The Stations of the Cross

So some people are sick. They say there are a lot of people at Elmhurst hospital. My older brother once spent time in the psych ward there. It did not help him. He said there was nothing to do but walk down the hall, turn around, and walk again down the hall. It made him crazier. I never was there. I know Jamaica Hospital better.

Things fall apart. I am saying my daily prayers. My brother and the girl are going out jogging daily. We cook dinner. Last night I made chocolate brownie sundaes. Everyone liked them. Michael said it was a good idea. I am fasting. Trying to juggle my rice and lentils routine with being a good host and cook. Tonight it will be rice and lentils, and I am making other random food, different kinds for different people. A frozen lasagna, two hamburgers. I like my hamburgers better than the one I ate at "Hamburger Heaven" on Lexington Avenue. But they are not special. All one has to do is buy ground beef from the grocery store and add a little salt and don't overcook it. One can add butter for flavor. I am not a vegetarian, though in an ideal world I would be. In an ideal world I would be a vegan and I would be healthy. From what I understand vegans have to take vitamins to make up for some nutrients that are lacking in plant sources which are normally gotten from eating animal products. One can eat eggs to make up for it, and not eat any meat. I guess that is the best way to go. Bread, rice and lentils, and one egg. With salt.

The buses are still running and they free now. But you have to enter in the back door so as to keep the drivers away from people so they don't get ill. I want to take the bus to Glendale on Good Friday. They have a Lourdes Grotto and outdoor Stations of the Cross which I plan on praying if it is not raining. I have my book.

Tonight I am drinking beer with my father. I have more than him. I have two large cans and then to bed. My father is having a 22. It is a precautionary measure to keep up the spirits. I am fine and happy. Even though I do not have many friends and I cannot go to Church. No visitors are allowed at the nursing home so I cannot visit Julian. I will try to talk to him on Tuesday.

My days are routine. Prayer at twelve, three and six. Then night prayer. And my little prayer when I wake and before I go to bed. Then the Rosary which I have been praying while walking. I take two walks, one to 102 st and one to Atlantic Avenue. Sometimes I change routes or take an extra walk. I cannot visit Churches. I look at Catholic websites on my computer and sometimes news. I cook dinner at night and eat. Different things, different nights. I talk to my family. I am uncomfortable around the girl as I do not know her. The centre cannot hold.

So it is not very stressful in this time of pestilence even though I am without the sacraments. I am keeping up and trying to make things a little happier by giving ourselves a little pleasure. Through food or drink. Or taking a hot shower. There are too many people in the house to indulge in a warm bath. My Little Office is getting worn out. I like the contents but it is a paperback and the pages are glued and not sewn. So it looks like it will soon begin to fall apart. I have a different version which is harder to pray and understand but is made better. I may have to start using that one. In this time of pestilence.

I feel alone. Alone with God. I feel at peace with God. So I am happy. But I do not have a lot of godly friends. There are other people from Church. Like Julian. But only a few. Cora and Karen talk to me and we send text messages to each other or talk on the phone sometimes. And angry Tom calls on occasion. They are good people. I think Cora in particular is very pious. She is always praying. She is seventy eight but I used to look at her and marvel at how beautiful she looked even though she was so old.

I wonder if it will get bad and we will have to eat nothing but rice and lentils soon. That would be nice. Maybe there will be a depression and things will never go back to normal. That would be fine with me as long as we don't starve to death and the government does not start torturing us for the pleasure. As the gulag captain said, "I do not just want your work, I want your suffering." So as long as the authorities do not go all sadistic on us and everyone does not start dying, I would be content with poverty.

They say that the good God takes care of the retards and the crazies. For my sake I hope that holds true in my case. So far in my life it has. The good God through my family has always taken care of me since I went crazy twelve years ago. I hope things will continue to go well for me. And if not, I hope I can learn to take care of myself. I wonder if one day I will end up in some kind of institution. I know a woman who lives in such an institution. They help take care of the mentally ill and the patients have a little autonomy. They can leave to go to the store or to Church, but they are there to take care of them when help is needed. If I found myself in such a place I would be happy.

I am looking forward to tonight. My indulgence of a little beer. With my father. I am lucky to have a family. Even though I am the only pious one in the family. I pray for them generally and I wish they would not watch television. I tell them not to and that it is the devil's tabernacle. But they don't listen to me. Oh well. Now it is a little past three. I will leave you now to say my prayers. In this time of pestilence say a prayer to the good God.

The Dead

Everyone is dead. The world is full of skeletons walking. Pestilence is our father. Worms are our sister. Dead bodies enlivened by necromancy.

I like to think of myself as a living creature. The living, the living. I pray for the dead. I hope I am alive. The living, the living. But I am a creature. A creature has a creator. The Office of the dead for a poor dead soul whom I love. One can pray for the living as well as the dead. Poor souls. Among the living as well as among the dead.

There is a famous sermon where a pessimistic sainted priest relates two private revelations where it is claimed that basically only one out of every ten thousand or so people who grow to adulthood are saved. It is something that people talk about on the internet where all everything ever written is kept in digital databases and people share the strangest things. Even I am not so pessimistic. Because these stories come down to us from times when the people were more pious. To think at a time where everyone went to Mass and everyone tithed and they built all those beautiful Churches which I have never visited and never will visit, as I am a creature of New York and will never travel to Europe or South America to see them. But it is frightening. To think that all of those souls who contributed so much to the Church and lived far better lives than we did are damned. Are there no children of God?

But in these times I try to have a heart full of love. I am just a poor creature. Of no account. I am of no account. One day a possibly drunken man came up to me and kissed my hand and said I was a good man. No I was a great man. It was so strange that it seemed like a hallucination. I spoke to him for only a moment and then went away. It was as if I was a noble lord and he was my peasant. Though he was an old man. I should have stayed with him. But that was a few months ago.

Nodoby knows me. Prayer in this time of plague. I am feeling okay. On the day after St. Patrick's day, when Michael arrived with the girl, I was so stressed out that I had to have some beer for the second night in a row. My father was worried so he drank with me to make sure I was alright. Then I finished and went right to bed. I am not an alcoholic, but sometimes, and it is not very common, I get stressed out, and when I do, I like to have beer and it cuts my nerves and helps me sleep, and usually I feel better in the morning. This time I felt better, and now, four days later, I am almost perfect. I still would like to go to confession. I did not fall into a new sin, but I was thinking of something I did a long time ago and felt remorse for it and a pain of soul came upon me. But Mass was cancelled and the Churches are closed. I may call a priest and ask if he could meet me so I could confess. I am young and have no symptoms so it would be no danger to him.

Prepare for death. For when it comes, it comes quickly, and the preparation for death is the only thing that matters in this life.

I am not afraid and my nerves are getting better. I just wish things would go back to normal soon. Pestilence is our father. Worms are our sister. Not that I am afraid. But I would rather be praying before the Blessed Sacrament than alone and I would rather eat heavenly bread than mere human bread, even the finest sourdough from the best bakery.

I may indeed go to the Lourdes Grotto again. But not tomorrow for it is supposed to be raining.

I was reminded of the Japanese director Kenji Mizoguchi and how he made some wonderful movies. If I ever get back into watching movies, I think his should be the first ones I watch. I don't like most movies anymore.

In this time of pestilence perhaps I should listen to more classical music. And maybe some old Church music. I have to go pray for the dead now. I am waiting for the time when there will be nothing to eat but rice. Everyone is dead. Especially here in New York City. The whole city is a mirage. A fantasy like the spirit house in "Ugetsu" and we are really living in ruins and desolation but our soul is tricked into thinking we are in a beautiful mansion. When will this veil be lifted?

The living. The living. Everyone is dead here in New York City. Everyone is dead.

No Churches Open

There are now no Catholic Churches open near me. Nothing during the week and now nothing on Sunday. Mass is cancelled. Starting on one of my favorite weeks of the year, Laetare Sunday. I  will not be seeing Father wearing rose. The Churches are all locked. I was thinking about trying to call a priest and arrange to go to confession. It would be nice to go if we will be without Mass for however long this lasts.

For a while I have had bits from Beethoven's 9th symphony stuck in my head. So now I am listening to it on my computer.

My father showed me a nice little Lourdes Grotto outside of St. Pancras Church in Glendale. We sat there for a while, nearby there was a bird feeder. It was relaxing. They also had stations of the Cross set up outside the Church. I think I may be going there at times on my own to pray. It is too far from my house to walk, but I could take the bus. If I pray there for a while it would be worth the bus fare.

But now with no Churches I will have to pray my prayers in the basement, or perhaps I can walk to the park and kneel down and pray there. I am not afraid of dying of this disease. I just hope we do not run out of money. I hope all of my dear readers are okay. As this is a nationwide scare. And even international.

A Family of Five

We are a family of five for the moment. Michael moved back home from Philly and he brought a girl with him. So now we are five. It is nice to have Michael to talk to anyway. We had dinner as a family last night.

In my diocese first they said that there will be Mass but the obligation to attend was suspended. The next day they cancelled all Masses but said the Churches will be open for private prayer. Today as I was in Church praying the janitor informed us that they were closing the Church. Now in our diocese all Churches are closed. I have yet to learn if our little SSPX Mission will be closed. As of last Sunday it was open, but things change quickly in times of pestilence.

I am not worried about getting sick. I am worried that a lot of people will lose their jobs and become poor and this illness will lead to a depression. I would not mind being poor if there was enough to have a place to live and some food. But other people would not like it if they are not as simple and want nice things. I just hope the government does not get all 1984 on us.

So now I have to say my prayers at home instead of in front of the tabernacle. The girl is in my room, I am in the basement and my brother is in the living room.

So we are a family of five now.

Thirty-Sixth Rose

In 1578 a woman in Anvers had given herself to the devil and had signed the contract with her own blood. Shortly afterwards she was stricken with sincere remorse and had an intense desire to make amends for this terrible deed. So she sought out a kind and wise confessor who advised her to go to Father Henry, one of the Fathers of the Dominican Friary, who was Director of the Rosary Confraternity in that town, to ask him to enroll her in it and hear her confession.

Accordingly she went to ask for him but met, not Father Henry, but the devil disguised as a Dominican Father. The latter scolded her pitilessly and said that she could never hope to receive Almighty God's grace again as long as she lived, and that there was absolutely no way in which she could regain possession of her contract. This grieved her greatly but she did not quite lose hope of God's mercy and sought out Father Henry once more, only to find the devil a second time, and to meet with a second rebuff. She came back for the third time and then at last, by Divine Providence, she found Father Henry in person--the priest whom she had been looking for--and he treated her with very great kindness, urging her to throw herself upon the mercy of Almighty God and to make a good confession. He then received her into the Confraternity and told her to say the Rosary frequently.

One day while Father Henry was saying Mass for her Our Lady forced the devil to give her back the contract which she had signed. In this way she was delivered from the devil by the authority of Mary and by her devotion to the Most Holy Rosary.