Fasting Again

 I have gained a lot of weight since this covid nonsense started. I have been eating more, and also drinking beer. So I decided to stop and lose weight again. Actually the weight gain really began when I got out of the hospital almost two years ago, but it got worse since covid. I ate more, and stopped going out for my two daily walks during the winter.

So now I started going on my two daily walks again. And starting yesterday I am fasting. It will be slow going, as I do not have the will built up yet. The immediate goal is to eat two meals a day, not counting tea. A half of a tuna melt, or alternatively two pieces of toast with butter and jam, at noon time. And a normal dinner, whatever I make for my family at night. I am not going to eat a separate meal of rice and lentils as I did the last time I fasted. But that is for now, I may switch as time goes on. On Sundays I will not fast, and sometimes I will allow myself to take some beer. But still eat less than I normally would.

On day one I did well. I had my two meals and took a little extra food in between meals as I got hungry. But even though I had a little extra, it was a little enough amount of food that if I continued to eat that way I would lose weight. Today, day two, I also took a little extra food. But a little less than yesterday. And I will be having a light dinner. In time, I will get less hungry and be able to eat less food. Who knows, in time I may have the will to eat only one meal, at night, and not have my half a tuna melt in the morning. But I will not do this quickly, as recently I bought a lot of cans of tuna from the internet so I have at least a month's worth to eat before it is gone. Perhaps the goal will be to reduce the amount of food until I am ready to eat only one meal when I run out of cans of tuna. So it is going well so far. I hope the will to fast does not go away. I was able to sustain it for half a year the first time, hopefully the same will happen again.

And I started taking my two daily walks. Yesterday I saw a falcon soaring and an oriole sitting high up in a tree and singing. I love seeing uncommon birds. The common birds in my neighborhood are mourning doves which are my favorite birds, sparrows, pigeons, starlings, mockingbirds, and robins. Sometimes I see gold finches, cardinals, blue jays, and woodpeckers. There are also the hawks who often rest atop the steeple of the Church a block and a half away from our house. And of course there are the grackles who live in South Richmond Hill on the way to St. Benny's. But I have stopped walking to St. Benny's for Benediction since covid so I haven't seen them recently. I should find out if they have Benediction again over there so I could go on Thursdays as I used to go. And of course there are the songbirds who live in the bird store on Atlantic Avenue which I go past on my walks. There are other birds whose names do not come to my mind but they are not as common as those I named.

I have been bringing my best friend Julian food on Fridays. I bring him tuna salad sandwiches with celery and cucumbers and lettuce with no cheese. He wants a specific type of bread from Trader Joe's called Ezekiel Bread. I bought it once for him. But we do not eat it so it will go bad every week if I continue to buy it for him. Perhaps I will just give him the whole loaf when I bring the sandwiches to him on Fridays. I would get him the bread every week, but I can not always get a ride to Trader Joe's and it is a long walk or 5.50 for the bus fare. Julian is a charity case. I am always buying him things and he doesn't pay me back very much. For every ten dollars I spend on him he gives me one dollar back. But I don't mind. I have nothing to spend my money on anyway. I guess I could give more money to Church.

And I have started taking my cold showers again. It does strengthen the will so it goes well with fasting. And I have decided to say more prayers. Be sure to pray the whole Little Office every day except for Sunday and the Office of the Dead at night before I go to bed. And the Rosary which I always pray. Sunday is a Holiday. I go into the city for Church and after Mass we talk foe a while with my friends. There is a new man at Church named Raymond. He introduced himself to me last week, though I had seen him before. He started coming regularly a little earlier in the year. Perhaps next week we will invite him to the Donut Pub after Mass so we can talk about religion. CUP. I was thinking about these things at Church this week and during the Canon I started praying "help me to be more of a monk". So I am eating less and praying more, and having my recreation of my walks. 

I have a problem of talking to myself. Sometimes when I talk to myself I say bad things without really thinking about what I am saying until after it is said. I used to confess this until the priest told me that if it was not intentional it probably was not a sin. I do say bad things. Maybe it is the wickedness spilling over the brim of my wicked heart. But sometimes I say good things as well, does that mean my heart is good? Am I a good tree or a wicked one. Do I bear fruit? 

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.

Holy Innocents

For the first time since this lock-down began I was able to go to a Church to pray. The Churches in the diocese of Brooklyn are all locked. Some in Manhattan are open, but they have no public services. My father offered to drive me and my mother to Holy Innocents. They are open and they had Eucharistic Adoration.

So we visited Jesus. I said my prayers and looked at Him. And He looked at me. I sat quietly for about an hour and forty five minutes. I started by praying the Rosary slowly and quietly, then some hours and the stations and my prayers for someone special to me. I prefer sitting before Jesus in the monstrance even to Mass. It was a good prayer time. Happy day.

My SSPX chapel is not having Mass either. So no Mass for me. I couldn't even go to a Novus Ordo Mass if I wanted to. I hope to visit Jesus again sometime soon. Back to normal when they have Him sitting in the monstrance two days a week plus Sunday.

So I am glad that Father drove me. He doesn't like the old religion like I do. He speaks of how when he was in high school during Vatican II, the brothers would tell him, all that the nuns taught to you as a child forget about all that. He did not forget, but he stopped believing. He sometimes brags about the Church history and theology he knows. But in my thirty eight years as his son he never taught me any of it, other than referencing something to ridicule it or point out perceived hypocrisy. He does not like the new religion either. But he does not want people to believe in the old religion.

He likes looking at old Churches and taking pictures of stained glass windows because they are beautiful. My father is not too bad of a guy. He is moral for a regular person and works to help support our family. He takes care of us which means a lot. But he is not pious or respectful.

I am a strange person though.

I Will Cry Like A Young Swallow

1

Have mercy on me, O God, according to thy great mercy. And according to the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my iniquity. [4] Wash me yet more from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. [5] For I know my iniquity, and my sin is always before me.

[6] To thee only have I sinned, and have done evil before thee: that thou mayst be justified in thy words and mayst overcome when thou art judged. [7] For behold I was conceived in iniquities; and in sins did my mother conceive me. [8] For behold thou hast loved truth: the uncertain and hidden things of thy wisdom thou hast made manifest to me. [9] Thou shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, and I shall be cleansed: thou shalt wash me, and I shall be made whiter than snow. [10] To my hearing thou shalt give joy and gladness: and the bones that have been humbled shall rejoice.

[11] Turn away thy face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities. [12] Create a clean heart in me, O God: and renew a right spirit within my bowels. [13] Cast me not away from thy face; and take not thy holy spirit from me. [14] Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and strengthen me with a perfect spirit. [15] I will teach the unjust thy ways: and the wicked shall be converted to thee.

[16] Deliver me from blood, O God, thou God of my salvation: and my tongue shall extol thy justice. [17] O Lord, thou wilt open my lips: and my mouth shall declare thy praise. [18] For if thou hadst desired sacrifice, I would indeed have given it: with burnt offerings thou wilt not be delighted. [19] A sacrifice to God is an afflicted spirit: a contrite and humbled heart, O God, thou wilt not despise. [20] Deal favourably, O Lord, in thy good will with Sion; that the walls of Jerusalem may be built up.

[21] Then shalt thou accept the sacrifice of justice, oblations and whole burnt offerings: then shall they lay calves upon thy altar.

2

 [10] I said: In the midst of my days I shall go to the gates of hell: I sought for the residue of my years.

[11] I said: I shall not see the Lord God in the land of the living. I shall behold man no more, nor the inhabitant of rest. [12] My generation is at an end, and it is rolled away from me, as a shepherd's tent. My life is cut off, as by a weaver: whilst I was yet but beginning, he cut me off: from morning even to night thou wilt make an end of me. [13] I hoped till morning, as a lion so hath he broken all my bones: from morning even to night thou wilt make an end of me. [14] I will cry like a young swallow, I will meditate like a dove: my eyes are weakened looking upward: Lord, I suffer violence, answer thou for me. [15] What shall I say, or what shall he answer for me, whereas he himself hath done it? I will recount to thee all my years in the bitterness of my soul.

[16] O Lord, if man's life be such, and the life of my spirit be in such things as these, thou shalt correct me, and make me to live. [17] Behold in peace is my bitterness most bitter: but thou hast delivered my soul that it should not perish, thou hast cast all my sins behind thy back. [18] For hell shall not confess to thee, neither shall death praise thee: nor shall they that go down into the pit, look for thy truth. [19] The living, the living, he shall give praise to thee, as I do this day: the father shall make thy truth known to the children. [20] O Lord, save me, and we will sing our psalms all the days of our life in the house of the Lord.

Thinking on this. 

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.

Three Rosaries

I bought three rosaries online today. The last time I purchased a rosary online, it was a beautiful blue rosary with a relic from Gemma's coffin in it. It is the rosary that will be wrapped around my hands as I lay in my coffin stone cold dead. I wonder who will go to my wake and funeral. I only have Church friends. I lost my secular friends after I went crazy and I don't think Mellonie wants to talk to me anymore, but some of the people from Church will come and pray for me. And my parents and my brother and my cousins. But today I bought three everyday rosaries. They are all wooden with cords and no links, as I have found these to be the best ones for me. I can pray with them without links to break. The cord is stronger than the chain. If a rosary has five hundred links, only one of them has to break for the rosary to become worthless, and in my experience, one of them always breaks. When my first rosary broke I saw it as a sign of my own reprobation as the breaking of a rosary must certainly be a sign of damnation. But no, they always break. They are meant to be pretty, but since nobody ever actually prays the rosary, they make them weak so they break if regularly used. I am sure there are quality chain rosaries that do not break, but I have never owned one. My favorite was very expensive and made of green malachite stones and real silver links and it fell to pieces, both the stones and the links. And every other chain rosary I bought since has also fallen to pieces. So now I like the wooden beads on cords. This is the website I like to buy them from. I wish more people would buy from them, so if you want a rosary, order it from them. They have the kind I like and I am grateful to them because once I bought a rosary from them, prayed with it, and pulled it a bit, and the string broke on the first day I used it. So I complained and they sent me a new one right away at no cost and it has lasted for years, so ever since they were so nice to me I like to talk them up and recommend their website.

I wonder if we will be watching the Super Bowl this year. Mass is at 5, so it will end at 6. And the game starts around 6:30, usually. I know our priest is a football fan and his team is the Chiefs and they are playing, so we may all go out as a group to a pub or something to watch the game. There is nothing more worldly than the Super Bowl and the inner Jansenist in me suggests boycotting it on principle. I remember I watched the Katy Perry halftime show a few years ago and it was a mockery of the Whore of Babylon from the Book of the Apocalypse. So I have no desire to take part in the satanism or blasphemy on public display. But I have nothing against having two pints and eating some wings and the football itself is merely stupid and not sinful. The gladiators are not killing each other, and there are no Christians being eaten by tigers or anything. Though some suggested boycotting the game over some advertisements promoting sodomy, for what it's worth. And the pro-lifers complained that the network turned down a pro-life advertisement. Still, I would not want to give an anti-christ television network a couple of million dollars for an ad even if the ad itself did promote a good cause.

So I am more excited for the rosaries than about the big game. I still have a weakness for baseball. I like when the Yankees win. I want them to win the world series. Last year I watched a few games. I will probably watch a few this year. But it is still stupid and a weakness of mine. An imperfection perhaps, and not a sin.

I want to live in my little room and be peaceful and pray and hope as I have been. I have been good since I got out of the hospital. It has been six months. I am at peace, even in my infirmities. More hope, and no despair. Nobody bothers me, and I don't feel lonely even though I know I am pretty much alone. I am happy more than any other emotion. I live in my little room and look at pictures. I go to Church to say my prayers. I pray for people in my life who I love, and people from my past who I used to love and still have a fondness for. Lately there is one person who I am thinking of and praying for all the time. I have thought about praying the Office of the Dead for her and did tonight, even though she is still alive. I wonder if my prayers make a difference? Even if God does not exist, the meditation and disciplining of the mind and the will makes me happy and gives me peace, even if there is no power of divinity in it. And of course I think there is great power in it. In prayer, if even not in my own prayer because I am feeble and a sinful man like Saul.

I imagine Cora's prayers are powerful. She is living with the relatives of a friend who are members of some sort of cult in another state and is praying for them, unable to make it to a Church, or at least a Church she is willing to go to. She is more pious than me, as I am willing to step foot in a Novus Ordo Church to pray. She prays more than anyone I know and I think she is very holy if anyone I know is holy. Angry Tom thinks she is crazy. She is a seventy eight year old Filipino woman, forty years older than I am, but when I used to see her at Church I sometimes thought about how beautiful she was for an older woman and how if she was forty years younger she would be the kind of woman I would like to marry (if I were not broken). And then there is Karen. She is feebleminded like I am, and is an old maid. I bet her prayers are powerful. She told me she prays for three and a half hours every day. She likes the Pieta Prayer Book. And she comes to Mass. She is like Cora in her sensibilities and she gets visits from Jesus and Mary and they tell her what to do and what Churches to go to. She has not told me of any prophecies. She told me about how one time one of her friends tried to get her to marry the devil as a young woman but she refused and another girl she knew accepted and wedded the devil and now she is rich and living with a multimillionaire husband not caring for a thing but trying not to think about eternity. And Julian's prayers must be powerful. He is all alone in the nursing home with no friends and nobody to take him to Church. Our good priest visits him to hear his confessions and bring him Holy Communion every once in a while and they argue about salvation. In my mind whatever your position on EENS is I can't imagine a lot of people are going to heaven these days. I wonder about the Christians in Africa. They are dirt poor, but they have families and they seem to believe and they fight with Muslims and are more conservative than Americans and Europeans. There liturgy is strange and Africanized but I hope a lot of them have the faith and are good people. So Julian in his nursing home alone, with nurses who are not kind to him, praying for all of us, blind, with bad kidneys, unable to walk much. He is a victim for sure and it is always nice to talk to him. I am looking forward to March because he says he will be leaving the nursing home in March and moving in with his sisters, six blocks from my house. So we can be friends. I can bring him to the diner and we can eat together, perhaps once a week. And perhaps once in a while I can get my Father to drive us to our Mission in the City for Mass. He will not go to the local Churches where I go for Eucharistic Adoration and Benediction because he does not believe the Novus Ordo has true Sacraments so to him it would be idolatry, so he only goes to the Latin Mass (and not all Latin Masses) and the Eastern Rite Divine Liturgy. I think Jesus is there and that God would not abandon 99.9 percent of the world's Catholics to idolatry, even if the Novus Ordo is a deficient Mass, but he is more pious than me and is even a sedevacantist if you know what that means. So I do not tell him about how I like to go to Novus Ordo Church to look at Jesus because that would lead to an argument. I can tell angry Tom that, but not Julian or Cora or Karen, because I like to keep the peace, and I don't think their differing opinions would lead them to have less hope for salvation.

So I am happy to wait on my three rosaries. They should come next week and I will have them blessed by Father after Mass next Sunday. I am thinking of buying a fourth rosary, this one a fifteen decade one, also with wooden beads and a cord. It is more expensive though. I have no use for a twenty decade one because I do not pray the Luminous Mysteries (because I am a traditional Catholic and we do not like new prayers for the most part, though I have thought about learning how to say them and also learning how to say the Divine Mercy Chaplet, as an act of charity. I doubt, even if I do not think they are as good as the real rosary, that it would be a sin to pray those prayers, even if they are weaker).

Yesterday there were so many grackles. I noticed there were two kinds of grackles. One with brown breasts and one who were all black. The black ones are bigger. There were like fifty of them in front of a house near St. Benny's flying to and fro, cackling. Often I do wonder if animals really are a sign. The black birds represent the state of the souls of the people who live near by, like the squirrels. If people were holy all the squirrels would be white and all the pigeons would be as ivory doves. I looked at the grackles for five minutes or so. Some were eating. Really, they were just hanging out, talking to each other. Like people do outside of their apartments when you walk by and smell marijuana smoke. I wonder if animals get bored. I never get bored anymore. I waste time on the computer, but when I have quiet and silence it does not bother me. My thoughts are straight and I always have a prayer in my mind or on my lips. For some reason I never get tired of the same prayer, at least for the last six months. In the hospital in my despair in limbo I prayed Ave Maris Stella. Now in my freedom I pray a simpler prayer in English, "O Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto thine heart." I say it over and over. Sometimes in front of Jesus I look at him, and I did this today at Eucharistic Adoration and repeat it over and over, hundreds of times. Or in front of the tabernacle. Today I held my rosary beads and counted them out, in my mind, not vocally. Over and over. They say the Orthodox do that with the Jesus Prayer "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, Have mercy on me a sinner". But you can do that with any prayer. A monk might retreat on to his mountain with a few lines of a psalm and contemplate them for seventy years and still not fully understand it. I will walk around the mountain a thousand times. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will not fear because the Lord is with me. His rod and his staff, they comfort me. But my mind is by no means free of trouble. Sometimes I have bad thoughts but when I do usually I speak them out loud, they do not remain in my mind, and sometimes I say bad things. But usually I have peace. And when I go to confession I confess that sometimes I say bad things to myself but I do not remember how often or what exactly I said. It is my most common sin, but Father P. told me to not worry because it probably was not a sin because it was like a tic of the mind with no intent in the will.

I just thought about the mayor of Kew Gardens, Aaron, and how I told him that when he died I would go to his grave in the Maple Grove Cemetery and put a toasted bialy with butter and a cup of coffee on his headstone. I wonder if he is still alive. It has been twelve years and he was an old man back then. He must be dead by now, no? I have not seen him like some of the old reprobates from my last job when I am around Kew Gardens to go shopping, or to the bank, or to the post office with my mother. Poor old Aaron and Stanley. Yes, they must be dead by now. So much time has passed. Perhaps I should pray for them?

There is one thing lately that I am grateful for. I am grateful that I am a happy crazy and not an angry crazy or a depressed crazy. If one has to break, I broke in a better way. I am not suicidal, and I do not suffer. Now. If things get bad I may go there in the future and when I was newly broken, I was in a bad place, but I survived. But now, I am glad to be happy broken.

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.

Principalities and Powers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Church News

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stations of the Cross

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

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

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

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

A good one.

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

Prayers Against the Devils

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prayer

I pray less now, but I pray more. I find myself always thinking about God or holy things. My natural state is to pray subconsciously. When I walk I like to sing to myself the Salve Regina. It comes to me naturally. But people are always telling me to learn prayers and say prayers. That is beyond me. I pray. Does it matter the words that one says when one prays, if one is praying to the good God and not the demons? Is prayer merely opening up one's heart to God and one's vulnerable heart to the redeemer. They say when you stare into the abyss, the abyss looks back. But it is even more true that when you stare at the good God, the good God looks back. But you do not always see him. If your heart is flesh and blood you see him and he sees you. But if your heart is stone you look but do not see, you cry out but are not answered.

What I said is not always true. It is just me thinking.

Eucharistic Adoration has become important for me now. I like to look at Jesus. I believe he is there. I pray "Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto thine heart."

I will go now.

I have my prayer book with my morning and evening prayers and sometimes I pray the Angelus and I pray my Rosary and three Hail Marys in the morning for me, for another, and for another. Those are my prayers. The rest are unscripted. But know I try to always think of the good God. Not always, but often. I often think of him. Often.

O John

O John who lay his head on Our Lord's breast in the Cenacle because thou wert innocent and pure. Who stood at the foot of the Cross when all the apostles fled. Who wrote the greatest of the Gospels, the Word Made Flesh. Pray for us in our vileness and impurity. Hope for us in our innocence. We are children of the devil, let us become children of God. Make us white as the virginal snow which falls from the heavens every day in some corner of the world as the manna fell from heaven for forty years in the desert. Let us be fed by the Word made flesh. Do not abandon us before the throne of the devil. Lead us up to the throne of the good God. The Cross you stood witness by for three hours on Good Friday to atone for thou falling asleep in the garden while Our Lord was in his first agony.

A River of Tears

I have learned how to cry again;
A river of tears.
It is not a torrent but a leaky faucet.
For a while I could not cry,
But now I am able.
For my sins, for those of the world,
For my poor Emily;
Was she ever real or just a fig tree
Of my imagination?
A bitter fruit or a dove?
I am not innocent. I am so very innocent.
I am a crow. I am a dove.
I am a poor sinner.
I speak to the pines;
I pine away for my poor poor soul.
I am innocent as a dove as wicked as the raven
Who gouged out poor Gesmas' eyes
after the crucifixion
While he was still alive.
He screamed out in pain,
But God did not hear him.
For his blasphemies before the face of our redeemer,
Repentance was not for him.

There is a mouse in our house.
My mother wants to kill him,
But I am kind to him.
I want him to stay.
I will feed him tea and oranges
That come all the way from China.
Did I tell you that my father
Looks just like Leonard Cohen?

I cry when I think about the Annunciation.
And I cry when I think of the Crucifixion.
The conception and the redemption.
I am not afraid. I have no fear,
For the good God is with me;
He comforts me and give me peace
In this world of pain; For pain is dear to me.
It helps me grow and mature.
Without pain there is no progress,
Without progress, no victory.
Through pain and through prayer
Suffering and giving thanks
The two-handed engine of Saint Peter
That the poets sing of in forbidden poems
The songs of victory of the losers
The poet who won the laurels of earthly victory
But lost the heavenly crown of glory
The boxer who won the corruptible crown
But lost the eternal crown in heaven.

They speak of Esau selling his birthright
For a bowl or lentils. I have eaten lentils
And they are sweet and lovely.
I would not trade them for the world;
They give me solace in this world of pain.
But my soul is worth more than a thousand
Bowls of lentils. An infinity of lentils.
The pearl of great price is bought cheap
It only costs a few Hail Mary's
But its value is beyond measure.
I will feast on Mondays and Tuesdays
And Thursdays and Sundays.
I will Fast on Wednesdays and Fridays
And Saturdays.

The Cross, the Cross, my kingdom for the Cross.
The world for the Cross, but who would make that trade?

I had a vision in the hospital. A man sold his soul for a year worth of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
Then he came back and sold his soul again for a month of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
Then he sold his soul again for a week of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
Then he sold his soul again for a day of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
Then he sold his soul again for an hour of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
Then he sold his soul again for a minute of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
Then he sold his soul again for a second of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
He kept on selling his soul again and again;
And each time his soul was worth less and less,
And the pleasure gained was less and less.
But the devil made the trade;
Again and again and again.

In my vision he did not die;
His soul was dead of course,
But the Judgment had not yet come.
He was too ashamed to turn to the Lord.
His sins were too great.
But we must pray that he does so turn.
With the help of the Blessed Mother,
He must come before the seat of the Good God.
Before the Cross, in the wedding garment
Fashioned by His Mother, and beg the pardon
Of the Good God he so often blasphemed.

And all will be forgiven, but he must turn.
As often as you sell your soul to the devil,
God is willing to pay the ransom.
All he asks is to love him and forgive others
As you have been forgiven.
And he will soften your heart of stone
And make it flesh and blood.
And you will cry a river of tears
For a year; for thousands of years
And you will have peace and happiness
For the rest of your days
And you will be buried happily
In an unmarked grave.

But the angels will remember you and the good Mother too
And nothing on earth will be as beautiful as you.

A poem of happy tears by Julian Moore.

Vermin

"I am a worm and not a man." I remember reading about that phrase from the greatest of all the Psalms and the priest said that the word worm, "vermin," referred to a specific type of worm that was crimson and lived in wood and had little legs kind of like a centipede and that it was a symbol of Christ on the cross.

So when I was younger I took magic mushrooms and wandered through the woods and fell deep into darkness and sin.

When I converted I had to find my way back out of the woods. So I prayed and I wandered and I prayed. I remember wandering through the woods, chasing birds and licking mushrooms and smelling flowers, wandering blindly, praying the Rosary constantly, sometimes in tears, sometimes consumed with joy, thinking I was led by the spirit of God. Walking around, praying, carrying stones, climbing trees and fighting trees. I did many strange things, trying to be humble.

And I remember deep in the woods picking up an old rotting stick seemingly at random and breaking it in two. And I saw a red worm curled up within the wood now exposed and I thought it was the vermin that I had read about and I had encountered Christ in my prayer, the Word made flesh. The symbol in nature as I found him while wandering through the woods. I did so many strange things and now I think I am among the living. I am trying to be good now.

Listening to my parents. I want to be like a little child like Christ said we must be. Like the Little Flower, who I follow, though I stubbornly prefer my Gemma.

I am bad to my parents. I will try to honor them more and obey better. I get frustrated at the mess.

Working on a Prayer

I was thinking about the Angelus and working on a prayer for children. I am writing a prayer book for children.

Make us good, Lord,
Make us pure,
So we hear Jesus
Knock our door.