blogitude.com » Mark

Everything Looks Funny

Mark — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 03:13:59 +0000

My insomnia is now going on two and a half months.

Everything looks funny, but I’m not laughing much.

Most nights, I don’t get more than two or three hours of sleep, if I get any.

Last night, I didn’t sleep at all.

Pills don’t work.

Alcohol does sometimes.

My Wildcat certainly has a sedative effect…

I could pass out for days…

Ghost in the Machine

Mark — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 16:36:15 +0000

For whatever reason, the house I’m in now has some pretty bad wiring. It’s a relatively new house — built in the 70’s, perhaps early 80’s — and shouldn’t have the problems it does.
Unfortunately, that’s one of the things you’ll always get into when you own a home. There are quirky things about most every house. In this one, the fuse box may even be a bit overloaded…

Last Friday night, I had an overwhelming sense of dread. I felt like someone close to me was in trouble, and there was nothing I could do. I was distraught, and I couldn’t shake that feeling. My car had messed up the night before, and just everything seemed to be going the wrong way. And what should happen but every time I came into the room and sat down on the bed, the ceiling fan would begin this eerie whining, and shake violently back and forth.
But it only happened when I came back into the room and sat down on the bed…

I tested that theory seven or eight times, and finally decided to pull out the voice recorder and leave it running in the otherwise silent room for a few minutes… I mean, a little EVP never hurt anyone, right?

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUQNtpGdSAw)

And so, two things became obvious:

Those weren’t ghosts. They were telephone signals. There’s obviously a massive amount of Extremely Low Frequency radiation pointed at this upstairs room from “somewhere,” and somehow, it’s bleeding through. Perhaps it’s the fault of bad grounding in this house’s wiring, or perhaps having a telecommunications transmitter inadvertently pointed directly at this room is the whole problem with the wiring.
The ceiling fan was never mounted straight, and it was extremely loose. I opened and closed the door each time I moved from the bed, walking into the hallway, and just that amount of air pressure was enough to make the ceiling fan go crazy. A few twists of the screwdriver fixed the problem, however, it’s still off balance… just not so much that the door makes it appear to be a murder weapon from the afterlife.

This really made me give a lot more thought to the whole EVP phenomenon.

Sure, you can make recordings in silence, and end up with all sorts of noises. Ambient and background noises, wind and air pressure changes and other miscellaneous sounds that you wouldn’t normally notice become amplified. Since the dynamic range of most microphones is significantly wider than that of the human ear, and the fact that the final recording becomes compressed to fit into an audible bandwidth — not to mention the problems of noise from the internal mechanism on tape recorders and sounds created by digital processing on voice recorders — you end up hearing all sorts of noises that can sound rather ghastly. It’s the perfect illustration of the old saying, “ghost in the machine.”

You simply have to take a scientific approach to this sort of thing, otherwise, you’ll end up convincing yourself of all sorts of crazy stuff. As another old saying goes, “Enough research will tend to support your theory.”

Inspired by movies like Stir of Echoes, Sixth Sense and White Noise, and entertainment television shows like Ghost Hunters, I know too many people who run around recording EVP. Most of them are convinced that Ghost Hunters is real, as they’re unable to distinguish the difference between science, pseudoscience and entertainment.
These types also totally buy into most of the crazy conspiracy theories going around.

But, like they’d assuredly tell me … I’m just too cynical… *rolls eyes*

As for that “feeling of dread” I had Friday night (and through the weekend), I was more than right — in fact, I was dead on, right down to times. As cynical as I might be, there’s still the fact that I perceive things that I shouldn’t be able to.
You either get used to that or you don’t.

Mood Music

Mark — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 16:33:26 +0000

Rascal Flatts: My Wish

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xz32I_GbpeU)

Rascal Flatts: Break Away

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0N2Toffr4I)

Weekend from Hell

Mark — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 02:01:35 +0000

Thursday night, my car all but died. Friday morning, I was supposed to have a fix, but didn’t. Friday afternoon, I was supposed to get picked up, but wasn’t. Friday night, I was so stir crazy I couldn’t stand it.

     Saturday morning, I was supposed to get a call to help with the car, but didn’t. At 11AM, I decided, “Screw it, I’ll find someone with tools to help!” And while he got the bolts out of from behind the exhaust manifold — and directly under the intake manifold — to change the thermostat, I removed and replaced the water pump.
     After all that, I started onto the process of body work where I hit the deer back in June…
     Now, the car is fixed. As long as I leave the air conditioning on… which means, there’s obviously a temperature sending unit bad, since it’s not turning on the second radiator fan.
     I also managed to scald both my hands in process, get various cuts, and break the top of my right hand — it now has something akin to half a golf ball atop it, just like two months ago.
     Only one word comes to mind: F#&$.

And so, last night, stir crazy and exhausted, yet unable to sleep (two and a half months now), I went to walk around downtown. At Market Square, I sat and reminisced about the days of old when Preservation Pub was Mercury Theater. I thought about the Snakesnatch Lounge and all the other places that were there twelve-plus years ago.
I thought about celebrating Pirate Susan’s birthday there in 2006, when she stood atop one of the benches near the door of Preservation Pub, arms outstretched, yelling, “I am an asshole bleacher!”

But even more, I thought about the day the Wildcat and I went to Preservation Pub… QSL later… and that night… and that kinda did it for my mood, because I miss her more every day.

A drink would’ve been in order, but I had to quit that after a few too many bad nights…

Then I learned that last night, a friend of mine was sexually assaulted in her home by a “friend” of hers who she actually knew very little about. Packed her kids in the car, drove them to a mutual friend to be watched and took her to the ER. I prepped her a little beforehand about what was going to happen, having been through this with other friends I’ve known, and just pretty much tried to be there for her so she didn’t feel totally alone.
Fortunately, the KPD investigator was really good, as was the crisis unit who performed her exams and tests. They were pretty unbeatable, and I was out of the room most of the time — I didn’t need to be there the whole time, anyway, because it just makes me wanna kill someone that much more.

She’s really young … and all I could think about the whole time was how bad I missed the Wildcat, how bad I missed the kids, how much they meant to me, and what I’d do to someone who tried something like that with any of them.

Finally discharged, I took her to get some food after her battery of medication, fill another prescription and back to her place, where I stayed until her sister could get there. I can handle the “crisis” portion calmly and capably, but for the rest… she’s gonna have a long road ahead.

Sometimes, life is hard.

And sometimes, other peoples’ are even harder.

Those Damn Transformers

Mark — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 05:06:19 +0000

No, I’m not talking about the electrical ones, which I truly hate because my body happens to be extremely conductive… No, I’m talking about the stars of last summer’s blockbuster movie by the same name.
They always get big heads after a blockbuster, don’t they?

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtSl3Khf1aE)

Although, it is amusing seeing Optimus Prime as a street-talking metrosexual…

Threats

Mark — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 17:16:45 +0000

People threatening me, whether in person, by Internet, Telephone or Text Message, really piss me off.

And when I get all four, I just get pissed, and maybe out of control.

Thursday night, I was so pissed, I lost it.

People who try and get in the middle of my Wildcat and I… I generally just don’t think they deserve to breathe.

But I don’t make threats.

High-School Stupid

Mark — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 07:47:52 +0000

[ This was a draft from August 2nd I should have posted. ]

Around this time two years ago, I went out a girl who was pretty fun. We went and had dinner, and ended up playing darts for a while. Just an easy hang-out-and-have-fun kinda night. It was cool. It was actually the first date I’d had that wasn’t a total friggin’ disaster.
She was sweet, she knew how to laugh, and was a pretty damn good dart player, too.

I didn’t kiss her goodnight.

But she said she wanted to see me again. And so, we made plans to meet that Friday night…

     Later that night, she called me to ask why I didn’t kiss her.
     “I wanna take it slow,” I told her. “I don’t kiss… just, well, not until I get to know someone.”
     “Aww,” she replied. “Did you like me and you’re trying to do the right thing?”
     “I had a great time, and I’m afraid I went the normal route, we’d end up going too quick and screwing everything up. Ya know what I mean?”
     “Absolutely!” she resonded, ecstatically. “I wanna take things slow, too.”

We made plans for Friday at 8PM.

     Friday came around, and we were supposed to get together again. I was already working in West Knoxville, so I called her at 7:30PM and said, “Hey, you hungry? We could maybe leave a little earlier and go grab something to eat.”
     “How did you know I as off work?” she asked.
     “Uhhh, because we made plans to meet at 8PM?”
     “Yeah… Uhhh,” she stammered. “I think I’m too tired.”
     “You think?”
     “Yeah, I’m too tired. Sorry. Maybe tomorrow. We can go to Barley’s.”
     “Well, okay. I was out here anyway, just thought I’d check.”

The same kinda thing happened twice more. I got a little pissed off about it. It didn’t make sense, especially after getting back online and realizing she’d blocked and deleted me from everywhere, wouldn’t answer her phone or anything else.
I chalked it up to nutjob, and did the Pirate Word for Healing — NEXT! (Kudos to the Pirate Chicks!)

     So one night, a month later, I’m sitting at Catscratch Jane’s with Diva, Susan, Robyn, Becky, Mitzi and Niki — the pirate chicks — and who should call but my dear stand-up queen.
     “Hey, Mark, I just wanted to see what you were doing!”
     “Hanging out with friends… Why?” I asked.
     “Well, I thought maybe we could go somewhere and hang out.”
     It didn’t take much thought. “Nah, you stood me up a few times, and no, I don’t think so.”
     Robyn, overhearing the conversation, got a little pissed off and grabbed the phone. “You stupid bitch! What the f$#& do you think you’re doing? I’ll kick your ass, you stupid bitch! You don’t f$#& with Mark Steel!”
     I wrestled the phone back, but, of course, she’d hung up.

In June of 2007, dear psycho decided to contact me again via AIM instead of the telephone.

hey nark. how are ya?

Who’s this?

it’s [name deleted]. Just wonderin what yer up to.

Not much. Just hanging out.

sorry I did what I did a few months ago. wasn’t ready for a realationship. you scared me.

Howso?

you were different.

Howso?

i d’know. you were really sweet. i had too many things on my plate and you knew how to laugh. such a diversion.

Diversion?

fun. really fun. i just wasnt ready. and your hot.

Thanks. But… Okay, what do you want?

sorry if your busy i’ll let you go.

No, it’s cool. I’m not busy, just wondering…

well i broke up with my boyfriend. just wanted to hang out and maybe get to know you better.

Okay. Well, what, same place? Bailey’s?

tommorow night? around 7?

Sounds good. See ya there!

But I didn’t bother going. Instead, some friends and I sat around and laughed about it. Sure, it was childish, but it was funny. I figured, hey, it’s the least I can do.

hey what happened to you tonight?

Huh?

you were supposed to be at bailey’s

Ahh, sorry. I’m just not ready for a relationship.

what?

Yeah, I have too many things on my plate. Take care!

asshole!!!

Thanks. G’nite!

     Tonight, she called me. Asked if I wanted to meet her at Barley’s. I said, “Sure, you want me to pick you up, or meet you there, or what?”
     “Well, how far as you?” she asked.
     “Oh, it’ll take me twenty minutes to get there.”
     “Yeah, me, too. So you wanna just meet there?”
     “Yeah, let’s do that!” I told her. “Wait around the front door… if you beat me there, I won’t be long!”

After we hung up, I parked my ass on the bed and died laughing.

Haven’t heard from her since. Wonder if she got the not-so-subtle hint? *snicker*

Revenge is sweet.

Flakes and Nutjobs, Scene Two

Mark — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 07:14:57 +0000

[ This was a draft from July 28th that I should've posted. ]

She pops up from over two years ago to say, “Hey, I’m sorry about what happened two years ago.” Offers that the Wildcat and I can stay at her place since she has an unused upstairs with a couple bedrooms — a bargain at $200 a month. I declined of course, because the place is pretty far away and, well, the bottom line is, I just don’t trust her. I don’t know her, and after the way she acted two years, giving me an apology over Yahoo Instant Messenger really didn’t seem very genuine, anyway.

I fixed her computer via remote a couple of times. She’d check in to see if I was okay, coping ok. Left the Wildcat a couple of messages telling her how happy she was that we’d found one another. Said we deserved that.

     But, much like she did two years ago, she falls into the “woman scorned” category because she decides, over Yahoo Instant Messenger, that she wants something a whole Helluva lot more than friendship.
     And somehow, I’m a jerk, having said, “No. As you fully well know, I am taken, and you have no right to try and interfere in that. I really don’t appreciate that. I’m just not wired that way.”
     After that, she had quite a few choice words…

Something the Wildcat said a few months ago suddenly came back into my head, because she was right. If I’m in a solid relationship with someone I truly care about, or even if I consider that I’m friends with someone, I am a little oblivious when they’re hitting on me until it gets pretty brazenly extreme.

This particular nutjob got extremely brazen.

So, I deleted and blocked her every way I knew how … including telephone. Since I haven’t even laid eyes on her in two years, and she was so psycho then, why the Hell did I even trust her to begin with?

Sometimes, I’m too forgiving.

Domestic Violence

Mark — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 02:56:15 +0000

When I was much younger, a friend of mine — a customer — was married to this guy who used to beat the crap out of her pretty much on a daily basis. I hated that guy … just because I felt he was a total pansy to beat on a woman like that.

     One day, I went over there working on their computers, and he delivered a fist to her face while she was sitting at the kitchen table, just a few feet away from me. She fell on me.
     I beat his sorry ass.
     And guess what I got for the privilege?

Yep …

Her ass beating on me.

A couple years later, I went over there, and he hit again. Right in front of me. But he didn’t stop there… He picked up an iron skillet and began beating her in the head over and over…

While their kids watched…

So I carried one of the kids to their bedroom and put him in his crib, and talked the other two into going to bed early.

Then I proceeded to destroy his sorry ass.

It was fun…

Beat him within an inch of death, in fact.

But then, I turned back to her, still struggling to get up off the kitchen floor. I screamed at her for being so stupid. And in retrospect, I shouldn’t have.
But the questions I was screaming … How could she put her kids through that? How could let them watch all of that? What kind of mother was she?

I called another friend of mine, who lived close, and together, we packed her stuff and drove her out of state to live with her mother.

She hates me, still.

And this is precisely why Cops don’t like taking Domestic Violence calls… Those women most always seem to defend the bastards who put them through the most Hell…

But at some point, with a lot of caring and understanding, they do get over it.

Or, at least, you hope they do.

Music Bits

Mark — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 22:51:42 +0000

     Scribbled on the backs of receipts and folded up in my wallet, a text message to myself, calling a friend to send me an e-mail with a few cryptic phrases… That’s how it starts. And when I look at the words later, I get that feeling again, and I write it all down in its entirety.
     That’s how most of my music has started out… But then I get to the spot where I’m not happy with the music, but the words are still there…
     And it bothers the shit out of me. Unfinished songs, some ten years old, sitting there in my brain. I know every note by heart, know exactly what it’s supposed to sound like, and yet… Just can’t get it out.

Little bits about sex…

cacophonous, we feed our needs
no reason to abstain
like heroin injected
right through these junkie veins

A bit of anger and hurt…

when i look into your eyes
what do you think i see?
you strip away my armor
then you damn me when i bleed

Being apart…

you feel it coming (and coming)
and i know damn well you do
no matter how far you go
i can still feel you

And True Love…

unworthy of your presence
unabated love
what you give me
is what god is made of

It all fits together, songs in succession, an opera of sorts… and one of these days maybe I’ll have the patience and drive to actually finish it all…

blogitude.com » Mark

Everything Looks Funny

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