 |
| Apparently The Inside Of My Toe Joint At The Moment |
I may have mentioned it here before, but one of my guilty pleasures is spending time on the website and blog of a Crystal True Believer.
In point of fact there is literally no paranormal horseshit she DOESN'T believe. She's an absolute geyser of magical chatter, a self-aggrandizing lover of dead musicians, demons, and religious figures (not "lover" as in "deeply appreciating" but that they are besotted with her and spend a fair chunk of their otherwise unproductive dead time chasing her around to cuddle her and occasionally beat and violently force themselves on her mostly because of her high status on "the other side").
She will remain unnamed here as she's neither friend, follower, or, for that matter, anyone I know or have any desire to know. She's just a random feed I ran across out in the weirdness of the interwebs, but a fair to passable writer for all that.
A self-designated powerful witch, numerologist, astrologer, and multi-power-deck Tarot practitioner, she takes advice from the universe in the form of dragonflies and randomly noticed numbers on digital clocks. She constantly rants about her shit life and bizarro real-life relationships and also how she has "manifested" her perfect life that's all she ever asked for. These incompatible versions turn up in about equal measure and not infrequently at the same time.
She's an occasionally hallucinating suicidal personality who has manged to delude herself that she's a uniquely important cog in the mechanics of the universe. The universe in fact often speaks to her personally and apparently uses her mid-rank retail job, shitty bosses, and no-kidding, 100% craptacular choices in men as Holy Fire to forge her into a higher level being worthy of being Jesus's main squeeze.
Frankly, I always figured her red-zone psychosis-index, train-wreck postings were either high-concept fiction (about a .01% chance) or simply a defense to her utterly ordinary life that often veers catastrophically across the "sucks/doesn't suck" line (about 99.99% chance) regardless of the fact that in absolute terms she's doing pretty well.
But it turns out that her utter devotion to crystals and their powers was right after all.
For example, my plans and schemes for a five-day weekend were completely derailed by microscopic piss crystals sanding down one of my toe joints. The Doc calls it "gout" but he ain't fooling me. The lesson is that crystals can chuck an entire day, week, month, year, or lifetime off in unplanned directions which mostly feature about three days at a time of me persuading myself to NOT do a bit of emergency surgery on the toe and joint involved with a hand-axe, which would be over quicker and be nearly infinitely less painful.
Also Jim Morrison (yeah, Dead Rock Star Jim Morrison -- see above) stopped by in the form of a large dragonfly just as the clock on the TV screensaver changed to 11:11. He stuck an industrial-sized icepick into my toe joint and told me to back off jerking his woman's chain or she was going to whup a witch-curse on me.
See? There ya go. I've never interacted with her at all, so how did she and her dangerous, moody, dead rock-star boyfriend know that I think she's a psycho goofball whose main value is allowing me to review even my worst days and say "Well at least I ain't her"?
Power indeed.
So there's that.
I have FB friends who post that it's 11:11. Friends who -- OK it was my recent ex -- will see a dragonfly or a finch or a beetle or some damn thing and look up its significance as a spirit animal. I have crystals -- cheap and I guess powerful ones like tourmaline -- she placed in corners of my house. Well, they're not in my way and I'm not sad the cat has something to bat around. Anyway, you describe all this shit much better than I could. Sorry about the gout.
ReplyDeleteBy now you must see that I attract strange friends. In fact, I do. And noticing this hasn't stopped me attracting even stranger ones. It seems I am making up for the years I spent making up for growing up in Berkeley CA. Well, why not, there isn't much time left and I'm still convinced the world is weirder than I think, I just want to make sure.
ReplyDeleteI submit that if you grew up in Berkeley, the world is NOT weirder than you think. Possibly with the exception of Peculiar, Missouri.
DeleteIn a group of weirdos, I'm still the oddball. Last night at a philosophy meetup, I realized I was the only one who actually READ the book. Read, as in eyes. The rest of them, including the host, LISTENED to the book. That just seems so bizarre to me... and they tried to convince me that listening to books is great, but I dunno. Anyway, I probably would enjoy that crystal woman's site just so I could be assured there's someone even stranger than me out there. All that "spirit" stuff seems harmless enough, I suppose. I too notice numbers and what seem to be patterns, not because I think they mean anything, but just cuz it's fun. As far as bugs, ew no. There are so many zillions of them, how can seeing one be significant in any way? If she saw an endangered tiger, well that would be exciting!
ReplyDeleteThis one time? I was in a Chinese restaurant and after the meal I opened my fortune cookie, which read, "You will be hit by a 1972 Volkswagen Bug." I thought, wow, this is really specific, and there's no way! This can't be this specific and still be right, so I grabbed a different fortune cookie from the next table over and broke it open. It read, "Yellow." And I have to admit, that's what I was wondering. So, it's all very weird. Anyway, later I was hit by a '72 Volkswagen, but it was red.
ReplyDeleteOK, I laughed -- gotta remember that one.
DeleteWell I agree, she sounds completely loony but oddly entertaining. It's an interesting question though as to how and where we draw the line between loony and not. For instance religious people believe in stuff that would get you committed if it hadn't been certified by 2000 years of faith. And then my ex husband regards belief in some sort of soul to be on a par with crystals whereas I'm inclined to it but see myself as largely a rationalist. And then there's the various classes of evidence to be considered, from laboratory standard to evidence of the senses shared by all to evidence of the senses shared by few or none...
ReplyDeleteYeah, I 'm pretty much a straight-up rationalist. I don't much care what people believe, but am inclined to call "bullshit" without provocation when someone informs me that the reason their life is shit or some other Horrible Thing is happening is because it's an even-numbered year. "No, sweets," I wanna say, "I've been reading you for years, and there just ain't that many even numbered years from now till the end of time."
ReplyDeleteProlly ought to alternate using a non-Gregorian calendar, yeah? Keep 'em all odd, that's my vote. I'm normally pretty low-profile around people like this occasionally going so far as to treat them like someone who's making a lick of sense, but have to admit it does seem to annoy them when I finally can't help myself and burst out into laughter at their goofy crapola. "No sense of humor" seems to be a high-percentage feature of these clowns.
I can't imagine why. Anyone who thinks that so much time that it makes no practical difference between it and infinity and billions on billons of light years of space and trazillions (I made that up) of stars have all aligned in order to spell out cryptic messages to a flash-in-the-pan clot of slowly-evolving apes infesting an invisible dust mote in the outer fringes of the universe really SHOULD have a sense of humor, since nothing else in their wiring seems to be firing right.
trazillion X 1,000 = 1 Squillion. That's a one, followed by a shit-ton of zeroes.
ReplyDelete