crucifixion forever and ever.

I do want to be an honest man. But how can I abide in this world? In this world?

I do not hate myself, for God made me. I hate my sins, but I have been trying to be good for a while. I know my try is not good enough. But I am not despairing. My try. I hope to give my God my tithe and hope it is enough on the last day, when the good God judges the world by fire, the world by fire.

Gemma's Feast Day

I was just reminded that it is Gemma's feast day today. I don't think she is important enough to have her own Mass, but today is her day.

The Iron Crown of Lombardy

This is lovely holy card. I do think so. I have my trinkets and my pictures. I like looking at them. She is my favorite saint, you know. My sweet love. She is a friend. I Hope to meet her one day. I am always talking to her. She has never visited me in a vision or a dream. But once I had a dream about her. I spoke to her in a dream, but I did not see her. When I remember, at night before I go to bed I pray to her and one of my prayers is to ask her to visit me in my dreams and for me to remember her. The prayer has not yet been answered.

This is another holy card I love. I printed out ten copies and distributed them to my brother and my friends at Church. And I put one on the wall of my bedroom. Which one do you think is more beautiful? Gemma was the most beautiful girl who ever lived other than the Blessed Mother. Even if you do not agree, it is true to me.

The Iron Crown of Lombardy. The legend is that it is made in part from one of the nails used in the crucifixion of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

I am so happy to have all my holy cards of Gemma. They are among my precious relics (and eight of them contain third class relics of my dear one, third class relics being things that have been touched to first class relics, so they are like a holy contagion). I have my crucifix and my sorrowful mother, which are in the girl's room now. And I have my pictures of Gemma. They are better than the Bible. And I have my Rosaries. And I have my missals and my holy books.

I do miss going to Church for the Latin Mass. And talking to my friends after Mass. And going to Eucharistic Adoration and Benediction at the local Catholic parishes. I am an odd person. I don't know anyone who is like me in their beliefs and practices. But I have friends who are similar, but not the same. Nobody would approve of me, but I try to do what is right.

I am listening to a podcast of sorts with Charles Coulombe on Sensus Fidelium. He asked how come Churches are not essential, but abortions are essential? He said other things also. I like him a bit. I don't really agree with anyone, including him, but he is from LA. I guess. I used to watch his Tumblar House Off the Menu talks, but I got disillusioned with him after a while. The general tendency to think that anyone who has any relevance in the world is compromised. The thought that to become famous you have to be a hypocrite. They say modern man has little tolerance for hypocrisy. I don't know. Judge not, but judge justly. I love you, Gemma, please pray for me. All I want is to be with you forever.

Nodody loves me. I hope Gemma loves me. I hope God loves me. They always say He loves everyone, but He hated Esau. Maybe I am another Esau. Maybe my family loves me. I don't know. They don't understand me. How I want to go to Church sometimes and sometimes drink beer. I don't know. 

I wonder if aurora loves me. Does she know who I am? Does she see me through the glass when I feed her? I am fond of aurora, perhaps I even love her. I love you aurora. I am watching her swim around the tank and do what I think she loves to do more than anything else, other than eating, because she is often doing it, picking up the green gravel into her mouth and spitting it out. I do not know why she does this. Perhaps there is some algae growing on the gravel that she eats or something.

I just changed the filter for the fish tank. It was the last one. So now I will have to buy more. I have to decide if I will buy it online or go to the pet store. I heard amazon is shipping non-essential items slowly, but there are lines to get into the pet store.

Let it be known, I don't trust Michael Voris. Have a good day.

I went to the Spanish bakery this morning and bought two egg rolls. One for me and one for my mother. I wore a mask and gloves. I toasted the roll and put butter and apricot preserves on it. It was lovely. A little worldly happiness this morning.

Into The Sea

Walking on eggshells. I feel strange around the house with everyone. Today was the feast of the seven sorrows. I was reminded of it by a girl. I prayed the Te Deum today.

Thinking of the world, it is the calm before the storm. It is still pleasant. Our family of five still has money and are not angry at each other yet. My brother has bad luck. Really bad luck. Everything is going wrong with him. And I say this as the rest of the family, including myself, has been lucky for a long time. But he has bad luck. Everything is breaking and going bad, without saying what are his problems.

Not watching television, I do not know what is going wrong in the world. Strangely enough, my interactions with the world are limited to reading Cathinfo and Suscipe Domine and following a few Catholic accounts on twitter. So I don't know much. I hear that some people are getting 1200 dollars from the government. I am not sure if I am included. I would just give it to mom and dad or my brother.

I have a little fish named aurora. She is a goldfish. Every morning I turn on the light and feed her. And every evening I feed her and turn off the light. I have had her for eight months. If she has grown, it is not by much. I have her in a ten gallon tank. They said that a goldfish can grow as large as a football. That has not happened to my aurora just yet. She is still small. I feed her. I bought her a set of two Greek columns to swim around and through and to look pretty in her tank.

My friend angry Tom is looking for a place where they still have Mass. Some private or semi-private chapel. There is nowhere to go. I told him if he found someplace I would go with him on Easter. As it stands now, on Good Friday, one week from today, I will go to the Church in Glendale and pray at the Lourdes Grotto and say the Stations.

I do not know what to think.

This blog is the record of my thoughts. I don't write much anymore but it is how I am doing. My life for anyone who is interested. My life is not interesting, but it is a good life for the most part, now, and has been since late July.

I am looking at aurora. I am in the basement with her now. She still swims around. I wonder how long she will live.

But life is as life is. Everyone is wearing masks when I go out. I still take my walks. I go to stores less, and when I do, gloves and masks, usually. No one in my family is sick. Julian was sick, but he told me he is better now.

I a not trying to be interesting. My life is not at all interesting, so my blog should be dull also. Many people try to make up for having a dull life by reading books or watching television of movies. I am trying to live a normal life without the need for interesting things to happen or to watch interesting stories. I live, I think, I say my prayers much of which are similar or the same from day to day. Thursday I have my hour so it is special. It was better before the Churches were closed, but I make be with what is be.

My new Gemma prayer cards with relics are pretty. Some of them are paintings with angels and Mary and Jesus and of course my Gemma. She died when she was twenty five. There is a nice one of Mary holding baby Jesus and and Gemma genuflecting and reaching out towards the baby Jesus. There is an angel standing with his hand raised and a little baby cherub holding the insignia of the Passionists, a black heart with a cross. There is another with Gemma with her wounded hands, pointing towards Jesus on a Cross, surrounded by angels.

To think of holy things. I  must be a strange person. What is the world? All I ask for is enough to survive in a simple way until I die. Hopefully sooner rather than later. And not be tortured or abused or on the street (or if I end up on the street, it is not as unpleasant as it seems). Perhaps I will spend the rest of my days in a mental institution and live there with the crazies and the nurses. That would be a life. I could draw pictures and look at my holy cards, if they let me have them. I never lived in a mental institution. There used to be more of them, but years ago they closed many of them and just let the crazies be homeless or go to jails. But I read an article that suggested that in the future, because of governmental policy changes, they may be coming back. So it may be my life. In my time in the psych ward, they never let me have a rosary or wear a scapular. So I had to make do. And they do not allow the patients to wear belts out of fear of suicide, so everyone (if they are wearing street clothes) has to tie their pants tight with short strings tied to the belt loops.

I am not trying to make my blog popular. It is what I am. I am not trying to impress girls so they would marry me. But perhaps some people will find my blog and get something from it. Or at least know what I am like as if we were friends. I have to get back into a better habit of prayer. I will be good today, starting now. So be peaceful, now is the time to go for my walk. So be it.

Illness

So people are taking this Corona virus seriously. I just hope they do not close the Churches and I get to go to Benediction and to Mass like I usually do. My mother told me to go to the dollar store and buy six rolls of toilet paper. And she bought some anti-bacterial soap. That is the extent of our preparation.

This is the first time in my life where there has been an illness scare that I noticed. They are cancelling public events in many places and even sporting events that would have made billions of dollars such as the NCAA tournament. None of the other scares in my lifetime have caused such cancellations.

So I just hope they don't close the Churches. I could go without Mass for a few months if need be. And I feel OK with God so I do not have an urgent need to go to confession. But I would rather things go on as normal and the routine of my hidden life goes on as it has been going since the end of July.

I got my New Roman Missal in the mail today. Soon it will go on to the book shelf. It is not for use but to have. It is a 1945 Missal. I looked at some of the prayers. The most noticeable prayer change is the Good Friday prayer for the Jews. It has the "perfidis". I already had a 1962 Missal with the modern Holy Week that was prayed for only a few years so I wanted a Missal with the older Holy Week also. The missal seems good, however there seems to be a flaw. There is no real table of contents in the beginning of the book. There is a short one near the end of a book and an Index, but I think a two thousand page book could use a real table of contents. But it seems good and I am happy. It is funny because the reason I chose the Lasance Missal is because in the reviews I read of the Saint Andrew Daily Missal, there was the complaint that there was no table of contents. That helped persuade me to get the Lasance one instead only to be faced with the same problem. But it is a beautiful book.

My therapist told me I had to start spending money now that I get disability. It is not much money, but the way my life is I have been unable so far this year, to spend all of my money in any month, without saving money or giving it away. I spend so little money and my parents do not charge me rent. So lately I have just been giving generously at Church, and or giving money to my family. I have been buying some things on amazon. But my only major expense is going to Church. subway fare, donation, and coffee and food with the people after Mass.

But I am a frugal person. I do not want anything. I am content without buying things. So I will just help out my family.

Tonight the Bishop said the Benediction. He had us pray for protection from the corona virus. I think sometimes that he state of one's soul can be seen by looking at one's face. The bishop looks like a good man. Even though he is Novus Ordo, he has a good look about him. He is from Cuba.

So far nothing strange has happened because of the virus. The supermarkets are not out of food. The pizza store had pizza for us today. Mom went shopping at Michael's and said there was nobody in the store. But the parking lot was full because everyone was going to Trader Joe's. Life is still normal. Except that New York City made it illegal for stores to give you plastic shopping bags. You can get paper bags but you have to pay for them. They cost 5 cents. Which I think is a bargain. I remember years ago people said we should stop using paper bags because they killed trees to make them, so we should only use plastic bags. Now everyone says we should not use plastic bags because they get thrown away and do not decompose so they are bad for the environment. And now they have us using paper bags again, which I prefer anyway and am willing to spend a nickel for. But now we get to use some of those reusable cloth bags we have acquired over the years. I think people should do that as the ideal solution. Things that get used one time and then thrown away are not a good idea.

I am stealing a quote from a book I once read that was on the Index of Forbidden Books '"I did nothing today." --What? Did you not live? That is not only the most fundamental but the most illustrious of your occupations.' It is from Montaigne. Such is my life. I do nothing. But I am happy. I live and am happy. I am not a hero. Robert introduced me to the idea of being an "outsider artist." So I thought to myself, "yes, that is what I would like to be, an outsider, though I am not much of an artist". So I thought of my self, that I am "aspiring to be an unknown outsider." That fits. I am one of those people who thinks the modern world is insane. I mean it is mainstream now and socially approved for a man to cut off his penis and call himself a woman. And if one says, no, he is still a man and not a woman, that person is ostracized and will lose his family, his friends, and his employment. I do wonder about such people, how do they have sex? And if it is somehow possible for them to have sex, could they enjoy it as much as they could if their genitals were not mutilated. I mean I have at times thought what it would be like to be a woman and if perhaps I would be happier, but that was as far as it went.

But I live. That is all I do. I do think one can be an important person without doing much. I live well and am happy. I am a part of a family. I go to Church. I pray. I hope to go to heaven one day. I am not much interested in the world. I hope to have peace and to be able to survive until my death, hopefully of natural causes. But I do not long for money or for riches, beyond basic sustenance. If I were not crazy I would want to be a monk, but I am broken and am too old now so I let it be. I have peace. I am content with life. I do nothing, but I live, and life is what is important. To give one's life to God. Or to give him a tithe, and be grateful for the balance. So be it. So be it.

The Bishop said Benediction tonight. He looks like a good man. As traditionalists we look at the Novus Ordo Bishops and think they are not good, but I like our Bishop, the pastor of my local parish. He has never offended me. There is one Bishop in particular, who I like. Like my Bishop, he is also an auxiliary. The world famous Bishop Athanasius Schneider. He looks like a good man to me. I look at him and think he is kind, and good. He is not a pervert. He is pious and can be trusted. I hope he is a good man and has a good heart and loves God.

I love God. It sounds like pious talk, but I love God. But God is far away. Even in the Incarnate form of Jesus Christ. He is Our Creator and he is perfect and not a sinner. Even Mary, who is a creature, is not a sinner. So she is far away. But the saints who are creatures and who are sinners. They are my friends. My Gemma who I love a lot. I feel my love for her as a girl and as a sinner far more than I feel my love for God. But I love her because of God and I love God in her. So all my love for her is an act of praise for the God who created her. She is not an idol, but a creature beloved of the good God. Pious babbling.

I am always happy lately in my time of peace. The clouds, the birds, the stars, the moon, the sun. Mostly Jesus in the tabernacle. Jesus in the monstrance like today. Friday is almost as good a day as Sunday because I can visit Jesus in the monstrance several times a day and be blessed by him before I go to bed. It is good to look at Jesus.

I do not know if I can communicate my peace and happiness to other people by writing. Perhaps if things went bad I would be bitter. Nobody hurts me so I am happy. If I was handed over to the devil like Job, perhaps then I would scratch my boils and be miserable. I would cry out to God, but I hope I would not curse Him. In my time of despair when the devils tormented me for so long, I did not curse God. I hope I do not curse Him in the future. In this world of pain.

I do not feel as if I have a shepherd other than Jesus. That must be dangerous. I love God, but I do not have a leader who tells me what to think and what to believe. This is a problem in the strange world of traditional Catholicism, where we believe the leaders have lost the faith for the most part and cannot be trusted. I do not worry much. I try to believe in my own way and love.

I think the most important thing is to believe. And then to love. I try to believe and I try to love.

I Am Grateful

I am grateful. I am grateful for my family I have, and who take care of me. They let me live with them without paying rent, though I share my meager stipend with them when there is a need. If I were forced to survive on my own, I fear I would end up in the street. But they let me live with them.

My life is simple. I am crazy and I cannot think straight. I cannot remember things and I am always losing things. So I am useless. I can not work. I get a little disability check because the doctors determined that I was a bad case. It is good because it allows me to go to Church, give a little tithe and go out for coffee after Mass with my friends without begging my parents for money.

This is my life, which I am grateful for. I try to live a silent life. I avoid television and movies and the radio for the most part. I like peace and quiet. I do not usually get bored. I like to go to Church to sit before Jesus. And pray. The Church is a block and a half from my house and Jesus is there so I can go visit Him like a good friend. He looks at me from the tabernacle. I go at least once a day, though ideally I would go three times. Once at noon, once at three, and once at six. I say my prayers. Lately I have been trying to pray from my prayer book. In my free time, I do use the computer I am typing on. I think I use it too much, though I do not do anything bad on it. It is an attachment to the world. On Thursdays in the mid-day I walk to the neighboring Church for Benediction. I always see the grackles on my walk there, south of the avenue. I saw them again today. And at night I make my little holy hour and look at pictures of Gemma crucified. On Fridays they have Eucharistic Adoration and Benediction at my local parish so I go there during the day and at night for the blessing. And Sunday is the best day. Now that Mass is in the evening, I go a little early, and listen to Vespers at the indult parish, before going to our little upper room for our Low Mass. There is music now because of the Lovely Helena. And afterwards we talk of things in the Church and in the world and about our lives.

I have a happy life. But my parents are getting older. They will not live forever. Without them life would be difficult. So I am grateful for the time I have with them. My father hurt his knee this week so I have been helping him. He can barely walk. Today he got a cortisone shot and an x-ray. I am happier than I have ever been, since the last time I got out of the hospital in late July. Though I am also alone. My parents do not go to Church with me. They must think I am strange going to Church all the time. And I have no girlfriend or wife. But I do not feel lonely on this account like I used to. I can not explain why. Like when I was a child, I do not need a woman in my life to be happy. The need for a woman is a sign of a fall. It is better to be happy alone, than to have your happiness rely on the whims of a woman. To be able to be happy alone, but still have a woman, is another state. I have never been in that state. I do not worry about it, though, because of my condition it is unlikely to ever happen. I am like a nice young man with down syndrome. Crippled, alone, but happy. I wish I were as innocent as they are.

I imagine I would be happier with a girlfriend or a wife, but I do not grieve it. I still love women and am entranced when I see them walking around, if they are beautiful, or modest. But immodesty is ugly to me and makes me happy I am alone rather than with such a woman. The women at Church dress nicely and decently so it is good to see them, even though I feel like they are above me because of my condition.

I am grateful for God because I am happy. I feel like he is taking care of me. And I feel he has forgiven me for the sins of my youth. So many sins. It was difficult and painful but I feel the suffering had a purpose. But now I have peace. Trouble may come again, but now is a happy time for me. I feel as if I have grace. I have joy. I want to sing and I do to myself when I go out walking.

I do not have a wife, but I have a heavenly mother and the saints, including my favorite, my poor poor Gemma. If I go to heaven one day I will be one of her friends there. They keep me company and are good friends to me when I am alone. I have my Church friends and Julian who I visit and get Father to visit with the Blessed Sacrament.

So my life is happy. For now. As long as my parents are able to help me. It would be good if I die before they do. I am not afraid of death. If I was right with God I would be happy to die. Get this mortal life done with so the real life can begin. But then I may be damned. I fear that less now than I used to. So I am very grateful.

His Face Shone Like The Sun

My life is happy now. My father is having a stent put in on Friday. It should not be a problem as it is a routine procedure. My brother may be coming down here to see us on Thursday and leaving Friday morning. I would like to talk to him. My brother still smokes cigarettes. I wish he wouldn't. Because it is a bad addiction. And it costs money so it is not worth it. And it makes you unhealthy. I think I can see it in his face. My brother works and goes to school. Things I used to do but have not since I went crazy. I have a degree from university.

It was said of Abba Sisoes that when he was at the point of death, while the Fathers were sitting beside him, his face shone like the sun. He said to them, 'Look, Abba Anthony is coming.' A little later he said 'Look, the choir of the prophets is coming.' Again his countenance shone with brightness and he said, 'Look, the choir of apostles is coming,' His countenance increased in brightness and lo, he spoke with someone. Then the old men asked him, 'With whom are you speaking, Father?' He said, 'Look, the angels are coming to fetch me, and I am begging them to let me do a little penance.' The old man said to him, 'You have no need to do penance, Father.' But the old man said to them, 'Truly, I do not think I have even made a beginning yet.' Now they all knew that he was perfect. Once more his countenance suddenly became like the sun and they were all filled with fear. He said to them, 'Look, the Lord is coming and he's saying, "Bring me the vessel from the desert."' Then there was as a flash of lightening and all the house was filled with a sweet odor.

My brother told me I can be a hermit in our little house in Richmond Hill. I try to be good and I am fasting now. It is not difficult. I am already used to it and do not feel too hungry. After one gets started and gets over the first hump it gets easier. I would like to be a hermit. I like going to Church to pray during the day. There are not many people who go there to keep Jesus company. Sometimes I see one or two people, but never a crowd. Except for when there is Eucharistic Adoration and Benediction. Then there are a few people, but not many. And then on Sundays when I go to Churches and to Mass. I would like to be a hermit. I do not know how to pray. I like praying but I do not have a lot of prayers to say. So for the rest of the time I just try to be happy. And I am happy. I have no work to do and I am feeble-minded. I do not watch television. I look on the computer. Sometimes I copy out my Catechism, and sometimes I read. Praying is my best time. I do not get tired of praying. I just feel strange being in Church all the time. I don't want other people to see me. Otherwise I would go there often. I wish they would always have Jesus exposed on the altar so I could look into His heart instead of simply knowing He is there behind the door of the tabernacle. I don't think many people believe in the real presence. Or if they do they do not act upon it. If they believed everyone would spend their free time before Jesus, gazing into His heart and looking at Him and talking to Him. I read in the desert fathers that one of the fathers said I no longer fear God. Now I love Him and love expels fear from the heart. I feel like that. I am not afraid. I am happy and I love. If it is a delusion it is a happy delusion. I am not being tortured or stressed out or scourged. I am not a great saint or a prophet, but I love God. Even if He is an illusion. I believe in Him.

I remember when I first converted. I was filled with a burning fire from the devils. And my thoughts were full of despair and my sins were always before me and I could not imagine how I could ever be forgiven. I saw God and felt that He was angry with me and perhaps that I had sinned too much and He would never forgive me, but wanted to cast me into hell a an example for the world and a victim of infinite justice. But now I am happy. The fire and the devils left me long ago and now I am a happy little imbecile. I go to the doctor and take my pills and go to Church and live with my family and am always happy. It is a quiet happiness, but often when I am walking, and I do not go walking enough, I look up to the sky or see a bird flying, flittering here or there or calling, and I want to cry out in joy. For beauty moves my heart to joy. To see the sun or the moon or stars, and for some reason mostly the clouds in the sky . . . In the Church I do not cry out, but I am quiet. I love to pray before Jesus.

I wish I could be a little brother and live by a Church as some kind of monk or hermit. But they would not take me because of my feeble-mindedness and my age, at least not to the places that I would prefer, the more popular ancient ones. But then one would have to worry about other people who may be wicked and have power over me. I love my parents but they do not make me do bad things even though they do not believe as I do, as a lunatic hermit.

I don't know. I am looking at my little picture of Gemma. It fills my heart with a quiet joy. To meet her one day and for that day to last forever in eternal happiness. As happy as I would be to meet Gemma, I can not even imagine the happiness I would get from being with the good God. I do not know. Yes I was in love with a girl once upon a time. I was in love with a girl. But now I am broken and I will never achieve any of the goals or fantasies I had about my life. I will never be rich or even famous, or even have a normal life with a wife and children (and some say that such a life is not normal anymore and grieve for it). But I believe I have found God. And even if it is a delusion I am happy. I hope it never ends. My life is happy now.

I don't know what is my favorite book. I love praying the Little Office. And I loved it so much I will be acquiring another version to see which one I like better. And I love my little book about the Desert Fathers. And I love my Life of Gemma and my Life of the Cure of Ars. And I have the little devotional book with the different versions of The Way of the Cross. I would have to vote for the Little Office as I use it the most. But I do not need any books, as I have my rosary and can make ejaculations even though I love praying the Office. I should go on more walks, I think. I should try to when winter ends. I have extra time and it would be better using it to walk around the neighborhood and looking at the flowers and the birds, than sitting in the house and drinking coffee and looking at the computer. In the cold one wants to stay inside. But soon it will be warm and I will greet the warm weather by walking more. I can go to Church but also go on walks before and after I say my prayers. Only because seeing the world and the sky makes me happy. And when I am happy I love God more.

Is it better to suffer or to love? My life now is happy. I don't have enough friends though. I have Julian. He always calls me. I want to visit him in the next two weeks or so. It seems his sisters are getting evicted so he can not move in with him so he will be stuck in the nursing home for now. A shame. It would have been six blocks from my house and really close to the diner where I would have brought him so we could talk and eat together.

I remember hearing that when people have free time, they fall apart and become self-destructive. Most men cannot handle much leisure. They become alcoholics or drug addicts or sex addicts. I am able to live. I have some devotions to keep my time occupied. I get along well enough without any self-destructive addictions. I do drink a lot of coffee though.

I am not able to think. It is good sometimes because I do not have aggressive evil thoughts that I obsess over, but I also do not have good thoughts. By unable to think, I mean on a higher level. I do have menial thoughts. But I cannot imagine or think abstractly. That part of me is broken. I cannot make visions arise in my mind like I used to be able to. But my life is a happy life. For now. Perhaps in the future bad things will happen to me. But for now my life is a happy life.

So I am looking forward to seeing my brother if he comes up on Thursday. He was trying to get me to become a stock market speculator. I thought that was a strange idea. He thinks that because I have free time, I could read all kinds of books, become a genius and make millions of dollars in the stock market. I was not interested and don't think that would be likely if I was interested. But I love my brother and want to see him. Hopefully tomorrow.

What Is Love?

What is love really? I don't know. A man is meant to love women. Mother first, then wife. I think it is easier for a man to love the Blessed Mother or a female saint than it is for him to love Jesus or a male saint. Perhaps it is just me.

My favorite saint is a woman who I think was very beautiful. I like looking at pictures of her and praying to her. She is my sweet love. I hope to one day be with her in the after life. As a saint she is in heaven and as I love her I know she loves me, only more as she is perfect and with God in love and glory. I imagine saints love the poor souls on earth who pray to them. And the more one prays to the saint, the more the saint loves the poor soul. I pray to her a lot and like thinking about her. I read books about her life and the things she did and how she was a good woman and suffered for Jesus. I love her and she loves me also and I hope to meet her when I die. It is a strange thing to love a woman who one has never met and who died so long before one was born.

I also love a woman who is alive. I do not talk to her but I know she is alive. She knows I am alive. I do not talk to her much. I do not think she cares for me much, as I care for her. The same as with my saint, I hope to be together with this woman in the afterlife as we will not be together in this valley of tears. It is not lust. I think I have learned the difference. But I am not a high-value man according to the world, not having money, or now, even youth. She is not like me, a crazy pious recluse, not that she is successful herself. We are both dysfunctional, me more so than her in some ways, she more than I in other ways. I pray for her as I do for my friend. If my prayers have any value before the throne of God.

Today I went to the Church south of Atlantic avenue and I saw and heard the grackles. I heard their call, even while I was in Church. They were hanging out with starlings. Some black chested, some brown chested. One was eating bread on the telephone wire. It held the bread in its beak and did not swallow it. Then I walked closer and all the birds flew away. I know their call. They are not crows as I thought they were at first, knowing nothing of birds at all.

So, pray for me, my sweet love, my greatest love. And pray for my other love, my living love, and perhaps we will all meet and be together in the end as I hope. My mood is peaceful. But not completely. I am still in this world of sorrow.

On Making Money

I have no problem with people making money. It is necessary in the fallen world we live in. I make money myself. I get a small disability stipend for being crazy which I mostly give away to my family (because father takes care of me and deserves it and because I love my brother). But some people are good at it and make a lot of money. But as a reason to exist it is lacking to me. I have no desire for money or the things that money can buy, after the meeting of basic necessities. Perhaps it is because I do not watch television. Sometimes I buy books; I do like some of my prayer books. But what else is there to money? What is the point of luxury after necessity is met? Saint Benny had his office and his Imitation of Christ and a rosary around his neck and one in his hands. Even he did not have nothing. He carried around those two books in a bag and read from them often. He begged for coins and for bread and if he had a crust and needed more to share he would multiply the bread like Christ did the loaves on the mountainside and share it with his beggar friends on the streets and in the Colosseum of Rome. I have a little more. I have a book case with books I sometimes read. But they are more for show than for reading. I do not need them. The only books I regularly read are my Way of the Cross and my Little Office, and I also have my little Holy Hour booklet, but I would like to also keep a picture of Gemma like a soldier carries a picture of his young wife and looks at it and dreams of being with her while in the trenches. I could shed those and have nothing. I could be like a desert Father and spend my life meditating on a short prayer or a single line from scripture. I could say over and over again "Oh Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto thine heart" and after thirty years I could tell my friends that I was only beginning to understand the meaning of those words. I am a little person. I love people and things and my family and women and God and I love even the cruel hard world. And I love you if you are reading this. Yes, you. I love you. There are abortions and there are sparrows. Blood and tears and Our Lady of Guadalupe. There is a heaven and there is a hell. This I know. There is a God and a devil. Some worship God and some worship the devil. I think a lot of people are wretched and a lot of people are not honest. I don't want to make a lot of money. I would be happy if I were a slave whose master gave him a place to sleep and food and daily tasks and other slaves to talk to. I would be happy as long as the master did not abuse me and there was a little Church I could go to to pray.

People go to Communion. We are to believe that the Blessed Host is Our Lord Jesus Himself, come down from heaven, dying on the Cross for us and He is to be our food. If one is well disposed it will raise one up to the highest heaven and if one is ill disposed one will be hurled into the deepest pits of hell. There is nothing more perilous than appearing before the altar rail to receive Holy Communion. It truly is as it was in the movie Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade when the professor had to guess which chalice was the true Holy Grail and drink from it, and to choose wisely will lead to life and to choose poorly will lead to death. I go to Communion at our little mission in the upper room. So do many of us. I go to confession once a month and I receive Communion every Sunday. I am not afraid because I do not feel guilty. I feel as if I were a friend of Jesus. I try to visit him every day. It is special when he is in the monstrance, but more often he is still there only inside the Tabernacle. I like to sit close to him and look into his heart. I can only see bread, as only once did I see the Light of the World, but I know that he is looking back at me and sees deep into my soul. I do not doubt these things. It is my reality and it has been for eleven years.

I like to pray the Holy Hour every Thursday evening. It makes the day a special day. I read the little meditations and pray and think and look at the pictures of Gemma, for in her face I see the Christ Crucified as she bore His wounds in her flesh. It has become a favorite prayer of mine. I look forward to reading the parts that move me most and I hope to have it memorized some day so I can go back to it over and over in my mind during the week. If I had a friend and I wanted to convert her I would take her into my room and pray the Hour with her if she was interested. Gather around the Christ in Gethsemane and tell Him that you love Him.

I do not have a wide audience with my blog. I only have a few readers, I am not sure how many, but I seem to have a reader from Portugal. Blessings to you, my Portuguese friend. I have a wider audience when I make posts on the niche Catholic forums I like to post on. But here this is a place of my own where I can leave a record of my own thoughts. A record of my thoughts. I am only a fool. Do I seem pious? Or do I come across as a fraud? I think I am always talking about the same things. I have been thinking of God and the angels lately and have been speaking of the same things over and over again. Yet there are those who are always speaking of Nietzsche.

His blood! His blood! What profit in His blood? I don't know? Nobody in my life takes me seriously anyway except for my friends from Church. Julian takes me seriously. My good friend who I will visit tomorrow. He prays for us and since he is blind all he can do is pray. And listen to the television. We will pray together the Chaplet of St. Michael as we always do. And I will bring him some food. A salami sandwich. And angry Tom takes me seriously. He asked me if I wanted to become a religious brother, but I do not think anywhere I wanted to go would take me, being too old and infirm and crazy. As a young man he went to the seminary but he said at the time it had become too liberal and he left. He wanted to become a priest but instead he became a social worker. He did help people in his life. More than I have done.

I want to be like a little child and love God as a little boy loves his father. Only more. Everything good He has given to me. Life. My life is charmed. Envy not for envy is the source of unhappiness.

I used to roll cigarettes. I rolled them better than anyone else in the world. It probably took five years off of my life. That was ages ago. I remember I used to get enough tobacco and papers for fifty cigarettes for four dollars. I would smoke them constantly. My brand was Drum. It was the thing I did. But then I gave it up. A few years after my conversion, and after I had given up cigarettes, I met a traditional Catholic at Mass (of the tweed suit variety) who rolled his own cigarettes. Unlike me, he put little filters into his cigarettes as he rolled them. I guess he was worried about his health. He was travelling and I only saw him twice, but he talked to me after Mass at the coffee shop. One Sunday he told me that the night before he was at a party and he challenged a protestant to a fist fight because he blasphemed Our Lady. I thought of asking him what he was doing at a party with such people but I held my lip. He seemed like a good chap, but the kind of person who would be good at making money. I wish him the best even though I can not remember his name.

Sunday is something to look forward to now. The whole day. Now we have music at Church. More people are coming to the Cenacle now. Church is at five. So I go in early and try to visit one or two of the Churches in Manhattan before. And after we have coffee and food. I am liberal with money on Sundays. I have a happy life. I am so happy. Not all the time when I am busy doing things, but in the quiet of the night and in the silence I am a very happy person.

I don't want to be an important person or be famous or be a great artist. I do not want to abuse women. I do not resent people with money or men who have beautiful women. I do not regret becoming crazy and losing my chance at a normal life. I am happy for my father and my mother and my family for my brother. I am happy for my friends and for our priests and for Church. I am happy for God and for the angels and the saints. I am happy for my Gemma and that I can look at my pictures of her and read about her and pray to her. Thinking about her makes me so very happy. You do not know. I am happy for so many things. Even if the world is full of ugliness and sin and pain. I often forget all the pain I was in when I was being tormented by the devils, but I knew what it was like to suffer. And now I have a life of peace and joy. I am grateful for being tormented by the devils for all that time because it makes me grateful for the peace I have now.

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.