||[Feb. 14th, 2005|08:47 am]
Talking about documentaries....|
....I watched an episode of a series called Dead Famous. It featured a couple of flaxen haired young people- one of each gender- on a mission to track down celebrity ghosts.
Last night they were looking for John Lennon in and around New York. The management wouldn't let them into the Dakota so they paced the sidewalk out side, with the young man intoning "Come on, John, show me where you fell!" He got a twinge in his leg so maybe Lennon was responding. Then they went to Shea Stadium on the off chance that Lennon might choose to revisit the scene of a former triumph. The man waved a tape recorder around in the hope of capturing the Beatles concert off the aether but the results were unsatisfactory. Next stop was the Hotel Chelsea, where Lennon spent a few nights back in the early 70s. The young man was sitting on the bed when something invisible plumped down beside him, or so he said. Whoever it was, it wasn't Lennon.
Barrington Island is a famously haunted spot in New York State with a very photogenic Spanish colonial style ruined castle (dating from c.1900.) The Beatles once kept an aeroplane somewhere in the vicinity so this was an obvious place to look. There was much bumping around in the dark and the girl saw someone who shouldn't have been there standing on a woodland path. Could it have been Lennon?
Frankly disappointed by Barrington Island, our team convened a seance. They recruited an old woman with jet black hair who is in constant touch with Lennon and a Lennon look-alike who believes that Lennon jumps in and out of his body when he's performing. Success at last. The spirit of Lennon possessed the look-alike and he had a message for us all.
"Give life, don't take it!"
Next week we're going in search of Bette Davis. I'll bet she has something really pithy to say.
Bette Davis will probably tell people that she was more famous than John Lennon and a more interesting ghost at that.
"There are more things in Heaven and earth Horatio..."
I think Bette will give them very short shrift- as I suspect Lennon would have done too if he'd really come through.
"Give life, don't take it."
Shucks, that's the best he can do?
It does sort of sound like him, though.
I wish just one ghost would describe what it's like Over There.
(I had a haunted mattress once, I think: someone gave me an old mattress they were getting rid of--believe me, this was our Poorest Period!--and I swear I would feel something climbing over me and settling at the foot of the bed. More than once, I'd click on the light, because at the time I didn't have any pets.)
A haunted mattress- that's wonderful.
I've read descriptions of heavenly cities and such in Spiritualist literature.
I particularly remember a communication from the spirit of Oscar Wilde. He was residing in a low grade heavenly mansion where he spent his time sun-bathing and drinking hock. His speech was peppered with very feeble witticisms, which he said he only threw in to aid identification.
Surely Oscar would hang around just to talk.
But his witticisms were biting:
"A woman beomes like her mother--that's her tragedy.
A man doesn't--that's his."
Imagine that poor man in prison for two years at hard labor because he hung out with a younger man, Lord Somebody.
I try to think about flamboyant Oscar at "hard labor," and my mind boggles.
I suppose his fellow prisoners found him amusing...
Do you know the Ballad of Reading Gaol- the poem about and against capital punishment that he wrote in prison? It's really rather splendid....
He did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead,
The poor dead woman whom he loved,
And murdered in her bed.
He walked amongst the Trial Men
In a suit of shabby grey;
A cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.
I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every drifting cloud that went
With sails of silver by.
I walked, with other souls in pain,
Within another ring,
And was wondering if the man had done
A great or little thing,
When a voice behind me whispered low,
"That fellow's got to swing."........
happened to cross one of my RSS feeds today. thought you might be interested.
Many thanks. This is the fullest account of the truth about Rennes le Chateau that I've yet come across.