The Christian God really pisses me off. He is a worse human being than I am. This fact has always found a heavy heart, a disappointment in terms of my salvation. Years of conditioning by the church and condemnation by scripture and I find myself doubting that this example of a divine entity could ever represent the actual Source. I think religion in general is misrepresentational. Every culture, every human revelation made, may have some validity to it but it is covered by interpretation, perspective and expressed like some exegesis. Apparently, you only get what you’ve paid for. The cold hard fact is we don’t have a clue so we get to pick and choose what truth we intend to follow on any given day. Often, we follow nothing at all. There is mercy in not knowing. Regardless of how we believe and what we believe, it’s all just one great big guessing game. If you choose incorrectly, you may end up burning yourself.
You would think, considering it all, that I am spoiled to the more esoteric parts of life. People think because I don’t jump for joy that joy is illusive to me. It can feel like TikTok or Instagram are the only viable methods for expression. Most people don’t value what you think unless you are wiggling your dick at a screen on Zoom or your ass in the air on Messenger. I record my life but only in print. I experience the same delights, the same joys as I ever would and in the same manner that other people do. If two men each have the same finger cut off they both feel exactly the same pain. They react to degrees. It is the same with joy. I just prefer to keep it to myself just in case someone decides to fuck it up. If you control the medium you control the message. My relationship with the universe is a private matter even though I may put fragments of it down in words. Having almost died back in 1995, I wake up each morning, and without fail, I thank whatever is out there that I am alive. I just haven’t figured out whether anyone is listening. It’s nice to think someone is. To know nothing, however, is to know everything. I am not much for labels but I assume I am both agnostic and a theist. I believe there is something, somewhere but I don’t have any idea what it is . Cut to video.
I have had some experience with the supernatural. Some may claim that religion falls under that heading but I am talking about the real spooky stuff. Throughout my life, ghosts and ghouls and creepy things have always been entertainment rather than fear mongrels. I have had a few run ins with the unknown. There is this petite young ghost-of-a-girl who has followed us from home to home. One night she decided to play with our electrical equipment. It freaked me out. On the way home from choir practice, years ago, I felt something evil behind me and it chased me until I got to the street lights. I was terrified. I have seen dead dogs and had dead cats crawl up beside me in bed. I saw my pet rat on the kitchen counter three months after I buried it. I have talked to dead people but only in my dreams. Lately, items about the house will appear then disappear only to reappear at a later date, in that exact spot. I’m not sure if it’s a parallel dimension trying to communicate, making contact. I had never been curious as to what these happenings might be. I have always believed the supernatural is just a remnant of actual reality. Since energy cannot die it must find another form. Video can be a useful thing, just go to YouTube and search for scary videos. I been watching a few. I’m not sure what I have been looking for but the other day I think I found it.
So there are these YouTube channels that offer hours of supernatural evidence. Vendors like Sir Spooks and Slapped Ham offer glimpses into a world I have rarely known. I’m not sure why I have been led to expose myself to these ideas and questions. I think the searching part of me has stopped to view things close up just in case I find an answer in all the drama. Is there proof of more in these observations?
After all these years, you would have thought I might have had enough. It’s like watching a car accident or Kanye West; its hard to look away from the horror. Most of these supernatural events (for lack of a better term) are much more tactile than when you’re scribbling down your interpretation in hindsight. It’s tough to takes notes as your running from a shadow figure. Sometimes you get a glimpse, usually when you least expect it. The clip had played almost all the way through. It was a countdown, a list of the scariest supernatural encounters that have been caught on film. A few sent shivers through me although those moments usually last as long as a slight chill. When the video started, a dark hallway rested in shadow and the doorway was illuminated and you could see its form. Suddenly but slowly, a ghoulish head peered around the door jam. The face was agony and misery and terror. I screamed like a little girl. At that moment, I remembered why I fucking hate video. Here’s the thing. After I explained to the house the reason for my outburst, I left the YouTube channel I had been watching and I left it on pause. When I came back the video was missing. I looked for days, searched and searched for even a photograph of the scene but I could not find a single shred of the evidence. For a second, I wasn’t sure if the experience was video or vision. I don’t care. Either way, the experience scared the living shit out of me. I’m not sure I have ever had that reaction to anything let alone a figment of my imagination. I have since gone back to my written words. Its different when you read about something, and write about something, rather than watching it. I have to say, Mr. Ghoul-Head comes across scarier via video.
Writing is much like reading a book. There is a formula to follow and it comes with some truth. I have always prescribed to the old skool idea of the written word as a catalyst for critical thinking and for objective consideration rather than the certainty that comes with other media forms such as video. It doesn’t matter the topic or the focus. Most media allows you to create a story but writing allows you to relate the story. When you put something on paper it stands as a testament rather than just another tale told at 6. I often sit my butt down and I unload for a few minutes. I scribble a few thoughts, then a few more, and eventually I have spilled myself and my fears all over a digital page. I bleed verse. Whether I’m free basing on God, or the unknown, or some supernatural visitation, writing is cathartic and at the same time a creature of structure and form. With video, you’re lucky to capture anything of substance or at least residue that is in focus. I don’t mind commenting on things like the supernatural but I am not comfortable being an actual part of the story. I’d prefer to write about something versus actually experiencing it. It has always been a pleasant thing to be able to sit down and express myself, I’m just not comfortable with anyone watching. I’m a messenger not the message.
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