29 September. Awake.

I went to bed around 11:45 last night, after cleaning up the dirty dishes, pots, and pans. I don’t know why I even expect to sleep through the night.

I know that I can find a Russian Orthodox. Mass on You Tube, broadcast live from St. Petersburg. The liturgy will calm me. Will it cause this sadness to leave? Who knows?

I’m watching a train pulling intermodal freight containers somewhere to load on container ships and take, either empty or full, to a port , somewhere in the world. There they will be emptied of their contents and filled, or simply filled with factory output of that region and shipped somewhere else in the world

Industrial output continues, despite the dystopian diatribes, because we need the shoes, chinos, machine tools, auto parts, condoms or brassieres the world’s factories produce. It is that simple.

Sorry folks. Our minds may think any number of thoughts, but our feet will always need shoes.

“It” Creeps Back In, Then Leaves.

I’m sitting here and negative thoughts, midnight black humour, creep back in to my consciousness.

In my dystopian nightmare, funeral homes will offer “End Of Life” Care, including euthanasia. The funeral home would advertise free euthanasia with every “pre-need” cremation or burial package. I know. That’s sick. Really, really sick. Just try and get it out of your head.

I’m trying to get back on track. First Justice Ginsburg dies. Then I watch some “British Hangman”Albert Pierrepoint videos on You Tube. And pretty soon, the macabre had seeped into every pore of my body.

I’ve started an emergency course of Cartoon Therapy. Popeye. Yes. I’m going with the big stuff. Maybe a nap is in order

Later This Afternoon

Rather than the nap. I took my power walk. I saw my neighbours and the dogs. Pekinese, Beagle, Yorkie(?), and, new to the neighbourhood, a French Bulldog. (Yes, they are cute!).

So with the miraculous help of my neighbours and their pets, it’s looking better. I feel the fresh air deep in my lungs, the simple beauty at the cusp of the seasons.

2.4 miles of restorative exercise.

Legacies 2020 Russia & America



Today, at a Cathedral in Ekaterinburg, Russia, TVSOYUZ is webcasting a liturgy with chanting, reverencing of the Holy Icons, lighting the long, tapered candles.

A young man in vestments, his long red hair in a ponytail chants before an icon in a rich baritone voice. The choir consists of four women, all wearing baboushkas, chanting melodically. Their chants and prayers are a contrast to the atheism proclaimed in Russia a century ago.

Ekaterinburg is where, 102 years ago, Nicolai Alexandrovich Romanov, his wife and children were murdered by the Bolsheviks, ideological first cousins of Anti-Fa and, on the strength of their manifesto, Black Lives Matter. Czar Nicholas II is now a martyr and saint. He and his family died for the Faith. Their icon is reverenced. The contemplation of an icon, in Orthodox and Catholic tradition, provides a window to God. Icons include the statues to the Saints, Our Lady and Our Lord, recently destroyed in America.

The Russians, you see, know how stories like Portland, Seattle, Kenosha, Minneapolis, and,now Rochester, end. They paid in blood, a million times over, at the hands of Lenin, Stalin, Berea.

As we watch the Götterdämmerung of American Liberalism, we mourn the passing of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. She lived to see American women rise to positions of power, in the professions, academia, politics, and government. American women attained equality, even breaking the glass ceiling of mendacity, venality, and incompetence, long the private realm of the George Wallaces, Jimmy Carters, and Richard Nixons.

Assuming she was lucid enough, she heard a Black Woman cheer the murder of another human being, calling the man “trash”. She saw, on the news, Leftist radicals, block the entrance to a hospital, where a wounded female deputy sheriff was being rushed after being shot in the line of duty. This is what equality in the workplace looks like in 2020.

But the liberals and feminists will continue to be driven by their illusions, hoping their dystopia won’t end as Russia’s did, discredited and disgraced, in the gulags and psychiatric wards.

I can safely guess that Portland and the rest of burning America was not Justice Ginsburg’s vision.

Sunday 13 September

Wherein I rediscovered myself..

I wasn’t lost for long really. But it doesn’t take long for negative self-talk to do its damage. Plus there aren’t a lot of Sunbeams For Jesus appearing on the news these days.

I was sort of dithering around with all the stuff I ought to be doing, but wasn’t. I did not ring the bell to get off the bus at the Corner of Diet & Exercise. You know what I mean?

But finally, attributes like inner peace, calm and freedom are working their way back in. Part of being set free involves shutting off the negativity. You do not have to believe lies.

The Truth is not a “personal” thing. The Earth is not round, solely for you. It is a sphere for you, for me, for Lady Gaga, and for Donald John Trump.

But I’m walking again. I’m controlling my intake of starches, sugars, and fats. Starches and Sugars and Fats, Oh my!

I take my blood pressure daily. It is trending downward.

It’s getting better..

Early. Too Early?

I slept maybe four hours before I awoke. I have been up about two hours, looking for entertainment (?) options on YouTube, as is my habit.

I caught the tail end of The Russian Orthodox Liturgy from a church in Moscow. Patriarch Kyril, Head of The Russian Orthodox Church, was there. He told a joke in his homily, which is odd for an Orthodox homily. But he is the Big Guy, so I guess he can if he wants.

Crazy Seeker, the Ukrainian metal detecting duo, were magnet “fishing” in an algae- choked pond in a swamp, somewhere in Ukraine. When the magnet wasn’t catching on submerged logs, they managed to pull up scrap iron that should have been recycled. But why recycle, when you can drive out to a swamp near Kiev, and toss it in a pond? The Ukrainian sense of fun is lost on Americans.

Finally Marina Morlock, The Russian Motor Mouth, decided to unpack her groceries for the entire cyberworld to see. It looked like she bought Russian delicacies in nice boxes that are microwavable. And we have thermonuclear weapons targeted to fall in the general proximity of where Marina lives. Really. We do.

No one is a citizen of any country anymore. Rather, we are all hostages. And we hold elections to decide who gets to hold the guns to our heads. But consider this. It’s better than having Stalin around , running things.

The Fruit Of This Mystery

When I get in the groove of the discipline of praying the Holy Rosary Of The Blessed Virgin Mary, I can repeat the fruit of each Mystety from memory before I pray a decade while contemplating that Mystery.. The Fruit is the benefit that come to those devoted to The Rosary.

The most intriguing fruit of the Mysteries is the fruit accruing to The Joyful Mystery of The Nativity. That fruit is POVERTY. Poverty. What we fear almost as much as cancer or death itself. The Nativity, that joyful season,devoted to the ostentatious display of wealth.Wait. I meant the joy that accompanies the Birth of Jesus.

Yet the Religious take a vow of poverty. They do something to earn a living, everything from simply asking for donstions to making cheese or bread or wine to keep the Order, the Community functioning

Poverty, a benefit? That doesn’t mean we want the poor to go without food or clothing or shelter. Poverty. Not for others, but for ourselves.

Consider poverty delivering us from the lure, then the trap of material wealth, the accumulation of things.

Look. I’m no poster boy for this. It’s deuce difficult. I’m not telling anybody to take this road.

Choose it for yourself., as we all must do to be truly free.

Thoughts. On What Attracts Me


Human beings are pretty complex creatures. Factor in their sexual turn ons and it is a real labyrinth.

I like women, no surprise there, just based on probabilities, given that I am a male.

I am as binary as a light switch. Get it?

And I like women who wear make-up, but not like a tart. I like perfume, subtle but memorable. Shalimar, used to get me excited. Ex-wife #1 wore it. I like the scent of patchouli too. Chanel #5? My God, YES!

Clothes. When a woman sleeps in one of my old dress shirts, no panties, I will be excited, as in E-R-E-C-T. Wear a dress, ladies, and you can own me. Underwear is like the creme filling in a Hostess Twinkie©, always a welcome surprise. Dress like you want to be undressed.

Most importantly, stay awake. And act like I’m worth being with.

Cultural Wilderness

The time is 1:31 AM (Eastern North America).I am listening to the Flower Duet from Lakme´ by Leo Delibes sung by a young soprano, Sarah Shafer The other vocal part is taken by a flautist. Now Ms. Shafer is singing the Casta Diva from Norma by Bellini.

The Casta Diva is a challenging piece in the operatic repertoire. Truth be told, I love bel canto opera. My wife? She doesn’t understand.

Now Beethoven’s Violin Concerto performed by Itzhak Perlman, violin and Der Berliner Philharmoniker, Daniel Barrnboim conducting.

This is absolutely sublime beauty, I have ignored for too long.

High Culture is part of the common ground we, as human beings all share. Open the concert halls and the opera houses. End the lock down as soon as possible.