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    St. Patrick’s Spooky Emerald Isle…


    2009 - 03.17

    Today, we celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in much of the world. Some rivers flow green like the lager at festive pubs. Covers and leprechauns reign supreme in the streets. We try our best at speaking Gaelic only to butcher the words with alcohol-tainted breath. And for a brief while, many people consider themselves unofficial “citizens” of Ireland (or Éire, if you want to be precise).

    Legends loon large in Ireland. Many of us know about tales of the mischievous, not-so-friendly leprechaun and the bean sidhe (”banshee”) wailing as a harbinger of death. Iconic images of nature spirits and ghosts permeate our recollections of Irish culture. The soft, warm, sweet scent of burning peat on a cold day drifts our thoughts to haunting legends, forgotten Druid culture, and empty castles.

    Ghost stories are abundant in Irish mythology and folktales. Entire websites are devoted to the paranormal lore. On Irelandseye.com, you can find an abundance of information on the country as well as its spooky places. The site offers a webcam for the Leprechaun Watch where you can try your luck at capturing a glimpse of nature spirits; for those solely interested in departed souls, the GhostWatch section tells the tragic haunting of Helena Bunden at a linen mill, complete with sightings of her ghosts and a few incredibly EVPs.

    Visitors to Ireland can enjoy many tours and haunted places. One story—the execution and subsequent haunting of Bishop John Atherton—I have included in my upcoming book. But there are too many others out there, waiting to be read about and experienced. Dublin is one such extremely haunted city. And from Dublin, there’s the interesting story of a haunted site: the former location of a theater.

    Fishamble Street Theatre, near the remnants of Proudfoote’s Castle, opened back in 1741. It is still remembered today as the site of the premiere preformance of Handel’s Messiah. Many great performers graced its walls and left their impressions on the building. The haunted history of the playhouse began in the early 1800s when strange knockings were frequently heard, centered around the Green Room. Every night at 10:00 precisely, the sounds would be heard emanating from the wall for fifteen minutes. The story survived through oral tradition from a worker in the mid-19th century and was later written about in John Dunne’s A Ghost Watcher’s Guide to Ireland. Most of Fishamble Street has been leveled, yet the story survives. A wide range of other Dublin haunts, including Fishamble, can be found on the Paranormal Database.

    So don’t let the Guinness cloud your mind too much on this holiday. There are spirits out there, looming among the gravestones and ruins between the Atlantic Ocean and the Irish Sea. If you can’t be there, just snuggle up in bed tonight with a good book of Irish ghost stories.

    Curses! Foiled Again!


    2009 - 02.02

    Criminy. My luck is horrible lately. First, the groundhog saw his shadow today. Six more weeks of his befrigged winter!! Then I get an email about my order. Discontinued! They say the third time’s the charm, so hopefully I’ll still be getting my early birthday gift as the new item. The Fates are proving evil but I won’t allow them to win.

    On the plus side, I did find confirmation of one haunting for the book. I have plenty of writing to tackle today, but I’m feeling less glum today (finally) so I should have a chance at getting somewhere without everything coming out like garbage. Boy, am I looking forward to spring. I could really use some natural anti-depressant in the form of tolerable weather. It’s my one chance to feel better, I’m beginning to believe…

    A little happiness would go a long way about now. And I don’t mean lithium. Perhaps getting this book wrapped up would help. As well as good, enlightening, cheerful conversation with positive undertones. I think this could turn into a good week… but that all depends on how I view it (and what I allow to bother me). Accentuate the positive; elinimate the negative. And so, with semi-renewed vigor, I do believe I should get back to work…

    Scrooged…


    2008 - 12.15

    One week left until Christmas. I can’t wait… for it all to be over, that is.

    Perhaps it sounds rude of me to not extol the glories of the holiday season. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Caroling through snow-swept neighborhoods. Glittering lights and jingling bells. But that isn’t Christmas anymore. It’s a nightmare of rudeness, bombardment by family, and the worst fright of them all: American consumerism run rampant. That’s right: the absurd notion that the holidays mean nothing more than getting the biggest, most expensive gifts.

    The heart of Christmas is dead. In its place is greedy materialism wrapped in a phony red bow. Good will toward men went out the window with George Bailey and Clarence the angel in pursuit of some shred of hope. The little things–the scent of pine boughs, being with loved ones by a roaring fire, and yuletide feasts–are forgotten memories of a bygone era. Simple pleasures no longer exist.

    It’s depressing and infuriating to see people clamber for bargains, trinkets, and gadgets, pushing and fighting over meaningless objects. And that, I’m sorry to inform you, is what all these “deals” are: empty nothingness. Something to be forgotten in another month. Another toy to add to the pile and keep children from realizing they have an imagination. Another gizmo to impress people with nothing better to do with their time than keep up with the Joneses. Piles of junk that will one day line another methane-manufacturing landfill which will serve as the foundation for another useless chain store selling more of what is buried inches beneath the feet of its shoppers.

    Yes, there are things I would truly like to have. But the important things I wish for most can’t be found in glittery wrapping paper beneath a tree. They can’t be bought or sold or picked up last-minute in the final shopping rush. Good company. A sense of belonging. Time. Love. Understanding. Just like that G-scale train set or airplane ticket to Sydney, they’re not bound to appear this year suddenly on the 25th.

    I live in a bitter world of materialism. Not by choice, but by surroundings. There are many good people out there, yet many choose to hibernate through the chaos like myself. I still believe these intangible gifts are out there and I see a peek of them from time to time. Yet they’re the least likely gifts any of us will receive. They require honest effort, not a padded wallet. They come from the heart, not from a cold store shelf.

    The greatest gift we can ever give is care. It can be as simple as the phrase “I’m sorry” said in honesty. It’s telling someone how much they mean to you instead of what they can buy you. It’s setting aside those few free minutes in your day for someone special. It’s giving a hand to someone who needs a little help or politely opening that door for someone. The smallest efforts make the greatest impact.

    Instead, I watch the crowds hurry along with blind eyes in pursuit of plastic treasure.

    Bah, humbug.

    White Landscapes and Wite-Out®…


    2008 - 12.06

    As the snow begins falling on the cold ground here, like powdered sugar sifted from some ethereal source, I’m once again dashing off for another interesting weekend. In a few hours, there’s a brief investigation with Western Reserve Paranormal at a private Cleveland residence followed by dinner at Union Station. I have this unshakable feeling that I’ll endure another drag show.

    It’s been a busy week otherwise. I’m slapping on my editor’s hat and working diligently on a book being written by a friend. I’ll be cracking down on my brainstorms more this coming week. Plenty of notes, outlining, and rewriting to tackle, but it’ll be a fun project nonetheless. I’m not abandoning my own manuscript at all. It’s been a semi-exciting week again, but fearing I may jinx myself I’ve kept tight-lipped about it. I’ll just say this: 31 minutes. Some of you already know what I’m talking about… the rest, well, you’ll find out eventually barring any unforeseen disasters or writer’s blocks.

    To avoid another dull, lonely New Years, I’ll probably be finalizing plans with friends this weekend as well… since no one else has stepped forward with an offer. *cough*

    But I must run now. Too much to do and never enough time in the day.

    In the Spirit of Giving…


    2008 - 12.02

    This is the season of giving. While we all appreciate ribbon-adorned packages beneath a shimmering Christmas tree, there are many other ways of giving heartfelt presents. If you’re looking for a positive way to give and make a difference, I ask those who are able to pass along the gift of charity to help save a piece of queer paranormal history.

    The historic Villa Montezuma in San Diego is an incredible piece of Queen Anne architecture. For a brief time, it was home to pianist, author, and medium Jesse Shepherd who still haunts the dwelling to this very day. Built in 1887, the structure suffered damage in a fire in 1986 and its foundation needs repairs. A non-profit organization, Friends of Villa Montezuma, has worked tirelessly since the 1970s to renovate the structure and return it to its former glory.

    Structural concerns have closed the home to tours, though the society hopes it isn’t permanent. While I’m sure they do appreciate gracious, larger donations, they gladly accept whatever the public can offer. In these troubling economic times, our pockets are lighter, but the same applies to non-profit organizations. Without a helpful hand, so much of our history will disappear from the landscape. The past is more fragile than you may think.

    If you feel this house is worth saving, you can make a donation or become a sponsor for a restoration project. It can be as simple as becoming a member or, if you live in the San Diego area, you can donate your time and aid the society at events.

    And remember: not all presents can be bound by bows. Sometimes the best benefactions are those which warm the soul and come without benefit of reciprocation.

    The Red Badge of Courage…


    2008 - 12.01

    As we begin the quick rush toward the end of 2008, it’s an important time to pause and reflect upon what we miss while pondering the holidays. Today marks an often overlooked observance: World AIDS Day.

    Since the early days of HIV awareness in 1981, over 25 million people worldwide have lost their lives to AIDS. While we have come far in our understanding of HIV and mislabeling it a “gay disease”, a certain amount of prejudice still exists. It can effect anyone, without regard for age, race, or sexual orientation. Some victims, like Liberace, kept quiet for fear of scandal. Others, such as Ryan White, became public speakers helping the world understand the virus better and giving sufferers a face of normality. Yet there are still people who believe past misinformation and stereotypes. For as far as we have come, we have greater strides to make.

    Throughout my life, I have watched the slow changes since its initial discovery. I remember watching Ryan White on television and seeing the earliest uses of the symbolic red ribbon. I have known and befriended people living with the disease. I have watched fear and hysteria give way to somber understanding. Great advances have been made in the past 20 years, from drug cocktails to scientific work on a vaccine. Yet the fight isn’t over. In 2007, the number of individuals living with HIV was estimated at 33 million. In poorer countries, the survival rate is extremely low. While we may not consider AIDS as a serious affair worthy of news attention today, the battle hasn’t ended.

    It doesn’t take much to become a catalyst for change. Educate yourself on the disease by reading information provided by the World AIDS Campaign or volunteer some time or financial donations at one of the many AIDS organizations throughout the world. HIV won’t disappear simply because we turn a blind eye. Like anything we fear, we have to face it head-on.

    Gobble, Gobble…


    2008 - 11.30

    To sum up the last few days:

    Wednesday was a visit to an allegedly haunted home in East Cleveland (which I shall refrain from commenting on at this time). Thanksgiving was spent with friends at a fiercely non-traditional gathering hosted by my friend Bill. Friday was spent in the kitchen making pumpkin cheesecake and my special stuffing/dressing for family. Saturday was another long trip to visit my sister for a post-Turkey Day celebration before returning home and collapsing from exhaustion (not literally, mind you).

    Thanksgiving is one of the many holidays I can take or leave. Considering it’s an American holiday dating to the one time when Puritans and Native Americans were on good terms with each other, there isn’t much to celebrate in my opinion. Native peoples saved the invaders from starvation only to be persecuted and slaughtered for a few centuries… how utterly American to dress it up all pretty like some Rockwell painting of togetherness and joy. I would think a candlelight vigil would be a better homage…

    After recovering from sleep deprivation, I pulled my three-foot Christmas tree out of the closet today, but I’m still trying to figure out where to set it up. It’s too small for the floor, too big for my desk, and no other piece of furniture seems fitting for it. And then there’s the issue of choosing an outlet that isn’t in use. This could turn into an all-day project. And yes, I resurrected my Amazon.com Wishlist in time for the holidays. I need to get my hands on a few of the books to get back into the habit of regular reading again.

    Tomorrow, I’ll be writing about an author who combines his scientific background with parapsychology, so for those of you looking for hard science backing up paranormal research, you won’t want to miss this one…

    Feeling Flushed?


    2008 - 11.19

    Today marks the 8th observance of World Toilet Day. I shit you not! (I’m sorry… that was too easy.) According to the World Toilet Organization, the idea behind it is simple: ‘we deserve better‘. This means more respect for sanitation workers, elevation of the “social status” of porcelain bowls, and proper potty facilities for the billions of people around the world without a place to pop a squat.

    But bowel movements are big business. Recently at the World Toilet Summit, heath advocates have began rallying for “flushless commodes” to curb wasted water. In Australia, there is even contemplation of a Toilet Tax to cut down on wasted water from flushing.

    To mark this day celebrating a device which became a standard fixture of homes thanks to the diligent efforts of Thomas Crapper, I thought it fitting to pay homage to the bathroom ghost. While these videos might be legitimate or fake, they are entertaining nonetheless.

    A ‘Ghost Boy’ in a UK Bathroom


    Boy ‘Apparition’ in Bathroom in Venezuela

    Coming Out of the Dark…


    2008 - 10.10

    It’s officially National Coming Out Day today across the globe. Today marks the 20th celebration of a day for GLBT peoples everywhere to make their voices heard. It originated as an anniversary celebration of a march on Washington, D.C., in 1987 to raise awareness for gay and lesbian equality in which half a million people participated.

    There remains some debate as to whether being out is important or even mandatory, as some more militant people suggest. Personally, I leave it up to the individual as a personal decision. Yet I do believe that visibility is extremely important in this age. Though it may be yet another label to brand on our foreheads, silence does make us seem like more of a minority than we truly are.

    So polish up that old pride necklace you have buried in your dresser drawer. Clip a red ribbon on your shirt. Wear a pink or black triangle on your tie. Let yourself be noticed.

    Shiver Me Timbers…


    2008 - 09.25

    Since I missed last week’s celebration of International Talk Like a Pirate Day, I thought I’d take the time to write a better-late-than-never bit about those interesting pirates of yore, Anne Bonny and Pierre Bouspeut: tales of a different sort of romance on the high seas.

    Anne Bonny was a fierce Irishwoman who turned to a life of piracy while living in New Providence (now known as Nassau). It was there where she befriended many other pirates, and a man named Pierre, who operated a few businesses on the island, including a dressmaker’s shop.

    Pierre Bouspeut was known by several names. Pierre Delvin. Peter Bosket. Yet one stands out among the rest: “Pierre the Pansy Pirate”. That’s right, Pierre was gay. And what did he and Anne choose as their first ship to pillage? A French merchant vessel laden with expensive cloth! The duo stole a boat from the harbor, covered its sails with turtle blood, set up a bloodied dressmaker’s mannequin on the deck, and had Anne stand beside it with a blood-soaked axe. Upon seeing the ghastly site in the moonlight, the French sailors immediately handed over all their cargo.

    I’m sure Pierre was in heaven.

    Anne’s partner in crime was John “Calico Jack” Rackham (whom “Jack Sparrow” may have been loosely based upon), nicknamed for the colorful clothing he wore… which happened to be lovingly created by his “companion”, Pierre Bouspeut. Calico Jack met his demise after being captured on his ship, Revenge, in October of 1720 (his crew was drunk from a night of celebrating a hefty cargo seized from a commercial Spanish ship). He was hung for piracy on the island of Jamaica in a spot now called Hangman’s Cay or Rackham’s Cay. The rest of his crew, presumably including Pierre, were tried and later hanged in February of 1721 at Port Royal.

    Anne was also said to have had a lesbian love-affair with the only other documented female pirate on the seas, Mary “Mark” Read. Mary died in childbirth while imprisoned with Anne. Anne, though, seemingly vanished. It is rumored that she escaped and lived out her days in Charles Towne (Charleston), South Carolina.

    Who knew there was so much intrigue and alternative lifestyles in pirate life?