A Catholic left

5.3.13

An upset stomach continues today, a glass of honey rum sits untouched, a bowl of oatmeal with bananas and a cup of tea didn’t stick around too long and dal bhat is soon, I’m just not hungry but you know if you don’t  eat this meal you’re gonna get really hungry. 

Los Angeles’ Skid Row is fifty 50 square blocks.  I just thought you’d like to know that.

The LA Catholic Worker’s motto is “Comfort the Afflicted and Afflict the Comfortable.”  Do we have provocative-non violent Catholics here?   Ok, I did some reading.  Dorothy Day.  I never heard the name growing up but I’m living a life of temporary poverty, so what about them?  The Catholic Left.  I got nine days.

5:59pm—Four Bangladeshi men check into rooms one and two.  The leader of the group wears a green striped polo shirt with four red stars on his pocket and for a second wondered, the stars looked real enough however when Maya scolds him for sitting in the garden without sandals because he’ll carry dirt into the room and who knows maybe into the bed though I must assume they are Muslims they should be washing their feet a lot, and…he snaps his fingers and someone runs up the two flight of steps and gives the leader his sandals.

Another day of no rain oh how I love rain up here.  Dusk descends; the men wish to purchase a local chicken to eat.  Negotiations for its price continue. 

5.4.13

If I were to arrive in the states today I’d have no choice but to head to the shelters in Skid Row.  Does that bother you at all?  Yes, it does but what else can I do?  It’s all part of a plan I cannot see.  I want God’s help, no, I can do it myself.  Really?  Your efforts have gone flat.  What about these Catholic Workers?  How much do I need to survive in the states, I don’t know.  Consider the cost of trying to get back to the Middle East, who’s gonna pick that tab up you lazy good for nothing.

5:03am—Mosquitos were unmerciful throughout the night.  There’s nothing I can do.  I slapped down a fat one, my blood staining the sheet, shit, I didn’t want that. 

Trust the Lord with all your heart and if you fail to do anything yourself, you’re screwed.  God is going to save you if you do nothing?  No.  This is a bummer thought, dude.  God helps those who help themselves. I never liked this mantra and I heard it a lot on Red Leaf.  Another one, the harder I work the luckier I am.  How in the world did ascetics’ two millennia ago manage? I needn’t worry about skid row, it is inevitable.  You know being dependent on the kindness of strangers is humbling, becoming a burden on the state isn’t as humbling because the face of the state is neither man or woman.  Nevertheless, it is wrong to rely on the state if I am capable of taking care of myself and by the looks of it this morning, Jack,  you got eight days to change the inevitable, I mean, I can do, I can try, to ensure a safe landing in burning California.  Lord Have Mercy on me, a sinner.

The Bangladeshi men opted out for the chicken and went to bed without dinner.  I did see them with bags of chips and water in the rooms. 

Mr. Kim’s photos were infinitely better than mine, at least in the sharpness and color, not so much the composition.  Imagine if I had had a nice camera here, two years ago I was here five months and didn’t have a camera so maybe this is just progress, right? 

The Banyon tree tap is giving water and people walk away with jerry cans on their backs.  A soft and uneventful sunrise, the mountains barely an outline at six.  What in God’s name am I going to do today? It will be hot again. 

Living on the streets doesn’t frighten me, it bothers the shit out of me.  When St. Vincent De Paul security started putting up high fences to control the growing hungry dogs of men and cats of women I was fortunate to be on my way. 

No matter how difficult it becomes remember there are many far worse off. 

1:20pm—Twenty seven children and men celebrated an annnual jungle puja in the jungle below the viewpoint, complete with baby goat, rice, and onions. Sumjana’s father, dressed in white, attended to the temple above the killing, cooking, and eating ledge and then he gave everyone a red, orange and black tika. This is one of the few men on the mountain who doesn’t speak a word of English.  Never a use, never a desire, what does a seventy seven year old man with ten children and two wives need another language for?

8:50pm—Strong house shaking winds now, a little rumbling and no rain again today.  I wonder how they would have cooked the rice and goat if it had rained.    

There is an argument to be said for hedonism if heaven does not have an external presence outside our heads.