"Pride, not suffering, then"

A friend on FB gave me that diagnosis.

I will give you the letter I wrote which prompted it, starting with the quote that prompted my letter:

"And you wander in poverty, unable to work, and too often despised."

I am poor because my work is not read. Or read only by people too poor too pay.

http://o-x.fr/vru is main index for right now, bibliography to left, own work column right. One of links gets to my musical site. It is not played, musicians are asking if I know how to play it myself, and I don't. And some are encouraging them precisely by claiming me psychologically unable to work and needing healing.

I could not face an employer as long as such a man could pity me for not yet having a wife and imagine himself called to be some kind of extra father for me. I've had such employers too often. So, I am not working as someone's employee. But that has nothing to do with not being able to work.

I could not work in a place where lots of Muslims tried to be my comrades. They would fail, partly from their own vanity (like the writer who claims it was such great tolerance to grant Christian mercenaries a Church, a priest and even a bishop) partly because I would need to be alone from them for a while, and partly because I do not want them in my future children's upbringing. And failing they would stamp me as islamophobic and mentally ill and in need of healing.

I got working out my Latin all right the day I read that thing about St Robert Bellarmine, remember, but that is work some people in Orthodox Church (key word Romanides, a Greek priest who studied in Harvard of all anticlerical places, who was a diabetic and thought that ALL religions except hesychastic orthodoxy as he read it were psychophysical illnesses) would stamp as illness symptom rather than as work.

If I were read, some misunderstandings would quickly be dissolved.

As long as I am not I am getting at least informally diagnosed as confused for positions not at all my own. It is even bad enough to be admired for them.

Hans-Georg Lundahl
6 Nov. 2009
G. Pompidou, Paris IV