just... so... random...

toothpastefordinner.com

the House of Anger

So I'm back in Vancouver and back in my place.... Stunned is a good word for how I feel right now, so is dismayed. I havn't even been home a week and my house-mate T is going manic and really agro.

I just got home from a day of bike repairs and errands and she comes out and with a defensive posture and tone of voice starts giving it to me about how the kitchen is always dirty and how there needs to be some kind of chore roster set up for everyone. While I agree having a good understanding of how this place gets clean is a thing we could all use but I had to remind her that I've been in Portland for the past week and that I am pretty good about getting my own dishes and stuff clean. Then she goes off on a tangent about something she bought for a friend and I go into the kitchen to unload my groceries. T comes into the kitchen and gives me five dollars because she ate a bunch of my veggie sausages. I tell her it's no big thing but she insists and I ask that in the future if she wants to have some of my food it would be better if she seals it properly and I'm in the middle of telling her that she's welcome to eat anything of mine that isn't specifically labled and she cuts me off and starts telling me that she doesn't need my food and that she's got more money than I do anyway. At that I had to tell her I needed some space and couldn't talk with her she gets all "what ever" on me and I go into my room ostensibly to check my e-mails and write this bitch-post. The family downstairs has been in a fight over something or other since I came into my room, I can hear the various members weighing in on something and they have been getting really in to it, all of this floats up through my air vent so that if I were really interested (which I'm not) I could probably hear every word.

I am reminded that next week is the start of February and that means that I have two months left on this lease. Thank God I only have two months left on this lease.

My Goodness it's Portland outside!

Came down to Portland-towne after that confrence in Olympia. (I'll write a proper entry about my thoughts and such when I get home).

I have a few friends down here thanks to the internet. While I malign the web often I can't deny, it does have it's benefits. Also I love Portland, of all the cities I've visited in the US I think this one is my faveourite. So many punks, and activists and labour people and wobblies and bicycles... and then there's Powells. Powells is the mecca of new/used bookstores in the Pacific North West, in my world equal only to Shakespear and Company for sheer awsomeness. They also have a zine store here called Reading Frenzy! Portland is nuts about indy presses, I'm not sure but I think that more zines get made in PDX than in any other Western North American city.

Last night I got a ride into town with someone leaving Olympia and I stayed at the house of two other book sellers (both employed by Powells). It was really awsome to wake up to a blue sky and an outside temperature which had me blessing the cool air rather than cursing it. My hosts were more than hospitable, we stayed up late talking about our experiences the day before and then in the morning they bought me breakfast at a great co-operative cafee called the red and black.

For those of you who read this blog you might know that I've been on a diet while in Canada, I hoped I'd be able to maintain it on the road but have found it much easier to just eat what everyone else is eating, this could have been a disaster except that the people and placed I've been staying are all vegitarian and vegan friendly so I have positively been rocking the tofu and beans and veggies. I got to the place I'll be staying while I'm here and they had veggie enchiuladas whith ground-round, I need to get the recipe, they were dry and cold being the left overs from the night before and they didn't have any sauce on them but they were so good just as a kind of sandwich almost... lots of cheeze on them. yum.

the folks at the Olympia CW shared with me their idea to one day compile a recipe book of Catholic Worker favourites from arround the world, and have included with each meal a story (if one exists). I think this is an amazing idea personally, it could be a real benefit to a lot of worker communities who could sell copies to raise funds and it could fill a need I think exists for people who are just starting out in this vocation who might want to open a soup kitchen for instance but are daunted by the thought of cooking for hundreds. It could also benefir people like me who like to have good food that comes along with stories. I suppose that only time will tell if this ever happens but after recieving a copy of a cook book called "The Secrets of Jesuit Soup Making" I am convinced that anything is possible.

Today I went to Powells with some friends and bought a copy of "Seraphim Rose His Life and Works" By Hieromonk Damascene Christensen. I've written to Fr Christensen in regards to printing stuff by Fr. Seraphim Rose in the zine and I know he's been at the Monastery in Platina CA for a long time but it was a surprise to me to discover that he is so distinguished. I am really looking forward to reading it. I had a few other books in hand as I approached the case looking for stuff by Fr. Seraphim and when I saw that book I had this feeling of not needing the other ones nearly as much as I ought to have that book, so I put down my Hildegaard and Josephus and bought the biography of Fr. Seraphim, I also found a copy of a book I've been looking for since I was in LA "Prayers for the Domestic Church" so both of those an issie of craphound and some other random ephemera make up my shopping experience of Portland. I was going to buy some new bondage pants because my mom accidentally took my old ones to the sally ann but the store where I bought my last pair didn't have any good ones left, it's dissappointing because I really liked them and because they tend to be really expensive everywhere else I've looked. Maybe I'll have to order a pair off the internet.

oh well. I have a real journal to finish writing in and it's getting kind of late here. I've been invited to mass with a friend here and I don't want to miss it. It will be the first Catholic Mass I've attended since Baltimore. Ok so that's it for now, pray with me that I get to bring this Portland weather up the coast with me when I come home.

peace
Chris

toothpastefordinner.com

Msgr. Vlad Bozyk 1915-2006

It was late this December when I got the call from my mom that my great Uncle Fr. Vlad Bozyk had died. I had only been able to meet him for the first time this past summer on my way home from Jonah House. He lived in Winnipeg and was a part of that side of my family that for various reasons I never quite got to know.

Vlad was my Grandma's favourite relative and often would tell stories about growing up in Winnipeg. Her favourite one of him was how when they were both children he would play at baptizing her dolls. I often think about that story when I think about vocations and what it means to be called to any sort of life.

Vlad Bozyk was the son of another Ukranian Catholic priest, Fr Pantelemon Bozyk, who had converted to Catholicism during the great depression because the Ukranian Catholic church had better pay than the Ukranian Greek Orthodox and he needed to be able to support his family.

It was really remarkable that I was able to meet him at all. I was on my way home and I heard that he was ill and I jwanted to get the chance to meet him in person so my mom arranged for me to stay with her Godmother in Winnipeg for a few days. It was a tense time for me there, I was struggling with my understanding of my faith and thinking very seriously about joining the Old Catholic church uppon returning home.

I don't think that I was a very good house guest, the little Ukranian lady who put me up was always insisting I eat, eat and eat more. Not that the food wasn't good (home made perogies and borcht, yum) but it is a different matter when you are offered little other choice (eat this you look hungry, why aren't you eating more, you should eat more). It was a good visit though and a perfect ending to my pilgrimage, As well as visiting with Fr. Vlad I went to the grave of Louis Riel and I saw various other historical sites including this beautuful cathedral (St. Boniface) which had burnt down in the 1960's leaving only the ruined outer walls, the interior was rebuilt but the old cathedral encircles it like and English ruin.

I only spent an hour with the Msgr. he was 91 and tired easily, he didn't at first know quite who I was but remembered a bet that he had made with my Father over the outcome of a federal election back in the 80's. I told him a little about my trip and about my desire to live in voluntary poverty as well as the vocation I feel towards the Catholic Worker movement. He was I think a little surprised, it's not every day that someone breezes into your appartment and tells you that they want to live in poverty and service to the poor. He kind of laughed when I told him and his reply was "you'll have it... you'll have it". He gave me some advice, advice that I ought better to commit to memory, I wrote it in my travel diary and I'll write it again here:
"Think Clearly" and "Be Practical" were the two phrases he repeated to me with insistance. I admit it's a lot harder to do than it is to write. There have been many times since I returned when for any number of reasons I refused to do either one or both of these things. Perhaps in some areas I continue in my own obstinacy.

Think Clearly

and

Be Practical

they are in separable in some ways, pragmatism is not generally the hallmark of muddled thought, and it amazes me when I think of it how often and how difficult it can be sometimes to want to think clearly, or to make the decisions which is most practical. In my own life right now I can think of a couple of situations where my refusal to do one of the two has or is keeping me at odds with my own life and holding me back from getting on with it. I can think of at least twice in the past two weeks where my refusal to think clearly almost cost me my job by me walking out of it in utter frustration, leaving me with one month in which to somehow find another life for myself again.

The other thing that Fr. was concerned about was that I have a community in which to share in my faith. He asked me if there was anyplace in Vancouver where I had that kind of fellowship, I can't remember what I told him, doubtless it was somewhat awkward I didn't get into all the struggles I was having within myself over where I would go to worship when I got home. He also suggested that I considder Holy Orders, it's a thought which has crossed my mind and which seems to get suggested to me quite regularly by friends and family. but for me to even begin to prepare myself for that kind of service I need first to be practical and clear in thought about that still pressing issue for me: Where is it that I should worship?

So recently I thought I had that one sussed, I took my friend Barrett's advice and thought about my past relationships and tried to find some clues as to how I ought to proceed. I did gain some important insight, I was able to see my church hopping as part of a larger pattern of behaviour which has marked my life since early childhood. I thought to my self after that revelation that perhaps the only thing I could do was to stay within the Roman communion, despite the fact that it is an institution that through it's own claims about it's infalliabillity and through it's own grasping and chasing after worldly power and temporal authority has built for itself a fortress of lies so thick that it would take a miracle to break itself free.

I thought to myself that perhaps my call is to stay in the Roman church and be a witness to the faith which is uncorrupted by the sins of it's hierarchy but how am I to do that? I'm not without sin myself and in areas much like these, no one can cast the first second third or even last stone at that wall. Indeed the only thing that could really begin to heal the Catholic church is humillity, there has been recrimination and schism enough. So what do I do? I wrote to my friend Fr. Steve Kelly asking his advice and then later thanking him and telling him--while still confident in it myself--that the conclusion I had come to was to remain in the Catholic church after all as the wise saint once observed "She may be a whore but she is also my mother".

I went to the Arch Diocese of Vancouver website in search of a local parish where I could settle in, looking over all of the different church websites I had a horror of it all, recoiling inside myself at the thought of once more becoming a hermit amidst my fellow parishonners, once again going to worship somplace where I would have to remind myself that I am there for the blessed sacrament and not to hear biggotted and reactionary preaching against homosexual Christians or appeals for monney to fund missions in the third world while there are poor, starving and dopesick people standing outside the church, ragged usshers hoping for that second yet un-willing collection.

Again tonight I've just been told by one of my friends that I should become a priest, but in what church? I don't believe that anyone should be forced to decide between marriage and holy orders, and my views on Christianity have changed so much since I left last winter for Ecuador and then Portland, LA, Calgary, Ottawa, Utica, NYC, Baltimore, Toronto, and Winnipeg. So many roads and so much time and thought now stands between myself and the Catholic church.

I went to Great Vespers at Saint Nina's Orthodox mission after coming back to the city from Tsawwassen and Christmas with family, I was greeted by friendly faces and good people who I look forward to worshiping with, if only at evening prayers. I think about Fr. Chris, my friend, the priest of this mission and the only person in this whole city whom I felt confident enough to ask to be my spiritual director. I think about the fellowship that I have had with these people and recognise therein that this sort of community was exactly what I spent all that time on the road praying for.

And once more I am reminded of Fr. Vlad's last words to me and I thank God for the gift of writing, so very often in my life it is the thing which helps me the most to sort out my life.

Msgr Fr Vlad Bozyk, thank you for your words, your life and the impact you have had not only on me but on my Grandma and on the countless people whom you served through ministry.

you are in peace.

burnt out

I just did a marathon zine editing session, four hours of tweaking, re-editing and fighting with an un co-operative printer. it's been printing really poorly for a few months and now it's goten to the point where the zine just doesn't look good enough to take to the print shop. Hopefully Mike will be able to print it at his place and then I can use that one to do the print run this month. uggh.

I had to re-construct the whole zine and I'll have to do it again tomorrow or the day after so that I can have both versions as word doc files (I keep them both in pdf and word)

Josina, those photos saved my ass this month, I used almost all of them and the ones I didn't use this month I plan on using in future issues. I'm so tired. I have to go to a clinic tomorrow at noon, I've got to sleep.

I'll e-mail the zine out tomorrow probably I made both editions.

sonic youth is really good 4:00am music