When I was moving out on my own what I wanted most of all was for my new life to be airy.
When I was married life was not airy at all. My husband did not like to interact with me. But I wasn’t supposed to interact with anyone else either. He said if I left the house I would get murdered so I stayed at home. Receiving a message from someone or just a random email was the highlight of my week. There were pros and cons to this sort of life.
But now, my life is nothing but messages from strangers. Two hundred a day. What is it called when winds rip people apart until they die with bits of them flying everywhere? That is what’s happening to me.
There are ebay messages, herbal messages, music messages, lawyer messages, messages about wizzles and fizzles, messages from men, messages from women.
Two hundred messages a day and I’m making two hundred dollars a month. This seems off somehow.
My friend made a match.com account as me which I think is hilarious. She pretends to be me and then forwards people she likes to the real me. I like the part where she interacts with them better. I’m too mentally overwhelmed to respond to anyone. Even the people I meet I can hardly remember their names and faces. Hi it’s Chris! Oh yeah, Chris, of course. You build houses. No, I’m the Chris that flies planes. Busy girl.
But I’m not a busy girl. I’m a girl whose brain is being electrocuted with random inputs from all directions. Meanwhile there is nothing solid in my life. I want to visit my dogs again. But if I get arrested there will be no one to bail me out.
Ten thousand winds but nothing solid. No feeling either. The other day I walked by a man who was on the floor with a hurt foot. “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor.” I said “Oh are you really?” he asked in a relieved voice. “No, I’m joking.” I said with a laugh. Two minutes later reality hits and I realize I sounded like a total psychopath. This will be another black mark added to my reputation of cruelty and violence. But I’m not a psychopath. Everything is just so airy it starts to seem unreal. So many words. So many people. No way to assemble my bookcase because my wrist still doesn’t work from the last time James squirted me over with dishsoap and pushed me into a wall.
Husband 1, in a past life, belonged to a race known as the Wise Ones. Wise Ones lived in lavish castles. They did not work. The vibration of their souls attracted great wealth to them. When Wise Ones incarnate on the earth plane however, they struggle to survive without the riches their soul is accustomed to. This can lead to depression and even heart failure.
Sometimes husband would lie on the floor with his hands on his chest, struggling to breath, too heavy for this world. The only thing that could save him was millions of dollars.
It seemed unlikely he could earn the money himself. Years of job aptitude tests had uncovered only two potential career options- wine tasting & boob feeling. I tried to find him a job in the boob feeling industry but massage therapy was too demanding. He got a job in a wine store but they only paid minimum wage.
I painted, wrote songs & made a little money but not enough to support us much less give him the lifestyle he deserved. Then he read a book on channeling and decided that I could channel information on how we could manifest millions of dollars straight from the ethers.
I didn’t feel great about this. Becoming a hollow tube for other beings to speak through wasn’t my cup of tea and I didn’t think I could do it anyway. But he needed millions of dollars within the next few months and I didn’t have a better idea.
So…. to make a long story short, I channeled that we should rename our apartment Archimedian Estates and paint everything inside it pink, gold & black. And we needed to fill it with 100 species of plants & a pet from each animal kingdom. This would make us millionaires.
A couple months later, the whole place was pink, black and gold. We had 26 plants, one snake, two birds, a fish and an eviction notice. Far from being millionaires, husband was now hitting up my friends and family for money- a humiliating fate. We separated then. I felt maybe, just maybe, I could eke out an existence alone, but there was no way in hell I could support a Wise One. They need all of life’s finest things just to survive.
The world was harder than I imagined though and a year later we were back together. The need for channeling picked up. Could I channel Mary, Archangel Michael, the Moon, the spirit of Fame? It made my head feel weird. But if I objected he would say “Hang on- I need to ask Auriel about this!” He yelled at me constantly but never at the other beings. Sometimes I would switch into them just as a safe spot.
Channeling snowballed fast. Before long Julien had been pushed out altogether and replaced by an ever growing cast of characters. It was no longer about channeling advice either. Now it was about him connecting to different women who were his wives and all these different humanoids who were his children.
His children included 5 giants- Brownie, Big Stuff, Ned, Ted & Fred. 1,000 genies called ‘the Hectors.’ And various others such as Sweet Cookie, Shelley, Fufu, Hunkdehunk, Sweetsie & Cherry Lemonade Spritz.
His wives are harder to remember but included Clementine, Ambrosia, Auriel & Earth. He would have sex with them. In general he preferred a different type of female than me- the Strong Business Woman. His wives were closer to this ideal. They even had different bodies.
I don’t know how long the period lasted in which I was continuously other people. Maybe 5 years. During this time husband got a job at Target. I would stay home reading books on magic & trying to do impossible things. Home was various places, like motels in the middle of deserts. Basements on the outskirts of Brooklyn.
I no longer ate normal food but subsisted on weird things like Chuckles & Jello. I liked these foods because they resembled the jell loafs Auriel ate in her world. I didn’t have normal clothes either. At one point the only thing I had to wear was a little girl’s cheerleading skirt he brought me home from Target & a teddy bear sweater (a sweater made for a teddy bear) which I wore as a hat.
Sometimes I would write songs but mostly I was plagued by weird fears, like my legs falling off. Unresolvable mental dilemmas would torture me for days like whether my soul smelled more like rose or ylang ylang. I would prank call people or send them weird letters & they would think I was scary.
I knew I had fallen out of step with society & felt ashamed but couldn’t find my way back. The only person I spoke with was my husband but he didn’t speak to me, just through me to his wives and children. I could no longer choose to not channel them since that would mean separating a man from his entire family, an inhumane act by any standards. They seemed to bring him joy.
And to this day I struggle with dissociative identity disorder. Maybe. But I don’t know if this is related to the time I spent being other people or not.
The End
Shelley. She had a soft jelly-like yellow body & rode in a wheelchair since her body was too soft. She wore a football helmet on her head and kept covered up in a blanket since she got so cold. She loved math & her pet fish. Sometimes I miss these friends & feel sad they are fading from my imagination.
Sweet Cookie who has two very wise pet squirrels- Nimrod & Noodleface. They have all sorts of special knowledge.
There are different types of songs I guess. This is one of those songs that you hear playing in your head which you assume will annoy people, but you write it down anyway, just in case it matters somehow. In general, I try not to judge songs too much since their meaning changes to me over time. Lots of songs which I once thought were dumb started to seem important to me in hindsight.
Hold it together & fight through the mud You will find him there. Close your eyes tightly the fingers you feel A spider through your hair.
Hands on my head will you steady me, steady me There’s too much I’ve seen. I only thought things would be wonderful I didn’t know he could be mean.
I loved a dream. I loved a dream.
Hands on my head could you steady me, steady me Show me who I am. Winds on my mind they are blowing me, blowing me Blowing me round in circles again.
Sometimes I feel like I could do so many things Running fast & far. Finding myself in another place, other place Who took me here? Who drove the car?
I loved a dream. I loved a dream.
Hands on my head could you steady me, steady me Guide me through the dark? Keep touching me til I’m ready so ready then Let my mind restart.
Scanning my eyes through another town other town Always gray and blue Searching again for the boldest man, oldest man He will be you.
Forces of air are you trying to speak to me Why do you blow on my mind? Help me to be just one person, the same person All of the time.
Well, this is my first song written and recorded in West Virginia. I thought maybe I’d end up writing gospel songs, but I guess it didn’t turn out that way… And now is the hard part where I have to say something about the song I have written… so, I suppose this is a song about me… being held prisoner by a swamp monster. What else can I say? Sometimes I find it so hard to write these posts, because I feel I lack that core identity and sense of self that makes it possible to project oneself forward into the world. When I try to search for my ego, that warm sun within, all I can find are cake crumbs in a void… as though there once was something there, but someone ate it. Which in a way is what this song is about… a person’s light and sense of self dissolving through being held prisoner too long.
But, you know what Bruce Springsteen says, “Everything that dies, someday comes back.” If you leave it sitting on the counter long enough, a crumb WILL one day turn back into a cake.
