There’s some kind of weird black magic in the air in my life this year. Whatever occult angels or gods or demons or spirits mysteriously rule my world have finally decided to put me under house arrest here with the other hoary ghosts on the Hollywood hamster wheel. So here I am again, making friends with myself and the ghosts of my past in this life and death sentence of solitary confinement and solitary reflection.
Never one to miss any tattered little scrap of redemption along this bloody road to hell I’ve traveled so far and wide for so very very long now, I’ve risen once again to the occasion; and in so doing it seems I have become a ghost myself now, haunting the houses of the holy and the profane without a clue to the reason or the ultimate rhyme.
The words “More will be revealed” seem to take on a special significance as I sit here at the edge of the void fine tuning my antenna and waiting for a sign. Ah, but it’s a pretty good gig all in all. Ya won’t find me complaining, not this boy! Not today. No way. I know my size and shape at least, and I know where it fits: that much I know – which is more than I can say for most of my fellow spooks in this random funny house fun ride – not that I’m qualified to say much about the lives of other phantoms, even here in the so-called “afterlife.” What a funny term. After what, for fuck’s sake?
But life in an abandoned amusement park like this has its perks indeed. And I’m not about to miss out on another free ride, not if I can help it. Like another one of my fellow travelers HST famously said one time, I bought the ticket a long time ago. So I’m here again, taking the ride, all alone with the good Doctor and a whole gang of other weird kindred spirits, sitting alone in an empty house; a haunted museum crowded to the rafters with ghosts and hobgoblins and goons like me. And like my grandma always used to say, “that’s the way the cookie crumbles.”
If ya can’t beat em, join em, I say.
Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2011.