Sunday, January 22, 2012
Pondering Phantasms: A Repurpose of Passages
I first encountered the specter when I was a fledgling theorist
search of a philosophy) at a conference in Central Europe.
At the start of my visit, I erred as have a few arrogant foreign
early 20th Century archeologists have before mysteriously disappearing
from a tomb dig site in Egypt--I angered the spirits. Fortunately
for me, I was on a plane the within a week possessing only certified
souvenirs: conference swag, städtisch logo t-shirts, and
a contemporary perfume bottle for my mother. I noted the encounter
in the poem Utterances
in the Night.
I had not such another encounter until I was in Tribeca, New
York City. I had a "hands-on" experience with a bogeyman.
Nascent was I with this otherness. Otherness, for me at the time,
was an academic term used to describe the culturally disenfranchised.
However, the 'otherness'
I was attempting to disambiguate was a physical being in the abstract
senseperhaps more like an alter-ego, something like a conscience
Last Night I Dreamt of the Bogeyman (p. 13-14).
Clinically, this type of anthropomorphism could be termed as
due to, in my case, a sleep
disorder. Was my throat occluded by my tongue, thus blocking
airflow to my brain, causing heart palpitations, raising my pulse
rate--a seizure perhaps induced by hazardous medication(s): Hags
and Nightmares. Sleep Paralysis and the Midnight Terror.
As I have witnessed when my eyes were wide open, the appearances
Velvet Shadow were beginning to harass me when I began
my diabetes treatment. The diabetes unfortunately was a symptom
of a greater ghost provocateur: Cushings Disease. Although curable,
the spiking hormonal imbalances allowed me to envision uncanny
motion-stop impressions surreally over-voiced expressions: On
Being Patient #2: Strike or Spike, part II; On
Being Patient #3: Reversion Triggers, part I; On
Being Patient #6: A Philosopher's Progress: (dis)Organization;
Being Patient #13: Recuperation: the Recovery of a Keen Being.
A recount on the recall, a revisitation, and a hormonal addendum,
I curl up in bed, pondering my sightings, thinking
funny thoughts--maddening, even as I walk stiffly, not sternly,
painfully stout, frank in my steps from the office to the car,
back to the castle which I refer to as home, then dinner, later
withdrawal--haunted by my writings.