I went to the Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints this morning. I'm going back next week.

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I entered the church at about 8:45 AM.

It is a relatively large complex, recently constructed in Center City as of about 10 years ago. Quite large and ornate and frankly, somewhat tasteless, but a bit better than most modern construction.

Upon entering I was a bit lost, and not as many people we there as I thought there would be. However, a girl saw that I looked confused and asked me what I was doing there. I told her the missionaries had asked me to come.

Ah, ok, make sure you don't listen to them. I will show you where the judgemental liars hold their meeting.

I was somewhat confused by this, but I love it when people call a spade a spade, especially when they do it so brazenly in front of the spades, in the very house of cards they dwell in.

She told me her name was Caitlin, possibly Kaitlyn, but my manners were poor and I did nit ask her to spell I out for me. She was young, kind of pretty, with only one facial tattoo. Given her style of dress, facial tattoo, and the way she spoke of the Mormons, she was here for another reason. I thought maybe some sort of social outreach, but she was not any sort of addict. I know this, because as an addict can always spot another addict, and she did not give me any of that vibe.

She took me to the main hall of the church and sat next to me in the last row of pews. She made polite chit chat along the way, telling me that she was trying to work for the church, but they would not pay her, and she was trying to get a recommendation from one of the Church Elders.

She said that it was wise of my to come to this Church, it would certainly be good for business. She asked me if I was a lawyer.

I told her I was not, I work with (x).

She then told me she was the CEO of a company that worked with (X), and the company paid her negative six dollars, but gave her free Starbucks for life. She also told me she was in the navy.

I was beginning to get the sense that she was schizophrenic and trying to hit on me.

We spoke of Russian literature for a bit, and she was surprisingly well read, speaking of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, a we also spoke of Kafla for a bit.

The sermon then began. It was boring and uninspired and they allowed two women to speak about their periods or something. I dunno, I really wasnt paying attention. But midway through the service, she began whispering to me, that she wanted to show me something. She reached into her bag, and there it was, that most illusive and rare Holy Manuscript, something I always love seeing, and have always wanted...

The Schizophrenic's Notebook. These things are rare, and hard to get a hold of without robbing a schizophrenic. I've only seen a few before, but I love reading them. Really gives you direct access to the consciousness of someone who does not experience consciousness in the same way we do. And her notebook was the neatest I had ever seen; it had important scraps of paper stapled inside it with notes written on them, letterheads from different churches, including one of the Quaker meetings I have been to downtown, timetables for trains that are no longer operational, and some several business cards, all of these with notes connecting thoughts to things that seemingly shouldnt connect but somehow do. It was beautiful.

Just then one of the missionaries who had invited me spotted me, and moved to sit with us. She was not having any of that.

Don't sit next to me. I don't like you.

She really told that guy to shove off. Then she pointed out the various mormon men in the church that were stalking her by name, although she did mention that many of them were actually good guys, just misguided.

She left early abruptly for about 10 minutes, came back, tapped me on the shoulder, and said it was nice meeting you.

It seems as though she spends enough time in that church to know and be known by many of the attendees. I will go back next Sunday and see if I can talk with her again.

I entered the church at about 8:45 AM. It is a relatively large complex, recently constructed in Center City as of about 10 years ago. Quite large and ornate and frankly, somewhat tasteless, but a bit better than most modern construction. Upon entering I was a bit lost, and not as many people we there as I thought there would be. However, a girl saw that I looked confused and asked me what I was doing there. I told her the missionaries had asked me to come. >Ah, ok, make sure you don't listen to them. I will show you where the judgemental liars hold their meeting. I was somewhat confused by this, but I love it when people call a spade a spade, especially when they do it so brazenly in front of the spades, in the very house of cards they dwell in. She told me her name was Caitlin, possibly Kaitlyn, but my manners were poor and I did nit ask her to spell I out for me. She was young, kind of pretty, with only one facial tattoo. Given her style of dress, facial tattoo, and the way she spoke of the Mormons, she was here for another reason. I thought maybe some sort of social outreach, but she was not any sort of addict. I know this, because as an addict can always spot another addict, and she did not give me any of that vibe. She took me to the main hall of the church and sat next to me in the last row of pews. She made polite chit chat along the way, telling me that she was trying to work for the church, but they would not pay her, and she was trying to get a recommendation from one of the Church Elders. She said that it was wise of my to come to this Church, it would certainly be good for business. She asked me if I was a lawyer. I told her I was not, I work with (x). She then told me she was the CEO of a company that worked with (X), and the company paid her negative six dollars, but gave her free Starbucks for life. She also told me she was in the navy. I was beginning to get the sense that she was schizophrenic and trying to hit on me. We spoke of Russian literature for a bit, and she was surprisingly well read, speaking of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, a we also spoke of Kafla for a bit. The sermon then began. It was boring and uninspired and they allowed two women to speak about their periods or something. I dunno, I really wasnt paying attention. But midway through the service, she began whispering to me, that she wanted to show me something. She reached into her bag, and there it was, that most illusive and rare Holy Manuscript, something I always love seeing, and have always wanted... The Schizophrenic's Notebook. These things are rare, and hard to get a hold of without robbing a schizophrenic. I've only seen a few before, but I love reading them. Really gives you direct access to the consciousness of someone who does not experience consciousness in the same way we do. And her notebook was the neatest I had ever seen; it had important scraps of paper stapled inside it with notes written on them, letterheads from different churches, including one of the Quaker meetings I have been to downtown, timetables for trains that are no longer operational, and some several business cards, all of these with notes connecting thoughts to things that seemingly shouldnt connect but somehow do. It was beautiful. Just then one of the missionaries who had invited me spotted me, and moved to sit with us. She was not having any of that. >Don't sit next to me. I don't like you. She really told that guy to shove off. Then she pointed out the various mormon men in the church that were stalking her by name, although she did mention that many of them were actually good guys, just misguided. She left early abruptly for about 10 minutes, came back, tapped me on the shoulder, and said it was nice meeting you. It seems as though she spends enough time in that church to know and be known by many of the attendees. I will go back next Sunday and see if I can talk with her again.

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