Mind Over Matter
One day in the 1930s my father and a friend Billy Condino
of Lexington Massachusetts were delivering some building materials to a business. My father went inside to take care of the
paperwork while Billy began to unload the truck.
When my father came out all the items were sitting on the sidewalk.
One was a barrel. My father asked how the barrel got on the sidewalk. Billy said he put it there. My father asked again thinking
that Billy was kidding him. Billy swore that he did it. Then my father told him that the barrel contained nails and weighed
three hundred and fifty pounds.
Billy said he didn't know what was in the barrel and had simply
lifted it easily from the truck. He estimated that it weighed about forty pounds. After my father told him the contents and
weight Billy tried again to lift the barrel and couldn't even budge it. It took both of them to carry it inside.
February 25, 2006
11:36 AM
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Telekinesis in West Virginia
At my eastern club as I write. Just had lunch with a chap named
Harold from Maryland who told me a story about a man he knew in West Virginia in the late 1950s.
Harold had heard that the man had the ability to move objects
without touching them. The man had grown up doing this and took it for granted. Because of other peoples reactions he tried not to use the ability, but would sometimes do things without thinking.
The sensation experienced by the man was that of moving the objects
with his eyes. For example if a saltshaker were out of reach he would look at it, then move his eyes sliding the saltshaker
across the table to him. He said that when he tried to move something too heavy he would feel a painful tug on his eye muscles.
Harold asked him for a demonstration and held a two by four stationary
at a thirty degree angle. The man made a shot glass slide from the low end to the high end at the normal speed one would do
it by hand.
April 6, 2006
1:55 PM
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The Temple of Hecate
Spring 1985. I briefly become persona-non-grata at my favorite
nightclub in Boston because a domineering barmaid is angry that I do not return her affections. Here I am on the town, all
dressed up, with no place to go.
Decide to see how the other half lives and go slumming just for
tonight. Having been to all the nightclubs, I visit every sexy bookstore and every variety of peep show known to man. One
of these later should truly be requisite field study for young gynecologists.
Then I come to a strange little theater where there is a large
central round chamber surrounded by small private booths. People get quarters, enter a booth, and put a quarter in a slot.
This causes a curtain to drop allowing the booth occupant to see what is going on in the chamber.
So I get my quarters and go in. As I stroll around the outside
circumference I hear a loud sound every few few seconds as though someone is punching the booth wall from inside with brass
knuckles. I hear the same sound again at another booth and then others as I pass.
Finally I come to a booth where the door is open and see a man goosing
himself mercilessly as he gazes into the inner chamber. The noise is made by his elbow hitting the wall. Unavoidable because
the booth is so tiny. I keep walking and hear this sound at seven or eight of the booths as I walk the periphery.
When I come to the point of origin I retrace my steps to a quiet
empty booth and, with eager anticipation, put my quarter in the slot to see what all this fuss is about. And then I see her
-
Oh yes! - the Mistress of Mistresses! Tall and shapely with
ghastly white skin that has a subtle bluish gray quality. Raven black hair. Large firm grapefruit breasts, short wasp waist,
radical hips, upright protruding buttocks, long legs, and an exotic, cruelly beautiful face.
I have seen hundreds of beautiful naked women, but this
is by far the most desirable woman I have ever seen before or since. A Caucasian Vampirella with a chic late 1920s pageboy
hairdo. I will have her and on any terms she will accept.
It takes three quarters, but finally she comes near to my
booth. I catch her eye and say "I admire you very much. If we can have just an hour alone together I will obey you
completely". She says "Give me a tip, please. Two dollars". I say "Nah!" and leave, but she still haunts my dreams.
I recognize the pecking order in human sexuality. I would very
much like to see the kind of economy where, for a small donation, people could make deep and solemn obeisance to human pulchritude
amidst opulent surroundings and then go home satisfied, at one with their sexual place in nature's hierarchy.
March 17, 2006
10:24 AM
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Precognitive Music
First a little background about two things - music and a friend.
In late Winter of 1978 I was playing guitar after three days of healthy self-indulgence
in Boston. Suddenly it felt as though someone were playing through me. I began to play things I had never
played before, things I didn't know how to play.
I have come to think of this as a moment of inspired relaxation where I was able to tap the subconscious.
I have also experienced this principle on the ski slopes on several occasions.
My first acquaintance with Bob Boetcher was through his music. At my downtown club he is in the
habit of playing piano in the large ballroom when nobody else is around.
One day I overheard him and walked in quietly so he wouldn't hear me. I sat and listened as he
played an unbroken medley of songs mostly in the classical style. Even when he ventured into barrel house
or blues it was very grand with classical trills and frills. A very eccentric but accomplished musician.
Yesterday afternoon c 4:45 I ran into Bob in the southeast part of Las Vegas. Always looking
for stories I asked if he ever had experienced anything paranormal. He told me two things.
The first was when he was a kid. One day in his room he suddenly felt an overwhelming presence
of something very dark and powerful far beyond the human. "Like a fallen angel" he said. The impression was not sensory or
tangible, but purely psychological.
The second was on September 10, 2001. Bob was at a music store on Sahara Boulevard playing an
electric piano. It's pleasant to do this because the adjustable volume allows for very light finger pressure. Suddenly he felt as though some one were playing thorough him. He began to play things he had never played before,
things he didn't know how to play.
The music was modern classical, very dark and completely unfamiliar. What amazed him the most
was a speed and precision far beyond anything he had ever been capable of previously. There were three main pieces each ending
with a downscale arpeggio culminating in a passage reminiscent of an explosion.
The performance elicited applause among the store patrons. The store owner looked very disturbed
emotionally by the content of the music. Bob felt this way too, as though the music portended something very dire. This feeling
persisted the rest of the day into the evening.
The next morning Bob turned on his television to see the World Trade Center under attack. Then
he understood the music.
April 26, 2006
8:26 AM
