Fragmented Memories in a Haunted House

Actually wrote this while living in a haunted house. I went through this weird writing phase where I tried to put fragments of things together to tell a story in glimpses. I wrote a whole story in sentence fragments during this time. Not kidding. To this day, I still can’t look at it. (JD 1/12)


I noticed at some point during the night that the universe was shifting constantly. It was very active, energetic, chaotic. At this point, I became naked. A slave to the oozing reality that trickles down the walls of my brain. How can you understand? I wanted to yell. To scream. But I didn’t. I couldn’t speak. I was immobile. Rooted Rooted Rooted to the haunted ground of that storied house.


I wondered often if SHE was watching. SHE being one of the spirits that shares a space with four single men. A little girl in a white dress and blonde pig tails. You know, that damned ghost. I sat and I wondered if SHE was there, in the room at that moment. Then I felt bad. I mean, what were we teaching this child? We were corrupting her spirit, even if she was dead. Then the damn bottle found its way into my hands and I drank. I pulled. I did whatever it is that you need me to do so this can make sense.


I am done. I am dressed. I am finished. I am completion. I am a cycle. I am ordered chaos.


Come with me. Do you believe yet? I believe.

I believe men are superior to cows. I believe that original angles have become more important than original ideas. I believe that sex is too often a power struggle and too rarely a Holy Moment when it should be the other way around. I believe more is said with a look than a word. I believe more is said with a kiss than a look. I believe popular culture is Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, Jack Kerouac, disco and John Travolta. I believe that the pop culture of any given decade stems from the above listed. I believe that Saved By The Bell was the pinnacle of that dude that played Zach’s career. I believe society is afraid of reality. That’s why everybody is always undoing something. I believe in love and passion. I believe in living. Not doing. Living. There’s a difference. I believe in creating the world around you. I believe we are all part of something we don’t understand. I believe we aren’t meant to.


The echo is gone now. The universe shifts back. I’m at a table. A cup of coffee keeps making its way to my lips. My hand is scribbling in this notebook involuntarily. I have no idea what I’m writing. I think I better stop for a while.


About Universal Shift

I am the Sonata Unusual. I coat myself with some obtuse angle too far below zero to become any warmer. I create motivation, activate schemas, moisten gardens with scents of natural honeydew. Construct this meaning, you sleepy flock. Silence your singing—despairing contortions out of tune. Shatter the brittle butterfly glass with your hideous wailing. I am born of my god’s imagination. When I die I shall meet him. For there are many things to discuss over tea…or scotch.

Posted on January 12, 2012, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. more like love this.

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