About Your Author
The first thing that you should know is that I am not what you would classify as “normal”. As a person, from a very early age I have known this. I possess a highly evolved intellect, and top that off with a considerable amount of common sense and you’ve got an idea about how I work. I was reading at a 6th grade level by the time I entered Kindergarten, and even then, I was always antisocial and retracted from normal social environments. That is just the basis of how I am, so I will go into detail here. Consider this my “bio” if you will. So, let’s begin.
From a very early age, I was different. My first words ever spoken were “hot shit!” as a toddler. The first movie I ever saw was “Nightmare on Elm Street”. I never wanted to be awake during the day, and I only stayed up during the nights. A natural night owl is what my mother always used to call me. In school, I was quiet, constantly in observance, constantly soaking up any informationI could find because from a very early age, I learned that knowledge is power. My father was not what you would call an “active” parent. He is, in fact, a murderer. He was frequently unemployed and he had a tough time adapting to civilian life after spending 17 years in the US Military. To clear the air, he served during Vietnam. I will not give official rank, but one of his many responsibilities included acting as the machine gunner on the side of attack helicopters. So to get this right out in the open, I was borne to a murderer, as I stated above. Not one or two people. It was this man’s job to fly around and tear into people/villages with his .50 cal machine gun. He has never given me a number, but I have heard from others that he did this for months at a time per tour, so you can imagine how many people have fallen to this man. And, also to be clear, this does not bother me about him. Every event that happens to us, as people, shape us and mold us into who we will eventually become. Some people have more traumatic molds than others. In regards to me, this will lead us in even further into detail about who I am, where I came from, and what I have become.
I personally feel that I am a monster. I DO regret the way I am, and wish I could change it. I have and am currently trying to better myself. I don’t like the things I have done, and lately I have felt the need to begin helping other people when I can, however I can. But the fact remains that I am one fucked up individual. Many times, I feel that I am a legitimate danger to society. I am not a sensitive person. I don’t experience emotions the same way that an average person does – not the way you do. I process emotions very quickly. I am very black-and-white … very “matter of fact” in the way I deal with things. I have experienced a lot in my life, so it is almost impossible to “shock” or “surprise” me. I don’t grieve, or mourn, or usually even acknowledge. I have had very little regard for human life in my past, though that has changed recently. I have been around death, up close and personal. I have lost those closest to me. I have watched multiple people die right in front of me. By the time I walked out of the room, I had already begun processing it and more or less begun to move forward. I don’t care if I offend people, and I don’t care if I hurt people physically, emotionally, or mentally either. Well, I didn’t. As i said, I’ve been trying to change. In fact, I have lived most of my life playing a game. It was all a game to me. I would leave my house in the mornings when I went to work with a goal in mind – upset, hurt and offend as many people as I could. Fuck with them all, as best as my abilities would allow. I was extremely devious, and cunning, and downright wicked. I did not possess the ability to be empathetic. I couldn’t relate to others’ pain or suffering. I was a master at manipulation and mind-games. I simply did not care in the truest sense of the words. Even now, I can go to work and deal with people I have known for 10 years. We will shoot the breeze, I’ll ask about how your family is doing, inquire about what’s going on in your life, and occasionally, horrible things will run through my mind, such as what sounds you would make if you were skinned alive. About the looks on the faces of your family as they watched it happen. At times, I truly disgust myself. I can walk into a Dunkin’ Donuts, order my coffee, and wonder what the cashier would look like without any flesh – no eyelids, no fingernails – just pure meat. Then I thank them for giving me my coffee, smile, wish them a good day, and be on my merry way. These are things I have been ‘battling with’ my entire life. The thoughts have never waned, and I fear that they will never dissipate. I can obviously indulge in amazing self-restraint, but as I said, I suspect the thoughts shall always remain.
I HAD spent some time of my youth as a Satanist, though not as a hardcore one. I was born and raised in an unnamed area of New York City. My mother was at the time a work-horse, who spent every one of her waking moments working in the legal field because her husband, my father, couldn’t hold down a job, and she needed to support the family. I have witnessed blood rituals, sacrificial rituals, and other acts of the shadow. I have witnessed summonings, seances, and spiritual communications. I’ve already gone into detail about what my father was like, but some more depth would reveal that he was verbally, emotionally, and spiritually abusive. Mean-spirited, cold-hearted, violent at times, and always ever present. Just like me. He never knew why he was like that, he just was. I cannot claim that I was ever abused physically, sexually, or anything like that. The man just simply had a tongue laced with venom. I learned from a very early age that if you didn’t have a thick skin, this world would devour you in a heartbeat, without thinking twice about where it would shit out your remains. Quite literally, almost nothing phases me. This has been an ongoing issue for all of those around me. To everyone else, I am likable, agreeable, hell, even friendly and even tempered. But to my family and friends, I am toxic and venomous, just like he was. I have an uncanny ability to rot anything good around me. If I am in a shitty mood, everyone around me will be in a shitty mood. If I am miserable, and you aren’t, give me a few minutes. I’ll make you that way. People around me are often times discovering that they are inexplicably angry, or violent. They hate, but do not know what or why they hate. Quite simply put, that’s me. I am the reason they feel that way. I exude an aura that poisons everything around me. I don’t try – not at all. That is just the way it is. I have a very, very dominant personality. However, because I have a high intellect, I can pretty much converse with almost anyone about almost anything, so generally, people usually those not close to me, enjoy being around me. Here is that “Dexter Morgan” affect I mentioned above.
My grandmother and grandfather on my mother’s side were very involved in my life from a young age. They literally lived in the apartment next door to us, and I would spend my afternoons every single day at her house after school. And speaking of school, at my grandmother’s requests and on her dime, I went to one of the best private Catholic elementary schools in NYC. As I got older, I also went to one of the best Catholic high schools in NYC, mainly due to the fact that I possessed an insanely high intellect level. I knew this fact and abused it every chance I got. But I was also troubled in my youth. I enjoyed hurting people too much. I was expelled from multiple high schools until finally I just simply gave up trying to fit in. I got a job at 16, and just took that ball and ran with it. I fondly recall one time, at my first high school, where I actually started a fight with three members of the football team. At least, it started out as three. I’m not going to lie, even though I got my shots in and did cause minor injury, I lost that fight badly. At the end of everything, it was five-on-one, and I didn’t stand a chance – then. Put me in that situation now, in the current time, and every one of them would spend the night in the hospital. But it was a learning lesson. From that point on, I never looked at a fight the same way again. It was none of this “black eye if you lose” bullshit. I looked at it as life-or-death. I’m not one of those jocks who get into fights to impress people, or to show off to friends. I don’t do it because I want you to know that I can kick your ass. I get into fights because even though I usually enjoy hurting people, I never start them. In the past 14 years of my life, I haven’t started a single fight, but I have indeed finished quite a few. I approach these fights now with the mentality that “this guy is going to try to hurt or even kill me”. So I simply beat them to the punch, and immobilize them so that they can continue no further with any forms of attack against me. I’ve never taken it to “that step”, and I am usually very good at knowing when to stop. But I also make sure the threat against me is neutralized, at all costs.
Back to my grandparents, my grandmother was a devout Catholic woman – not Christian, but Catholic: there is a difference – who made sure that I was well versed in the faith. I received all of the sacraments, and spent my life going through the motions, all the while feeling like there was something missing. I studied the Bible, as was required of my academically, but at the time, I viewed it ONLY academically. From the time I was in 1st grade, I had doubts about my religion. The nuns at my school quite literally hated me and only tolerated my presence because of the fact that we threw money at the school, hand over fist. I alway refuted them and debated with them on points of religion. To say I was a non-believer was an understatement. On more than one occasion as a child, I had the ever loving shit beaten out of my by a nun. When that wouldn’t work, they would open up the closet, and stick me in there in the dark for hours at a time. And take my word for it, I was not alone in that closet. But, I will get back to the topic of the supernatural in a little while.
I once went into a confessional, during school hours as was allowed, and confessed my sins. In my defense, it had been a while since I had last confessed, but to make a long story short, the priest knew who I was, and had a serious conversation with my parents about putting me in therapy and ‘getting me help’. I was in the confessional for about 20 minutes or so, just going down the list of things I had done since my last confession. And with that being said. This caused a great stir within my grandparents house. Now, don’t get me wrong – I loved them. At least, I felt what I consider to be the closest approximation of what I consider love to be like. But the second that they began to ‘interfere’, it was like a switch was turned inside me. I just stopped caring. Soon after that, my grandmother was diagnosed with stomach cancer, underwent many operations, and after many agonizing and painfully wretched months, she died in her home. I was there when it happened. It was actually a strange event. One that would change me for the rest of my life.
At the moment of her death, every clock in the house froze in place. A 100 year old grandfather clock’s pendulum just simply froze. The watches of every man in the house locked into position. Any time piece that wasn’t digital just simply no longer worked. There was a mysterious feeling in the air. Everyone felt uneasy, as if we were not alone but didn’t know it. As her last breathe left her, we couldn’t help feeling relieved that her pain was finally over. Time went on, and as everyone began to grip what had just gone on, I found myself alone in the room with her. I was curious about death, this was the first time that I had ever experienced it. I leaned in, hovering over her body, just looking at this empty shell which no longer contained any life, or essence, or spirit. I must have been there for 5 minutes or so, just examining her, looking at the painful expression forever frozen on her face, the contortions in her final moments… and then that feeling came back. That feeling of uneasiness. I never told my mother this, because I feel it would have disturbed her beyond repair, but at that moment, I saw life – no, not life… I saw presence enter into her eyes again. I felt that there was someone or something present there in that body again. Though they weren’t moving, and there was no blinking, I saw an essence behind her eyes, for a split second. It jarred me quite considerably. I just knew that at that moment, I was not alone in that room. You could feel it. The hairs stood on the back of my neck and my arms, and it felt like there was an electricity in the air. I looked at her half expecting to turn her head and address me, but it never came. Then, as suddenly as it were there, it was gone, and I felt the exact moment when I knew I was again alone
It was this moment that I knew there was something else in this world. I left the room to find that all of the clocks had returned to ticking away again, just as is their function.
And my grandmother still speaks to me today, though not frequently anymore, through dreams and other forms of interaction.
Shortly after that, less than one year as a matter of fact, my grandfather developed cancer as well and died just the same as my grandmother had. I truly believe that when she died, his heart broke and he simply gave into the stress. I believe the stress assisted in the development of his cancer, and that is what eventually took him out. I know I am probably wrong. But experiencing such a profound sense of loss as he did, losing the love of your life for over 45 years, it truly does affect you in ways you would never expect. So that’s my belief, and I’m sticking to it. Just let me have it.
It was truly this moment in my life, when my grandmother died, that made me want to investigate, at the age of 13/14, the possibilities of possession. Not necessarily religious possession at the time, just possession. It was also this event that I believe opened me up, sensitively, to things not of this world/realm. Paranormal activity in my life increased to an almost unbearable level. I told that story because forever after it, I was different. Things had changed for me. I specifically recall a time shortly thereafter, where my mother had been having problems with money, and we were unable to pay our electricity bill. So ConEd (Consolidated Edison, a NYC electricity provider) disconnected our service. I was living in the dark, literally, and it was in that darkness that something came for me. I began to have vivid dreams, in which I took part in massacres involving both angels and demons. I had other dreams that were so vivid and detailed that to this day, I still remember facial expressions, times of day, smells, and written, comprehensive text. I call these things “dreams” because there is nothing else to call them. In my heart, I know they were visions to something else. They were far too vivid – more vivid than any other dreams I have ever had before or since. And they did not fade. I can recall any detail asked of me from the most basic to the most minute. I remember the blood curdling shrieks that left my lips in those visions. I remember the smell of my flesh and the hair burning. I remember the intensity of the desolation, isolation, pain, torment and despair that I felt. I remember the hatred I felt for purity, and the desire to rise above. I remember the feeling of having my flesh split open and tear away, and the intense, orgasmic pain I felt as I metamorphosized into something else. The body torn away, revealing something else underneath – something terrifying. In total, over a two year period, I had only three of these ‘dreams’ that laid out an entire story – a history – of which I intend to tell, in a piece of “fiction” that I am writing in a trilogy of books. Each dream represents one book. They also, changed my life forever, one at a time, and shaped me into who I am today. I have also made the change, recently, to dedicate myself to being a better person. After delving into the unseen world, they too, have taken an interest in me. And literally overnight, I became a believer in God. Because when you come face to face with His nemesis, it is impossible not to believe in Him too.
I will be clear. I am sensitive to the supernatural. More so than the average sensitive person. Some people do not believe such things exist. I can respect that, however, I know for a fact that they do. I have been plagued with them since I was 13 years old. In the form of dreams, nightmares (not the dreams, but the actual class of spiritual entities), living shadows, low whispers, deceptive reflections, unexplained presence, being physically attacked (not severely, mind you) by having random things constantly fall or fly at me… Those are narrow, blanket explanations, but trust me, things get weird around me – and I am not the only person who notices it. Here below, I will give some examples about the strange activity which I experience somewhat periodically. I’ve had family members and friends recognizably notice things.
Example 1: Everyone (2-3 people) will be sitting in the living room playing Call of Duty or watching a movie, and then all the way off to our right, out of the corner of our eyes, we see someone walk across the doorway, passing in front of it. Everyone will stop for a second, look at each other, and then get up to see if anyone had broken into the house and was walking around. There’s never anyone to be found.
Example 2: There will also never be the feeling of being truly “alone” in my house either. My wife has, on many occasions, been in the middle of doing something, for example making a sandwich in the kitchen. I will walk into the kitchen, and her face will turn instantly pale and she will tell me about how for the past 2 minutes, she has been talking to me, telling me things, because she “felt me (or the presence of what she thought was me) in the room with her”.
I will be in a deep state of rest/sleep. My wife and I have different working schedules. She works normal 9-5 hours, while I work afternoons, evenings, and late nights into mornings. So I will be asleep. Lots of shit happens to me while I am asleep.
Example 3: I will be dead asleep, and all of a sudden, there will be a HUGE “bang!” or “boom!” on the wall behind my bed, next to my head. It will usually not be one noise, either, it is very frequently “Boom! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!”, as if someone is standing there just beating the crap out of my wall.
Example 4: I will be dead asleep. Out of nowhere, I will feel someone lean over me, I will feel their presence above me, and the depressions in the bed, and then hear them whisper something into my ear. Except that when I open my eyes, there is no one there. The depressions/weight distribution will return to normal, and the presence fades. Sometimes my name is being called, other times, I can’t make it out or understand it, but one time I was specifically told “Barbara says hello.”. Barbara was my grandmother.
Other situations I have been in, and I have been in many, are varied.
Example 5: I have literally just gotten into bed, and heard a small noise, which sounded like a “hiss” to me come from the corner of the room. With no lights on, no clocks, no televisions, no phones or computers, no lightbulbs, and no outside flooding from street lights, I have literally watched shadows inch forward and take shape, then slowly melt back into the deeper shadow and disappear.
Example 6: Many, many times my wife will be in bed asleep next to me when our schedules match up. I’ll be just teetering on the brink of that place you go when you’re almost asleep but just not quite. I’ll hear her shift her weight and gasp. My eyes will shoot open, and I’ll look in the direction where she is staring. I’ll then see a huge figure standing in my doorframe, blocking the entire thing If I had to put actual, physical sizes on this thing, I would say it would be equivalent to a man standing about 6’10”-7’0″, and weighing about 350-400lbs. We see this figure very frequently, and we call it “the watcher” when we speak about it.
Example 7: I will be preparing to go to sleep, and I will walk around the house shutting everything down. Turning the TV and computers off, making sure no unnecessary electronics are sucking up juice. I’ll go around checking that the windows are locked, and the same with all of the doors. I’ll get to my bedroom, and then hear strange shit. For example, something heavy (75-100lbs at least, like a large “thump!”) being dropped and then literally dragged across the floor of the second story of my house. It’s a strange sensation to hear shit dragged across your ceiling. No one lives up there. So of course, I’ll get a weapon of some kind, usually a knife and not a firearm, and go investigate as to what the hell could be making those noises, being that no one else lives in my house. I’ll find nothing at all out of the ordinary up there, but when I’ll come back downstairs, I’ll find the lights back on and my door closed but unlocked. While I am alone in the house.
Example 8: I have 8 dogs. Small dogs, Beagles, but 8 dogs nonetheless. You have no idea how many times, in the dead of night, usually around the 3:00-4:00a.m. hour, all 8 of my dogs will be sleeping on or around the bed. Without warning and with zero build-up, 2 or 3 dogs will start growling and barking, and then they all wake up. 8 dogs will suddenly charge the doorway as if they are attacking something, but there is nothing visible. Nothing to attack. But they will keep on doing this, their fur raised in a “mohawk” down their backs. We will wake up, investigate, see what the hell is going on, and then try to make the pups feel better so that they can go and comfortably sleep again, but it’s just an illusion we put on for them, because for the life of me, I don’t have any idea what they just saw or tried to attack.
Because of my religious roots, I rebelled at an early age. As I said, I dabbled in Satanism for a few years of my life. I NEVER gave my soul up to the Devil, or made any pacts. I never dedicated myself to him. At the time, I feel as if I were experimenting with something to believe in, but it always just never felt right. It actually felt downright wrong, as if I were making a mistake, which is why I was always too apprehensive to commit myself to that religion. I also used to be a part of something in NYC that I guess could be considered as an underground culture. Some people called it a “cult”, but that’s just because they didn’t know any better. It was called “House (Clan) Sabretooth”, and it was a network of, at the time, approximately 3,000-4,000 people strong in New York alone. This House spanned the entire country and in total had about 25,000-30,000 members. I had heard that it even spanned into other countries as well, but I never met anyone from any of those areas, so I could not confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt. Each one of them believed that to some extend, they were honest to God, real-life vampyres. Some people believed that they truly required blood to survive, and they would have blood-letting parties, and people who would offer them their blood. Others believed that they were not true “vampyres” in the literal sense, but ‘psychic vampires’ who could manipulate the aura of a person and more or less steal that persons energy, leaving them weakened and the “psi vamp” empowered. I am actually one of those. All of the things I mentioned previously, about my mood and my aura affecting those around me, that is basically a psychic vampire, more or less. I personally hate referring to myself as any type of “vampire” or “vampyre”. I prefer the term “energy leech”, as it more accurately describes what I feel happens to those around me. It was a very dark, very gritty and very exclusive place to be. And in my time there, I encountered all aspects of the occult. I encountered people who were devoted students of witchcraft, Santeria, Mekumba, Satanism, Sanguinism, and many others. I have witnessed individuals conducting and delivering hexes and spells which I have seen work with my own two eyes. I have even encountered people who claimed that they were no longer completely human, because through their practices in Satanism, they had welcomed demonic entities to take control of them, and were thus occupied by multiple presences inside one vessel. Of course there were people who were mentally ill there, and of course there were people pretending to be vamps or other creatures, I would be ignorant to not realize this. And as I have said, I am nothing if not observant. I knew the deal. It was easy to spot those who were posers. It should also be noted that it is just as easy to spot those who are NOT lying. You know it in your soul. You FEEL it, in your presence. Your entire existence screams out in protest when in the presence of such entities. But when I did come across the ones who I felt were indeed actually different, I interrogated the hell out of them. I attempted to ‘befriend’ them. And yes, I realize this was or could have been dangerous. I simply didn’t care. I wanted -maybe NEEDED- information. As much as I could find.
To put it simply, I have been around the block. There are more people than you could possibly imagine who willingly volunteer themselves to be taken over by a dark or demonic entity. And at my time there, as a young man of about 16 or 17, I knew a few of them. I spoke with them at length. I tried to obtain as much information as possible, as I stated above. For many of them, they had volunteered for the ‘job’. Others had made little pacts with the devil in which they demanded money or increased sexual activity as their form of payment, their “trade-off” for giving themselves up. Things that would seem to work at the time, but ultimately, years and years later would have them enslaved to something else, with no longer any benefit to them. Some people may be apprehensive about these topics. They may be intimidated or even downright scared of being in the presence of people/creatures such as the ones I have mentioned. But I never was. Maybe it was because I was young and had the “Superman complex”. Maybe I was just naive. I don’t know. See, all my life, I have had problems with fear. I do experience it, don’t get me wrong. But there are just sometimes where it just turns off and won’t go on, no matter what happens to me. PHYSICALLY, I am not afraid of damned near anything. I have done a lot of bad things in my youth. I am not afraid of being hit, hurt, stabbed, sliced, or shot. That does not bother me. But when strange, random, supernatural things happen to me, such as the examples I mentioned above which go on in my home, I do get shaken up a bit. It’s a totally different intensity of terror. You truly can’t explain it.
A far as where I am now, at this point in my life, I have intentionally chosen professions where I can die on a daily basis. I cannot be confined. I hate being stuck in an “office environment”. I work as a NYC Process Server, a Bail Enforcement / Fugitive Recovery Agent, and a bouncer. While some would say that “everyone has issues”, I actually have ‘subscriptions’. I am a writer at heart, hence this blog. I have spent a lot of my time amateurishly studying demons, and only recently have decided to endeavor, onto the actual project of writing multiple books. As part of this writing, I refuse to write garbage, so I am doing everything I possibly can to study up and take seriously the topics of demonic possession, demonic entities, and other supernatural phenomenon. I have even taken to traveling to supposedly ‘haunted’ locations so that I can channel the feelings I experience while there so that I can attempt to experience fear so that I can accurately write about it using those referenced memories. Now, in case you haven’t noticed, I have taken effort to express all of my abnormalities here. That is just so that you can catch a glimpse behind the curtain. I am also a gamer, a husband, a hard worker, I love to read/write, I am an avid movie watcher, and recently a movie-reviewer. I love cinema devoutly. I also enjoy weight training, gyms in general, fighting and martial arts, paintball, hiking, camping, and I collect knives and swords. As soon as I can gather up the money, I actually intend on buying the machinery and supplies needed to create my own knives. I have been in contact with a professional knifemaker in Brooklyn, New York, who has been helping me get that set up. I figure, why not? I’ve been designing weapons since I was a child. I also sketch in pencils and charcoal, but can’t paint worth of shit though. Surprise, surprise, I only deal well with shading and the contrasts of light and dark. I am very heavily involved in technology, both hardware and software. I freelance graphic design occasionally. I also enjoy tattoos and piercings. At one point in my life, I had 5 facial piercings, some of which were very, very rare. Both arms and my chest are inked up, but a simple shirt can and does cover them most of the time, mainly for work. Nowadays, I look just like everyone else. Much like ‘Dexter Morgan’, I have dedicated myself to blending in, at least on the outside. But in my younger years, I had hair down to my belly button, dental acrylic fangs (beast-like, not vampyric), SFX contacts, leather pants and vests, as well as talons for fingernails, basically the whole schtick. But now, the only way you could notice the darkness in me is by simply staring deeply into my eyes. I know it’s there, but I am trying to combat it as best as I can.
I also suffer from Eisoptrophobia. Look it up real quick. It is technically classified as an irrational fear of mirrors or reflective surfaces. I say “technically”, because my fear is not irrational, it is 100% supernatural. I know exactly why I have a fear of mirrors. I have personally seen things in mirrors I should not have. Shadows behind me in my reflection that didn’t exist in the real world. Facial expressions on my reflection that I was not making. Shit like that. There are also other reasons why I am not comfortable around mirrors.
Other superstitions revolve around the idea of the mirror acting as a receptacle for the soul. So, if someone dies, the mirrors in the house should be covered to prevent the soul entering the mirror
(“Death and dying in central Appalachia: changing attitudes and practice”, J. K. Crissman, University of Illinois Press, 1994).
Also, mirrors are made out of glass. Glass is made out of super heated sand. God only knows what could have happened on that sand before it was gathered and turned to glass. People could have been slaughtered on that sand during beach invasions throughout history. Occultists could have performed dark rituals on the beach at night one day before that sand was gathered. You quite literally never know where it comes from. Through random chance, I found a comment posted to a link explaining what this phobia entails. It was the only comment there, and appears to be anonymous.This does not shock me, but the comment is pasted below, and the original article explaining this phobia can be found here:
There are things that people have yet to discover about mirrors. Like mirror walkers for instance. They’re these nasty little demons who travel throught mirrors but have the ability to come out of the mirror where ever they please. Thyy are born as twins and I don’t know how many are left but my coven has been under attack by them the last few days. They’ve done everything from bust my lip open to choke my sister to even moving things and trying to break our communications with eachother. The bottom line is, there is something in my house that apparently has friends that are linked to my friends houses. I’ve had girls almost be hospitalized for burns, cuts, bruises, handprints, ect. that weren’t there when they went to bed the night before. Believe it not? I’m an eye witness.
I did not write that quote, but I could have. (Though I’m not in a coven.) I have personally witnessed my own reflection blink when I had not, or I would blink when it would not. I would also catch strange little smiles on my reflections face from the corner of my eye. And there are people out there who think people like myself are crazy, however, I have a test for them. This experiment will not (I should say “should not“) produce any supernatural activity, I just want to prove a point. Put yourself in a low light situation. A single candle, or maybe even a dimly lit nightlight. Now, find a glass mirror. Preferably an older mirror, but any real, glass mirror will do. Now, with the candles behind you, only so that you can make out the details of your own face and your reflections face, get close to the mirror. Keep your eyes open. Press your forehead against the glass, but stare into your reflection’s eyes. Try not to blink. Count slowly to 20, without moving. Try to focus on your breathing. So that “1” represents you inhaling your breath. Hold it for a second, then slowly let it out during “2”. Then “3” is inhale, and “4” is exhale. Do that for the entire duration. Every odd number is an inhale, and every even number is an exhale. Once you hit about “10”, slowly smile, and then continue doing the inhale/exhale slow countdown. After 20, slowly – very slowly – pull/peel your forehead off of the glass, and never break eye contact with your reflection.
I guarantee that you will feel uneasy, and absolutely not alone. Test this at your own will/risk, because I happen to know for a fact that it works.
I am not crazy. I was never with one therapist for a long enough period of time because I was constantly bounced around from one to the other, but when I was, the general consensus seemed to be that I had “sociopathic tendencies”. I am not mentally unbalanced, but I do have emotional issues in the sense that I don’t react to certain things like you do. I have no social filter, I say whatever is on my mind. I do have violent outbursts, though not frequently, and never directed towards those I love. I do enjoy hurting people when they deserve it though, and I have been trying to change that though. I do not give them any warning. In my youth, I have stabbed people. I have sliced them, and been sliced myself, almost stabbed as well. I have stared down the barrel of a gun in my past, and I have stared down my own barrel. I used to have trouble understanding “proper morals” or “etiquette”. The reason that I became a Bail Enforcement / Fugitive Recovery Agent is because it is one of the only jobs available where I could hunt people.
“There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.” – Ernest Hemingway
So, for those with a colorful imagination, I will give you an example in a moment of what a normal confrontation with me is like, but I will explain a few things first.
I am a big man. I stand at about 6’2″, but I am very wide. As I have gotten older I have put on some weight, but for most of my twenties, I was in petty decent shape. I have a lot of natural strength. An abnormal amount of physical strength, actually. I’m what some people call “retard strong”, forgive the politically incorrect statement. All my life I have done shit that most people couldn’t, physically. I compliment that natural strength by strength training frequently in the gym. I am also ridiculously pale skinned. I am of Polish, Irish, and German heritage. I am whiter than white. I have either light or dark grey eyes, depending on my mood. (They change colors, literally). If you look into my eyes, you can see little shards or flecks of “light”, as if there is something broken inside me. I believe that there may very well be. I have been told many times that my eyes are offsetting to people. I have a tendency to stare. And I don’t blink very much. I also know how to fight (I have studied Filipino Kai and some Pentcak Silat) and I am currently considering taking more Krav Maga classes if I can gather up the money to pay for them. I have an extremely high tolerance for pain. I once walked on a broken hip with floating chips in my knee for 7 months before going to see a doctor. I had a very violent youth, so violence, blood, and bone do not scare or shock me. Now, on to that example.
For one of my jobs as I have mentioned, I work as a bouncer on a club security team. Sometimes I will be at the door, and here is an example of a situation I’ve encountered in the past. A group of people walk up to me. I look right at the first couple, and tell the woman not to bother giving me her ID because she is obviously old enough and shouldn’t be out clubbing as is. Still in shock, I’ll ask the second couple for ID. I’ll look at it, examine it, make sure the dates match up and then scan the photo and match it to the person’s face. Then, I’ll use my sense of touch and experience to determine the quality of the ID and then I’ll determine if it is indeed genuine. I hand it back to them, and then ask them for additional ID because that one looks fake. I’ll tell him that he looks too young and the ID is questionable. I’ll refuse to let them in. When I make my mind up, I usually don’t budge. Then, they become ‘lawyers’ and try to negotiate their way in. I refuse, and embarrass them in front of their women by saying things like “There’s no chance you’re getting in here, so turn around and go somewhere else.‘. Then, of course, they’ll try “But I know the owner!“, to which I respond “Really?! Me too! Now get the fuck out of here and stop wasting my time.“. By this point, they will try to offer me a bribe, and no matter what they try to hand me, I’ll embarrass them again. “What, you think $50 is going to make me overlook your stupidity? You tried to play me for a fool with that fake ass ID, just shut up and leave before your mouth makes it any worse.” At this point, the men are all starting to get pissed and start getting all loud and aggressive. I will sit there, calmly staring at them and telling them to calm down and shut their mouths as they become increasingly confrontational. At this point, there are three men in front of me, and I’m still calmly poking the hornets nest. All I am waiting for is that first person to get physical with me. In this line of work, if you are security/bouncer, and you throw the first strike, you are at fault and can be arrested and/or sued. So one of the men gets in my face, nose-to-nose. Eye to eye. I won’t blink. I’ll smile at him, and then, down low, where no one else can see what happened, I will gently lift up my boot, and step on his toes, provoking him. The second he raises his hands to shove me backwards off of him, I have already punched him in the throat and grabbed onto his wrist, trying my best to spiral fracture it. I am aware that I provoked him, but couldn’t tell you why I did. I just did. Maybe I was hoping for a physical confrontation. Either way, I will do everything I can to hyperextend, break, or spiral fracture any joint that my opponents leaves open. Kick out the knee, jam the elbows, cave in the ankle to break it…. Hell, I’ve even been known to grab someone by the thumbs and continue twisting until I hear a snap or two. After everything is said and done, I will stand there, watching all of them wriggle and roll around on the floor, and then I will let the rest of the security team know that there was a problem in the first place, and to alert the police. I realize that I have a sadistic streak. I cannot help that, but I have been trying to better control it. This is my personality. I engage in situations like that because I didn’t want to needlessly involve any of the other people on the security team, but also because I like hurting people who I feel deserve it. I am selfish. I wanted that group to myself. I don’t like to share. And since they were the ones who made the first move, I was completely and legally justified in reacting how I did, as that makes it self-defense. I tell you this, because it gives you tremendous insight to how I am. I will not yell, or even raise my voice. I won’t threaten you. I won’t display body language that will appear confrontational. I won’t talk any form of shit. I will simply lock eyes with you, refuse to back down, continually freeze a smile on my face, and then severely hurt you if you try anything to hurt me. I am usually very well armed too, but a lot of that has to do with self protection for the jobs I have chosen. Part of Filipino Kali is that it is a weapon-based martial art, so when I studied it, weapons were a prerequisite. You are looked at as an artist, and your blades are your instruments. Your opponent’s body is your canvas, and the more damage you do, the prettier the art is. It’s one of the most physically devastating martial arts in the world. That’s why I chose to learn it. And I am damned good and mighty fast with a blade. The things I can do to a person in self-defense with a 1″ blade are astounding. But, I digress….
So in closing, we can all agree that I am not normal. Do I believe that I am “demonically possessed“? Absolutely not, though I do exhibit quite the many traits. Do I believe I am normal? Absolutely not. I share more things in common with Richard “The Iceman” Kuklinski than I do with the average person. I DO however, always seem to travel with a “spiritual entourage“, if you will and random stuff always seems to happen to those around me eventually. I AM constantly trying to be a better person. I have become a lot more compassionate lately, and notice a genuine desire to help others when and how I can. While I did not go into very much detail explaining my life, trust me, there are so many stories left untold. I’m sure that they will come out over time through this little blog of mine. All I can say is that I hope you remain entertained, and that I at least interest you. I guess time will tell…..