Saturday, March 2, 2013

Edith & wilkravitz see a GHOST... Still in LONDON.. 3/2/13

By now they all 'know' that magic is they didn't already. But what they have here is codified enchantment, with rules and exercises and merit badges. No, they don't call then merit badges. They call them 'plateaus.' But what's the difference. Edith says we're different. We play magic by ear. This is me, wilkravitz. I don't know where the disembodied spirits are. Mr. Never-you-Mind disappeared and Zebulon, the thirteen year old Judean kid who was stoned to death is off touring with a rock group. I like that kid. 

We went wandering 'round the city. Edith and I. Some guy back at the Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn house threw an obfuscation bubble  on us. It didn't make us invisible, just unmemorable. People walk right by. We sit on the bus and talk to each other. We talk about anything, but no one pays any attention.  We throw peanut shells at the back of people's heads, but they don't care. Must think it's like a big bug sliding down their neck.

Stopped at a little fish and chips place. Real nice...narrow, cozy store-front. We got take-out seafood places in Philadelphia, but this is London. This is different. Thick, good sized pieces of batter dipped cod... real 'french fries,' the kind you get at the shore with vinegar on 'em. Saw a lot of Middle Eastern people in there. You know why? Fish is hallal, usually fairly kosher too. And they don't fry it in lard, so that's even better. Kid behind the counter said they use peanut oil. 

I saw a ghost sitting in the corner. A girl in her twenties sat there too, but she didn't see him.  They shared a little, formica topped table. She ate this cold shrimp thing tossed over a salad. He leaned back against the white, subway tile wall, staring up at the ceiling. Every once in a while he'd stick his fingers in his ears and rock back and forth. Edith said his name was Zeke. She waved at him. He mouthed the words 'F. U' to her. She laughed. Then Zeke leaned over and licked one of the big shrimp on Beverly's plate. but I don't know how much spit a ghost has.

We waited til the girl left. I got another piece of fish. It was SO good. Edith went over to him. She addressed a spot maybe ten inches in front of the wall and said - Hello, Bertram. My name is Edith. Ghost guy reached out with one finger and poked her in the stomach. She said - I'm not a spirit. Well, I AM a spirit, but I'm still locked inside this 'fat lady' suit. How 'bout you? What's your story?

The question seemed to agitate him, because he ripped out his tongue and rubbed it all over her face. Rancid ooze dripped down her cheeks. But she knew it was just ghost crap. So she didn't do anything. She didn't react. That makes all kinds of ghost crap disappear real fast. Bertram just looked at her. But I could see he was a little bit surprised. Grabbed the meaty, red, thing off the table and shoved it back in. Edith said - Ewww, no. You got it in backwards, you dumb son-of-a-bitch. Turn it around. I don't want to look at no stump...... So he spit it out into his hand and fixed it.

She said - you can't leave here, can you?..... He shook his head 'no.'.... Then he stared up at the ceiling again. Not at the ceiling, really. He was looking at the the fixture. ..... Edith said - How did you lose your body?...... I left it on the tube, you fat cow - said the spirit.... But she didn't make a big thing out of it. Some dead people are like that, you know.

Turned out he was a 'tree trunk' ghost, a rooted ghost... stuck right where he was forever, or until he wised up a little. Edith says The Pines back home are full of them. Dead racketeers planted in shallow graves. Them what owed money. Some places call 'em 'grave yard ghosts.'   Sad spirits tied to where they died. Maybe too ashamed or too scared to face their lovey-doveys.  Or just too mixed up. There's a theory it's a kind of denial. As long as they stay where it happened, or right by the body, everything's all right. Nobody dead there. They're OK. And God let's them stay that way as long as they want, because He don't worry about time.

Kid behind the counter said - You talkin' to Zeke?.... Edith said - Yeah. What? You know him?.... Kid says - Little bit. Seen him once when the power went out. All by myself, I was. Rainy night. Cold. Y'know what I mean? I look at him. He looks at me. Not so much 'at' me, as through me. Then the lights came back, but he was gone. Knew his name was 'Zeke' though. Wanted me to know that. Think he's buried under the floor. Place ain't got no basement, just a slab...just a cement slab. He's under it. Right there. Right in that corner. Right where he sits. Ran right out the first time. Didn't clean no fryer, or nothing. But one night don't mean much. Only found one dead mouse floatin' in it. You know how hot a fryer gets. Fish out the mouse. Fire it up. Ain't gonna hurt nobody.

I felt sick. Kid just laughed a little. Edith said a prayer. Zeke quietly whispered - Thank you... Edith turns 'round to me and says - Gimme a piece a fish..... I don't want to, but I do it. I break off a nice piece of batter dipped fish and give it to her. I lean over. She takes it. Place is pretty small, maybe twelve, little two-seater tables. She didn't have to reach too far. 

Then she takes a napkin out of the chrome holder, puts it down and lays the fish on it. Slides it over to Zeke. He must smell it, or something, or 'see' it. He's a ghost. Who knows if he just sees with his eyes? Four seconds later, he leans over and starts licking it, like a cat. I can see the cement dust in his hair and in his ears and all. He IS buried under here. That's for sure.

Never found out why, though. Edith says it ain't right to push. 

So we paid our bill and left.

Ghosts are everywhere. But if you read stories like this, you know that.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    Thank you. please hit GHOST ... If you want more. Your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome. 

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