Category Archives: Psychic

A Clean, Well-Lighted Place

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I watched “Call Me By Your Name” a couple of days ago and I had major Buffynicities. First, I was still raving about how magical it was that Spiegelman means “mirror man” and so Margo is Through The Looking Glass into the Paper Towns. Then at dinner the guest quoted Bunuel:

Cinema is a mirror of reality, and its filter.

Which blew me away. Secondly I had just looked up an interview with Cara Delevingne in which the interviewer was pointing out that he was wearing the gayest shirt he could find, and then I watched the scene in which Elio is embarrassed because his fathers’ gay friends have bought him a similarly gay shirt.

And then there was the third in the string of four Buffynicities in the last week around the name Bettina. First she was the princess in the first episode of the Monkees I watched last week, then she showed up as an imaginary girlfriend in Paper Towns. Then they mention minister Bettino Craxi in Call Me By Your Name. And then yesterday I was sorting through a pile of old papers and found a book with photographs by Bettina Rheims. I also was looking up the cast of Paper Towns and found that one of their middle names is Elio, just like the character in Call Me By Your Name, a name I couldn’t remember encountering before these two films.

What does Bettina mean? It’s short for Elizabeth and Benedetta. Benedetta was a great movie by Paul Verhoeven, that’s all I can think of. But it’s still spectacular.

Today I decided to summon Alice Wakefield again, because it worked out so well last time. When I was at the convenience store getting my Nitro Cold Brew “Rocket Man” was playing. That was kind of depressing, being reminded of my naive emotions in the 70s when I trusted hit radio and trusted rock music. Then, as I came back to my office there was a car in the street blasting “Take A Chance On Me”, the old ABBA song that Genvieve has always used – but it was a different version with a male voice. That is interesting because in “Lost Highway” the issue is that Fred Madison has lost his mind because he’s suddenly seen the male side of his wife, or Alice Wakefield. However it’s very reassuring that I got results – even before I drank the Nitro Cold Brew. I barely watched the video because I was so busy typing this. I’m very excited about writing now. Paper Towns has been a breakthrough for me, and my main obstacle seems to be personal boundaries. What do I want to reveal about myself? What is it actually a spiritual thing to reveal about myself? I wanted to write like the beats, but they were all miserable in the end.

Yesterday my search for Margo Roth Spiegelman led me to Margot Hemingway, and Ernest Hemingway. I was seeing them all day. I even had a fantasy that Cara Delevingne was somehow playing Margot Hemingway in the movie Paper Towns. Margot was very straightforward. I talk to spirits all the time and she was somehow a stabeilizing presence.

I’m feeling a spiritual light all around me now, a bliss that is taking me out of myself.

When I found out that Margo Roth Spiegelman means “Pearl Red Mirror-man” I realized that Margo is somehow the same as Alice in Wonderland and I went through the looking glass. I allowed the raw feelings inspired by this movie to be a reality for me, unanalyzed. All of my feelings about entertainment changed. John Green is such a wonderful new presence – although I’ve known who he is for years, this is the first story of his I’ve finished and I’m so glad that life is going on, somewhere in the world of entertainment. I’ve only seen Paper Towns once. In earlier years I would see movies like this several times but instead I’m using all my skills at self-hypnosis and theta states to make these memories magical, and my process is an overwhelming success. This is the most beautiful entertainment experience I’ve had in years.

So Margot reminded me of Margot Hemingway, who reminded me of Ernest Hemingway and then I was sure that Margot was going to help me get used to being in the afterlife, in a higher world. Ernest told me that we were finally going to see “a place” in the afterlife because I get so tired of just seeing the faces of spirits and not having any idea where I’m supposed to be directing my energies. Today I remembered that “A Clean, Well-Lighted Place” has always been my favorite Hemingway story and this is the “place” he was referring to yesterday. So that’s amazing evidence to me that this communication from Margot and Ernest is genuinely coming across layers of my subconscious. The phrase “a place” was clear, and then the memory of the story came and now I feel, just as Paper Towns is recalling me to genuine feelings of enthusiasm for life I lost forty years ago, that Hemingway is calling me back, as Eliot says, “to arrive where we began and to know the place for the first time.”

I felt a majestic, spiritual beauty around me this afternoon, as though genuine holiness was being restored to my world.

I’ve been watching this video over and over. The simplicity of it is mesmerizing. I feel reborn. The feeling of being excited just to run somewhere and not know what’s going to happen – I lost it decades ago but now I remember, and for the first time in decades I can have sympathy for souls that want to come to this planet, just to experience that adventure. I can forgive them for wanting to be in this awful world, even as I feel myself being released from it.

Additionally, I think there is some symbolism to explore associated with the goddess Mafdet – “The Runner” – as they run through the night to wreak vengeance on the “vermin”.

Hemingway has urged me to try to write for real again. I have a few sentences I’m working on. I’m very happy and excited because months ago I rekindled my enthusiasm for this blog, hoping to create beautiful memories for myself and now I am a complete success. This days-long experience of indulging in the emotions around Paper Towns will last a lifetime, I know. I didn’t believe I could recreate anything this powerful again, but I have. And furthermore, I have gone “through the looking glass”. My inner and outer worlds are not as confused anymore. I am writing for the world “out there” just so I can enjoy being out there. I’ve never felt so hopeful that I could discover who I actually want to be as a writer.

4/17/2020 Time has got nothing to do with it.

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Brian Dennehy is dead.  “Time Has Got Nothing To Do With It”.  That’s a key song from my movie and I’m thinking of Brian Dennehy and I want his advice in the spirit world.  I just rediscovered this blog and I was wondering what to use it for, and now I think I’m going to use it for raw capturing of my insane psychic states.  My Tumblr will be for something else, and the one on my Wix site will be inspiring.  More important than recording the states exactly, perhaps, is to focus on what they communicate.  I was trying to overcome them completely but then I found this one with Brian Dennehy contained meaningful information.  So Brian Dennehy is going to be one of my spirit guides on the journey to the kingdom of dreams.  I’m very excited as I write this, knowing I’ve hit on something.  I’m pulled in two directions.  I’m glad the old magic is back.  I want to get my rocks off and post this, like Norman Mailer knowing I’ve slipped the hot beef injection into the collective unconscious one more time, but then I want to hold off.

And now I’m having a blast, laughing to myself about how crazy this is.  I have to move past “cadence” with it, though, as I write and not try to find meaning, but look for the rhythm.  I have to rock like Mick Jagger.

Eric the Red, Chris, and Tony the Tiger

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A new flash today of [E] and [C] being brother and sister, and the three of them inviting me to be a part of their X-Men fantasy.  Reading the X-Men Omnibus is flashing me back on those days of emotional involvement with fantasies of groups.  I had the idea of an occluded history with those three, that they were soul mates, that [E] was actually the leader, the reincarnation of Ian Fleming.  He had to hide his incestuous relationship with [C] and that was why he had to commit suicide.

Then as the day went on I was “escorting” the inventory team and thinking about how dark and small my life has really been, but now it’s changing, it’s like an acceleration down the tunnel.  I’m getting closer to reality — closer to emotional reality with this collapsing of certain dream layers and localization in the self.  I wish I could remember all the details.  I was having so many as I ran just now.  It does seem much more possible that there are people in another world waiting for me.  And I was allowing the energies to pass through the structures of my past, my experiences of having to assimilate to middle America, to their beliefs about time and responsibility.  I feel much better now knowing I can escape completely and they were always wrong, anyway.

In the fantasy those three were helping me under the guidance of the Angelic kingdom.  Just as I wrote that I got flooded with energy and had to stop.  Then I came back after I formed the intention to use the energy on behalf of myself, and realized that the general effect of this set of fantasies is to restore my involvement with linear time, and my ability to perceive that these relations and experiences are in the past.

Even though it feels like a semi-solid darkness spreading out through all of my dream-life, bringing me “down” into blackness, I believe this is the solidity of personality I’ve needed, even the “grounding” I’ve heard so much about.  I’ll be able to separate from other people now and so have constructive relationships.  I’ll probably be able to perceive inner worlds as well.

Especially during the run I just finished I was shifting my awareness to the knowledge that the dominant paradigm of America was never real, and there are people waiting for me somewhere.  My angels seem clearer than ever.  This new, X-Men version of [E], [T], and [C] is symbolic.  Could they be [C], [J], and [A] again?  I don’t know.

 

 

Wandering In Chicago

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I love riding the El around Chicago.  I love to read everyone’s aura.  I think sometimes I’m coming close to understanding what I’m looking for . . . I just spent three hours playing “Metropolis” tonight, when I should have been studying for a “Theories of Personality” test . . . I was surfing the profiles of people I’ve never met and never will . . . there’s a vague outline of something, a pattern that is emerging to explain the terrible disappointment I’ve always felt in humanity . . . 

It’s a psychic understanding.  I almost had it a few seconds ago when I started this blog entry, but then it disappeared.  So much of my life is strange layers of energy that just shift and then the meaning of the previous moment vanishes into nothingness.  What held me together in this world?  Magic, I guess.  I’m a magical being, truly psychic now, able to act as a conduit for messages from the other side . . . and yet where is my home?  What the hell am I supposed to be focused on?  And the answer to that question comes easily but I can’t write it down because it’s yet another weird layer of energy . . . I wish I could have just been with people . . . just communicated with them instead of having to always skirt the issue . . . on the other hand I’m certainly glad I’m not “normal”, don’t have to worry about Obama vs. McCain or the Rwandan genocide or anything like that.  

Sigh, what a strange melancholy of anti-nostalgia . . . one might say I miss the future.  I can’t wait to leave this world and go into the light.

A night to remember

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Occasionally I’ll get drunk as a way of kicking my psychic awareness to the next level, or making some huge adjustment that sobriety would prevent.  Alcohol makes one susceptitlbe to spirit influence.  If I wasn’t practicing positive spirit contact daily it might be dangerous but generally I know who’s around me before I go.  Now I’ve really done something enormous, taken a quantum leap in perception and separated out two strands of my consciousness I can barely understand.  Like most people I have a river of psychic information flooding through my mind at all times, and like most people lower energies in my aura have been “covering up” a lot of that information until now . . . but all my work is paying off and I am finally becoming able to separate the layers.  

It’s like I have been leaving three or four lifetimes I wasn’t aware of, or like taking an old photograph and separating the layers of color with photoshop or something.  Any conversation or interaction I’ve ever had I can “replay” from a different angle and see the auras involved, the energies and even get a hint of the higher spirits.  

It’s a trip, I’m telling you.

The Big Shadow

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for most of my life I’ve felt a big shadow around myself and other people — it’s always been difficult to define what i felt was wrong with me, why i never felt comfortable just “being”, why i could never accept people or situations the way they were and had to always be looking for a deeper meaning.  

somehow my aura shifted and this darkness turned out to be some kind of force, a presence in my aura that i had to allow.  it was actually the wind in my sails, the force that was pushing me through life.  this shadow wasn’t really dark, it was a level of consciousness that i could not see, and so it only appeared dark because i couldn’t look at it.  i couldn’t look at it because i falsely believed there was something i needed to learn or do in this world; i had tremendous guilt that i wasn’t living enough, wasn’t fulfilling the purpose of my life.  maybe it was left over from my last lifetime.

it seems like i’m about to accept this difference.  i couldn’t do it before because i would have felt like a failure, i suppose, as though i was missing out on a normal life.  i never wanted to be weird.  i always wanted to understand everything so i could “get my life together” and be highly effective.  actually, i wanted to be a rock star, so i went out and acted like one not realizing that a rock star without millions of dollars to squander is pretty pathetic.  

i don’t actually know what’s happening but my long work at shamanism and channeling is paying off.  i’m getting stable with these perceptions and i don’t know what is happening but it feels like i’m about to have that dramatic change i’ve always wanted — the one where i finally figure out what’s going on.

Kind of like the movies . . .

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this is like a scene from “highlander” or something, i’m drawing all kinds of energy into myself which has a palpable reality, like syrup . . . similar feeling to that i had a couple of years ago, waking up from a dream about Oshun.  i felt the air thick all around my head, as though i had carried the dream back with me into the world.  i posted about that on my myspace blog.  i’ll have to cross-post this there.  basically these little fleeting glimpses of higher consciousness which i get take a couple of years to work their way down until they’re fairly consistent.

so now i have this etheric “syrup” all around me and i’m getting to the point where i can actually “link up” or “sync up” with all these people with whom i’ve had extraoridnarily frustrating realtionships over the last couple of years — people who i’m obviously psychically connected with but with whom i somehow never have the time or ability to be around.  now i’m out in chicago and most of them are back in that craphole grand rapids . . . some are in toronto . . . south africa, even.  people i’d like to connect with in some way but cant.  

i look down through the syrup, my “assemblage point” or whatever you want to call it moves through this morass of energy picking its way so i can finally see the energy that’s actually linking these people up.  don’t know what you call it but it works.  

the big mystery is, by the time this is all over, this 2012 thing or whatever it is, none of us will be even remotely as we imagined we ought to be.  we’re all becoming something entirely new and Other.

Twenty Years Gone . . .

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4/17/2020 – another “imaginary” post, the result of PTSD.  there were no fights during this time.  my mind was weaving together images of violence.  it’s interesting to see the evolution because in this post I’m wondering about [s] as though he were a friend, and only later did I realize he was a complete scumbag who hated me and used me.

turning 39 tomorrow.  i am a success in life because i have escaped the material plane.  i have attained psychic powers which assure me that there is a life beyond this shitty world.  that alone is such a relief that i can’t bring myself to care about anything else.

i’m remembering the late 80s now, when i was an atheist who somehow thought rock music was spiritual.  what evil stupid people i was surrounded by!  my friends father, a lay minister, who had murdered his first wife in a bid for insurance money and went on to murder his third as well.  that guy they called Stoney who shot two people just for the hell of it.  my first music theory teacher who tried to destroy my career — though there is some justice for he was found guilty of academic misconduct and his career was ended.  should i relish the knowledge that he was so bitter because his heart was dying and he had no money to fix it?  i helped kill him by providing evidence by which his enemies took his job away.  and there was that evil skank [t], the wanna-be drug dealer i had a war with.  boy, what a bunch of interesting people i knew!

so much violence, so many fights i can barely remember that blend into fantasy because i have post-traumatic-stress disorder and my memory is so bad.  and yet this same “phantasmagoric” quality of my mind is what opened me to shamanism.  and now i am in triumph over my past.  because the sheer ugliness of my teenage years was the sense of being trapped and isolated that had no meaning or value, where people were cruel and soulless liars and manipulators and all the things i loved i could only see from a distance and never touch.

now however i know there’s an afterlife, and all those ugly people of my past must stand and justify themselves before the vision i now hold, the vision i fought for and won with a river of blood sweat and tears.

all hail the Church of Art Triumphant!

“twenty years gone” is a variation of the song title “ten years gone”, which i listened to with [S.] in the parking lot one night, slightly drunk i think, god how music was an angelic, erotic solace in those days.  all those friends of my youth gone forever (though i could probably find them in a minute on the web).  [j] and bob i know have passed on.  [s] probably i have changed too much.  erik and jeff i never want to see again.  was there anyone else?  [c] never replied to my last e-mail.  was there anyone else?  what else was there?  not much.  i don’t miss them.  no nostalgia, just a weird, earth-shattering sensation of vertigo as i realize that magic was real even then, that who i am now is far more important, that i eventually did find the magic i sought, the escape from the vileness that is peoria, illinois . . .