Battling Porn

https://www.catholicgentleman.net/2020/05/battling-porn-how-to-know-if-youre-addicted/

I read this blog for some reason. I don't remember how I found it. It seems to be an attempt to help young troubled men lead decent Catholic lives. This post is about pornography addiction. I guess a lot of men struggle with this. It is hard to deal with. In my days before I became religious I used to look at pornography and it was highly addictive. Now I do not struggle with it, though I do drink too much caffeine and I like beer on occasion. Those are my addictions. But I think the question should not be, "how to know if you're addicted." It should be rather, that any use at all is a sin, so even if one only does it on occasion and could give it up, one would still be damned. Sometimes you really do have to gouge out your eye to attain the crown.

Forsaken not man being one with the father. I don't know. I am having problems lately. In thinking about people. I am judging them harshly. I am thinking they are bad, evil, and knowingly wicked. I know I am wicked, but not as bad as I used to be. But I think most people are bad. Maybe if one looks at the world it would make sense to think we are all evil. The world has more physical resources than ever before since the great flood and we are gluttonous for material things and pleasure more than we ever were and nobody is satisfied. Everyone eats their bread on the blood of Christ. I don't know. Rape of the world for momentary pleasure. I would be happier if we lived in a world of relative poverty, as long as people had enough to eat and didn't starve, but it were simpler, with fewer luxuries. As long as the government did not torture us or it was dangerous to go out in the streets because of crime.

I have been trying to appreciate the dollar store. I was happy to learn that their diet soda was passable so I can save 1.25 for every bottle of soda I buy. Last visit I bought two 6 oz bags of coffee and I am excited to try them. If they are passable I can save about 2 dollars for every two bags I buy. It is exciting. To live thriftily. It is good so I can give more money to Church or to my family. They have pretty good dollar sandwiches which I can eat for breakfast or lunch, also for a dollar. It is really helpful. And they have lots of good cookies.

I got my holy cards from the monastery. They gave me a card to apply to join a confraternity of Jesus under the title of King of Love. It is a fairly new devotion. I may join. And they sell statues of Jesus that they carve themselves. If I join I will buy one of their statues. They are expensive, but they are a labor of love so they would be worth it.

I have a statue of a black Mary holding the baby Jesus wearing royal garments. This is Jesus alone as a beautiful little boy.

I was thinking about sedevacantism. I know some sedevacantists. Many online. Some in person. My best friend Julian (who I did not choose my pen name after) is one, and angry Tom is another. Of the sedevacantists I know, some are good people. But I am now very opposed to their position on Churchy things. When someone becomes a sedevacantist I get sad inside. I am a liberal. But they seem to go too far. They say for every heresy that arises, another heresy the opposite of it arises that goes too far in response to the first heresy. The example here is the Donatists and now the sedevacantists. They are scandalized by the Church so they reject it. But I love Julian, and I would think that he is in a state of grace despite his sedevacantism. It is understandable and I hope they are not condemned. I hope God does not judge them with as strict of a judgment as they judge the Pope and the Bishops and the Novus Ordo priests.

I hate Novus Ordo Watch and have for years. And True Restoration is a running joke in my mind. A sick joke. Even worse by far than the Crusade Channel of the Saint Benedict Center (and I respect Father Feeney). But nobody cares what I think. I was amused when someone spoke about me on Cathinfo as my handle. As if I were a famous person. They spoke of me as if I was a person of note that all traditional Catholics should know. It was as if someone said: "you are a traditional Catholic and you do not know 'Matto'?". Perhaps I am prominent in this little pond as I have made many posts on various traditional Catholic forums. But very few people read this blog. My SSPX priests know of my internet handle and that I talk on the forums. I do not bash them very often so I am not ashamed of them knowing who I am, though I do not support them blindly either. I do hope they are mostly good priests as I think they are, and not bad, though recently Mr. Voris, who I think is one of the least reputable men in the trad world, has accused some of them of sexual sins. So I have made a name for myself, I guess. It is a small world. I have been living in this pond since 2010, though I first sighted it in 2008. The world has changed a lot in 12 years. When I discovered this pond George W. Bush was president, then quickly Obama took office and now we are near the end of Trump's first term. It seemed like yesterday that I told Matthew that he should vote for Trump because the media hated him, but he preferred Ted Cruz. And now he is a fervent Trump supporter while I don't trust him, though I prefer him to a Democrat. For a while he even believed in Q Anon.

When you come to judge this world by fire.

Today our family, me, the girl, Michael, mom and dad, went to the wildlife refuge. It is a pond by the bay which is of salt water, where a lot of birds live. We saw yellow birds, swallows, red-winged blackbirds, ducks, geese, and various gulls and terns. There were so many swallows eating bugs. they darted back and forth, turning quickly, over the water and over the sand, eating flying bugs too small for us to see. We saw two Canada geese walking, presumable a mother and father, with two baby geese. My father took pictures of them and I told him to send me one of them which I want to post on my Instagram. My father took two pictures of me but I didn't look good in them so I will not share them. And after that we went to get food. We went to Popeyes but it was closed so instead we went to KFC. The food was good (for fast food) so it made me happy. And now I am having my beer, relaxing, and writing this blog post. I am such a sinner.

For what it's worth, amazon is recommending me a book titled Things Fall Apart. It is reading my blog posts. I have no desire to read right now, I have not even read The Leopard or The Penitent, all I want to read is my prayer books. Much of it the same every day, with variations for the days of the week and the seasons of the year. And I pray fourteen different Stations of the Cross, for the most part in a two week cycles, for the most part.

So I will join the Confraternity of Jesus, King of Love. It is my monastery. I gave them money. They are under the local diocese in Ireland, but they say the Latin Mass and are somewhat traditional. They are not SSPX leaning of sedevacantist. I hope they are good people. I have been watching their livestreams during the lockdown and they have a lot of young monks, though the priest abbot is older. But all of the other monks look young. I can not join them, as I am too old, and also because I am infirm. I have never prayed like they pray, though. I pray a little, but they pray a lot. Every day. They pray. I watch Vespers, but that is only one of the offices. There are eight, plus Mass. One could think of it as a job. But it is so calming when I listen to them pray.

I hope to be able to join and buy their statue. I believe a 4 inch statue it 78 dollars. A bit much, but it is beautiful and hand-made and would go to a good cause. I will join the confraternity. The only requirements are to pray a short prayer, "Jesus, King of Love, I put my trust in thy loving mercy" in the morning and in the evening, and to carry a medal wherever you go. I can put it on my key chain. I am so glad they sent me their holy cards. I will not cherish them as I do the cards of Gemma, but they are nice. One is a picture of the Little Flower. In the sea.

I do not have a lot of friends anymore. I never had a lot. I do not think Mellonie wants to talk to me anymore. I will not contact her. If she contacts me I will be happy and try to be friends, but it is up to her. I do not have a lot of other friends. Nobody loves me or cares. I have Julian and angry Tom, yes. Julian is my best friend, the crazy sedevacantist. And Cora calls me sometimes. I have to get back to Church. With the beautiful Cecilia and the lovely Helena. What a joy. When I see them I think of how beautiful they are and not how ugly everyone else is. I imagine it is because they have grace while everyone else has sin. But that is merely speculation. In the eyes of God. Pax tecum.

Lay Apologist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Mayor of Kew Gardens

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

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

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

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

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

As Adam, Early in the Morning

5/24/29 Adam A

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

-Walt Whitman

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

!408! (steps)

Let's Play Telephone . . .

Adam 5/25/19

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

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