COVID Ghost Story Part II

I guess I believe in ghosts now

Greetings from San Diego! I finally got a negative COVID test and was able to come home. I only had symptoms for a few days and spent most of my time in Belfast reading and writing in one of the upstairs bedrooms at Aunt Margaret’s house while Nuvia went out during the day and hung out downstairs at night. Other than the symptoms I reported last week, the only obvious after-effect is a lingering cough. No brain fog. No fatigue. No shortness of breath. All good news.

For those who read last week’s post and are wondering if there was any more paranormal activity at Aunt Margaret’s house, I would have to yes. In fact, there are three events that we’re at a loss to explain:

Shortly after I posted last week’s newsletter, I was reading in bed and drifting off to sleep when I felt a gust of warm breath on my face. I opened my eyes, but no one was there. I was alone in the room. When Nuvia experienced something similar she felt like someone was blowing smoke in her face. I didn’t have that sensation at all. I interpreted it as a friendly gesture, almost like a kiss. Granted, I’m a bit of a lucid dreamer and I often see and hear things in my dreams as I’m drifting off to sleep, but I’ve never experienced anything like this.

Even though I urged her not to, Nuvia would not shut up about the cigarette smoke she swore she could smell. One night she wore a mask to bed and when she woke up the next morning, the mask had changed color. It wasn’t completely black, but it was several shades darker. Neither of us had ever seen a mask do that before. What was even more remarkable is that it took place in a matter of hours.

I wore a mask virtually all the time and I didn’t observe the slightest bit of discoloration. Nuvia’s mask did, however, remind me of a scene in my short story, Paper Masks, which was published a year before the pandemic, where the workers at a strange facility come down with a mysterious disease that infests the lungs and deranges the senses.)

The strangest occurrence took place in the bathroom. Nuvia had opened up a cabinet looking for… I’m not sure what she was looking for, probably cleaning supplies, and was surveying the contents of the glass shelves when one of them suddenly gave way and fell. Nuvia caught it and prevented it from breaking but there was no reason for the shelf to fall like that. It just happened.

I realize that my tone here is a little tongue-in-cheek, but I’m convinced that we came into contact with Aunt Margaret’s spirit while we stayed at her house in Belfast. I believe this without having any kind of understanding of how such a thing might be possible. The mechanics of the spirit of someone who is no longer living occupying the house in which she used to live are beyond the scope of my comprehension, like a dog writing poetry, which isn’t a fair analogy because dogs, I believe, have a superior apparatus for detecting the presence of things that are no longer there.

That said, at no point in all of this did I feel frightened, anxious, or worried. In every room of Aunt Margaret’s house was evidence of the great love she carried for her son. For me, that’s who Aunt Margaret was. A vessel for an almost otherworldly love. For Nuvia, Aunt Margaret was defined by a different set of actions, which is I why she had a very different experience in her home.

Although we learned that Aunt Margaret was feisty and a fighter, which was no surprise to me, I never felt threatened by her presence. Ghost stories and horror movies have taught us we’re supposed to feel a certain way when we’re confronted with the spirits of those who are no longer with us. I didn’t feel the slightest bit of unease. If anything, I felt comforted knowing we were not alone in Aunt Margaret’s house. To be perfectly honest, while I was holed up in a bedroom all day and all night, I felt a little ghost-like myself.

I want to be clear that I’m talking about feelings, feelings cannonballed by grief and compromised by fear of a virus I don’t understand. I make up stories. It’s literally all I do. With my failing eyesight and impaired hearing, I am becoming more unreliable as a narrator with each passing day.

That said, my acceptance of Aunt Margaret’s presence is not something I saw coming. It gives me a little bit of hope that if I find myself in a place that I’m not willing to leave, I can hold on. Whether it’s my body, my home, or even certain beliefs about this fucked up and confusing world we all inhabit, it’s nice to imagine the possibility of prevailing over the rules that govern logic, reason, and even reality.

Let the hauntings begin….

Corporate Rock Sucks Is Coming

It’s true: somehow Corporate Rock Sucks: The Rise & Fall of SST Records comes out in three months.

Jim Ruland @JimVermin

Gen X weirdos unite: Corporate Rock Sucks: The Rise & Fall of SST Records comes out in three months.

When I was in the Navy, three months felt like an eternity. Now it’s a couple of haircuts and boom ninety days have disappeared. Where did they go? No one knows and no one will tell you because time is both an elusive illusion and a mind-fucky boondoggle.

However, you can combat the constraints of time by pre-ordering Corporate Rock Sucks right now.

In case you missed it, that button is an actual link to an actual book that you can buy with actual money. Once you do, you can be certain the book will arrive on your doorstep without having to lift a finger. Pretty amazing when you think about it. But don’t think, do.

Not only will you be gifting your future self a book, but you get a bit of certainty in an uncertain world and what better gift is that?

I don’t think there is one.

That’s enough with the buttons. As you can tell, I’m terrifically excited about the book and hope you are too.

If you feel moved to preorder Corporate Rock Sucks, tweet (or retweet) about the book, add it to your Goodreads account, request it from your local library, or simply share this newsletter with a friend, I’d be immensely grateful.

I’m keeping this week’s edition brief because I’m still (technically) recovering and playing catch-up on all the stuff I missed while I was in quarantine.

I returned home to a month of mail, including a couple packages with new additions to my SST collection, including a cassette of one of my favorite SST releases and a compilation on vinyl, which I’ll showcase in an installment of PssSST! next week.

I’m also working on my annual list of the raddest records of the year. I didn’t have access to my records while I was abroad so it had to wait but it will be worth it.

I also have an actual, in-person book event to share with you and you’re all invited!

So until next week, stay safe, be well, and don’t be afraid of no ghosts…