Saturday, June 29, 2013

Google Ghosts - A Cyber Psychic Serial by Tony Baksa - Episode 5 - The The

EPISODE 5 - The The

                                      



Artie was running as fast as was possible. The shape - the thing - the The - was coming after him but strangely seemed to move ever so slowly yet was always on Artie's heels. It was like those slow moving zombies in bad Sci-Fi's that lumber along but always seem to catch their fast moving prey. A monster cliché to be sure but here it was presenting itself to Artie. So all he could do was run until he could no longer run. Which meant the The would get him. Artie reasoned, why continue running. What did it matter. He would lose. The The would win. Bravely, Artie stopped running. He just stopped.

He slowly turned around trembling. Where was the The. A form began to loom out of the greyness. It grew larger and larger. It took shape. It was very black. The shape was like a giant shadow. The shadow of a person - arms, legs, head - the whole package. Artie couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. The face was not discernible nor were any other bodily features. The The was one humongous shadow - a shadow that seemed to vibrate as it loomed.

The The just hovered doing nothing. Artie said nothing. The only sound was the void and the trembling from Artie and the vibrating from The The.
                                          


Artie could only wonder what happens now. Edward G. Robinson's line from that old movie strangely ran through his mind "Is this the end of Rico?"  What happened next was, to make an understatement, unexpected.

The The exploded in laughter. It was like rolling thunder. "Is this the end of Rico" it bellowed. It kept repeating the line and laughing its stormy laugh.  "Is this the end of Rico? I love it! I love it!"

Artie was astounded and amazed. "I have a monster who is a fan of Trivial Pursuit. " he thought.

"Trivial Pursuit?" announced the The and he was off on another round of thunderous mirth.

"He's reading my mind just like Gregory" thought Artie.

"No not just like Gregory!" the The screamed. His laughter ceased on a dime with this statement.

Artie thought he must have somehow offended this entity. But he didn't know how.

"Gregory cannot read minds at will. I CAN" angrily explained the The.

"Are you going to kill me?" Artie boldly asked.

"I don't know." the The stated.

"Well, when will you know." Artie really didn't want an answer.

"You don't really want me to answer that. Do you?" the The teased.

"It is not fun talking to someone who not only knows what you are thinking but knows what you are feeling." complained Artie.

The The stopped vibrating. He stood tall and flat against the grey void.

Artie waited.

The The spoke, "You're right. I'll turn it off. I'll not listen in. But on one condition. You must stop thinking of me as the The!"

"Yes, absolutely." said Artie. "Absolutely!"

"And stop trembling. I SAID STOP TREMBLING!"

"Right. Uh huh". thought Artie. "I'll try." he said.

"Good because there is no reason for you to fear me. I know your dilemma. I want to help you." the The said trying to sound less intimidating. He was no fool. He was fully aware of his effect on other beings. It was his cross to bear.

"Who are you?" said a less trembling Artie.

"Well, I'm not the The for one thing."

"I'm sorry" - Artie meekly said.

The The softened even more as he explained, "To be completely forthright, I don't know how to say this - well, okay - here it is - I do not know who I am. I do not know what I am. I just know that I am."

Artie was speechless and subsequently so was the The. A long time passed before a word was spoken. It was our Artie who broke the silence, "What shall I call you?"

The The hesitated then said, " I - um - call myself - well, you see, I - um - I call myself Bob."

Now it was Artie's turn to laugh and laugh he did practically rolling on the grey ground. Oddly enough, the The, or , that is, Bob did not react violently. He accepted the silliness of it all. Bob was not a stupid being. Not at all.

"Oh, I am so sorry. Please - I am sorry." Artie pleaded.

"Its quite alright. Just let this be your last laugh at my expense. Understood?" Bob knew he had the upper hand and liked extending the fear factor.

"Understood - uh - Bob."

"Now, you want to go home, right? And you want to see your parents, sister and some friends, right?

"Yes - yes I do."

"Well, you can't have everything. What is your preference - home or see the friends and family? You cannot have both."

"Why not?"

"I can't do both for you. So which is it?"

"But why can't you do both. If you can do whichever I choose, then you can do both. You just won't do both. Why?

"Watch it" Bob warned. "You have no idea what you are saying. So be careful. My kindness has limits. Make your choice! " he demanded.

"I - I can't - I can't - I don' know what to do. I want to understand. I can't just go home and never know why this is happening to me."

"Then you have decided." Bob stated.
 
"I guess I have. I can't go home ignorant. And you will help me?

"Yes."

"Okay - okay, Bob. What now?

"Walk over to me. Keep walking. Do not stop. Just walk as if you mean to walk through me. Of course you won't but just do as I say." 
                                      


Artie's trembling returned. He timidly began his short stroll toward the giant shadow named Bob. Slowly he ventured into Bob's blackness. The grey disappeared from around Artie. All, now, was blackness. Bob began to vibrate as before. Artie trembling also as before was drawn into the shadow and vanished. He lost consciousness - well, not quite. It was like a remembered experience - like the time he had his tonsils out - the mask of ether placed over his face - the spinning black and white spiral - the feeling that he was floating  - and all the while not thinking

one

single

thought. 

                                 

Monday, June 24, 2013

A Belated Father's Day Tribute

This video was inspired by its soundtrack. It will surprise some of you. Enjoy and cherish.


 
 

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Google Ghosts - A Cyber Psychic Serial by Tony Baksa - Episode 4: The Shape of Things To Come

                                        


Episode 4 - The Shape of Things To Come

Artie thinks:
That was the last time I saw Clifford "alive" - at his funeral. So like Clifford to leave clean - assure, smile and thus reassure. What a good guy was Clifford. I wish he would appear now. I could use some of his reassurance. I don't know whether I'm frightened or angry. I just want to go home or get answers.

"What do you want to know, Artie"

It was Gregory reading Artie's mind again.

"Greg, where have you been? Why have you left me wandering in this nothingness? Why did you pull me in? Why..."

"Cool it, Artie. You'll know soon enough." Gregory teased.

"Not funny, Greg. This is not funny. Where are my parents? Where's Norma? I've yet to see Clifford. I so want to see him."

"Oh, your precious Clifford. You always liked him better than me." Greg accused.

"I liked him different than you - not better, Greg. He was like my brother. You were my best friend."

"I was?"

"Yes, Gregory. Now be my best friend and get me back home."

"You are home, Artie."

"You know what I mean." Artie raised his voice.

"Whoa there little buddy. All in good time"  

Artie thinks:
This does not sound like Gregory. He looks like Gregory...sort of doesn't look like Greg at the same time. He scares me. I'm scared - really scared. Oh gosh, is he reading my mind?

Artie waits but Gregory gives little indication that he is hearing his thoughts.

Silence - a long silence - Gregory's image hovering slightly above him seems to be wavering - wavering like an object submerged under shallow water.

                                                   


"Greg please don't leave. You are looking strange. What is going on. Please Greg. You are scaring the living daylights out of me."
 
Greg filled the void with bombastic laughter - joyless laughter - laughter that wasn't really laughter just sound - loud evil and sickening. Then he vanished and his laughter with him.

Artie felt faint - weak like he would vanish too - disappear - dissolve - become nothing. It was the worst sensation he had ever experienced and he wanted it to stop. But it persisted like a bad toothache - this feeling - a feeling of total helplessness - a loss of self control - a feeling that somehow he was at the mercy of some  unknown force some entity that would remain unknown - unknown until he was confronted with its reason - its explanation of what is happening - an explanation Artie wanted desperately to understand but was also afraid -  very afraid of knowing. Understanding would only bring him to his final thought - his last breath.
                                             

Artie was trembling as he weakly  roamed the grey void. He could barely stand and eventually dropped to his knees and then to a crawl. From this miserable crawl Artie was lifted by a gust of air - a whoosh that landed him on his backside, He sat on the floor or whatever it was - a firmness beneath him that allowed him to sit sprawled out with his back leaning on something - an invisible wall? Artie was almost breathless. Was he dying?

Artie limply surveyed the void and was about to give in - give up - close his eyes and just succumb. It was too much effort to hold his eyelids open. For the first time in his life, Artie wanted to die. He was thoroughly exhausted by his own ignorance.

As he lowered his lids ever so slowly, Artie sensed a presence. He peered out from his drooping lids and saw a black shape outlined by a silver light move slowly toward him with definite intent.
                                           


Artie wanted to get up and run but, of course, was rendered too weak to move. He thought he wanted to die. Was he ever wrong.............the shape drew nearer and Artie knew for certain - he was never more certain - he did not want to die...........

                                                   
 
 

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Episode 3 - Google Ghosts - A Psychic Cyber Serial by tony baksa

 On The Inside Looking Out - Episode 3

                        


"Gregory! Greg!!  Mom? Dad? .......Norma?  GREGORY!!!!!!!!!!!!

Artie thinks:
Where is everybody?  Where am I? I guess I'm inside the...computer? But there's nothing in here - just me and blackness - no not black - grey - its all grey and wide open or feels wide open but I see nothing but grey - air? (He looks out from inside the monitor) Oh my God! I see my apartment. There's my room, the spilt wine - my wine chest - oh, how I need some of that red. How do I get back? (He tries to reenter his room but cannot seem to penetrate the screen. He feels a sort of force stop him from getting out from wherever he is "in".) I'm freaking out!

                                                       


"Anybody! Everybody! Clifford? Where is....you all pulled me in....what do you want? Why have you..."

He thinks:
Oh, Jeez, I almost said why have you forsaken me. I did almost say that.

"Jesus Christ!!" - he catches himself and laughs. He suddenly stops laughing because he hears laughter surrounding him -  sounding like an audience - a laugh track if you will. Laughing laughing laughing. 

"Hey, who, where, what...? - Artie is lost for words. He is  not sure what question to ask and most importantly who is he asking?? Who? Where are all the people whose hands pulled him into this grey world. Why would his parents and sister be so cruel? Then there's Clifford and Gregory and dear Jill - like family to him.

He grew up with Clifford. Artie didn't have a brother. Clifford fulfilled that want that need. And they were like brothers. Even his parents excepted that as did Norma. Cliff and Artie were the same age. They drifted apart in their twenties but reconnected in their thirties and remained best buds until Clifford's death at 41 - 4 years ago. It was so hard watching Cliff deal with one dire health issue after the other. What was even harder was witnessing Clifford's pilot light dim. Cliff was a guy that devoured every moment of life. He tasted everything life had to offer. And much of the time he more than sampled the wild side of life. Artie, not a player to that degree, watched from the curb barely participating. Yet, they remained close - closer than ever really.

So when Clifford got sick -  seriously so with lupus first then cancer - pancreatic, Artie became Clifford's world depending on him for just about everything. Artie in his extraordinary way - ways - did not back away. Artie embraced his new role - his enhanced best friend role. After all, what are friends for? What are BEST friends for.

Clifford died after slipping into a haze of semi-consciousness. This haze lasted for a little over a week - Artie by his side much of the time. Oddly, Clifford chose to die on one of the rare times Artie wasn't there.

There wasn't a funeral - no wake  - no viewing of the body - keeping to all of Clifford's wishes. There, however, was a memorial. To Artie's surprise, the place was packed with many of Clifford's friends. So many and all strangers to Artie. A couple of ex-wife's attended - Clifford had married and divorced four times. A teenage son and teenage daughter were also in the mix. His parents were dead and no siblings. Just his Artie. Artie his soul brother.

The memorial was like a Broadway show. Those who spoke were so funny - like stand-up comics. The singers were great. Clive Davis would sign them up! People applauded after every "act". Only Artie wasn't funny. Only Artie didn't sing. Artie was asked to "host" by Jason, Clifford's son. Jason also encouraged Artie to say a few words whenever he was moved to do so. Moved he was eventually and everybody else at this memorial event were moved as well by Art's eloquence.    

Artie spoke last taking the stage in this mini auditorium not far from his apartment in Murray Hill.

                                           


Art speaks:

" Forty one is a ridiculous age to die. That is, for most people. Clifford was 41 going on 90. Although he looked like a 27 year old dude. He lived! For better or for worse - he lived - lived out loud. And I know that I am the better for it. Cliff was Peck's bad boy. You had to love him. You just had no choice. But best of all, Cliff had no problem returning that mandatory love. Which made us love him all the more. I could recount all his shenanigans to illustrate his wonderful badness. But I think not. We all know these stories and I am sure will cherish their richness. They are testament to a life fully lived. I will take comfort in the knowledge that Clifford didn't miss a beat. But I will still miss him so much. That damn lupus! That damn pancreatic cancer! That is what I am angry about. Clifford lived hard and died hard. The living was his choice. The dying was not. "

Artie was done. He began to step away from the podium but stopped. In the back of the room he saw Clifford. He did. HE SAW CLIFFORD beaming his most charming smile. It was Clifford not a transparent ghost Clifford but a flesh and fully attired Clifford looking so fantastic. He was applauding - only he - it was so loud - yet no one seemed to hear it- only Artie. Only Artie heard the clapping. Only Artie could see Clifford. And, somehow, Artie was certain it was Cliff not an hallucination brought on by grief. It was Clifford. Artie remained frozen on the stage as the "audience" assuming it was all over, began to file out. Our Artie still on stage like a garden statue - eyes barely blinking as he looks beyond the crowd filing out...........

Artie thinks:
It is Clifford.  Clifford.

                                                 

Saturday, June 8, 2013

Episode 2 - Google Ghosts - A Psychic Cyber Serial by tony baksa

"Artie! Aaaaaaarrrrrrrteeeeeeeeeeeeee!!  ART! Artie..................


                                           


 
 

He stirred to consciousness as his name became louder. Who was calling him. Where was he? He opened his eyes to a dark apartment except for the light spilling ever so brightly from his computer. An image was wavering on his monitor. Oh my God it was Gregory.

"Artie, how can you sleep at a time like this?"

Artie staggered over to his computer plopping down into his chair. "Gregory, is that you?"

"Hi Artie. Did you miss me?"

Artie noticed that it was still night time. Hadn't he slept? It should be morning. Why is it still dark outside? The clock was at 12:05am - 1205am?! But he fell asleep on the sofa and that was almost 4 in the morning. Had he slept through the entire day?

"I don't understand. Greg, how...what...um..."

"Don't worry, Art. You're okay. You had more wine than you are used to so you slept all day. Nothing to worry about."

It was as if Gregory could hear his thoughts.

"I can."

"What?"

"I can hear your thoughts"

"Oh, I don't like that. Please don't do that."

"OK Artie. Its not like I can always hear your thoughts - just sometimes when it helps the situation."

"What do you mean?"

"The ability to read your mind comes to me. I don't come to it. Do you see?"

"Yes, I guess so. Oh Gregory, I'm so happy to see you. We have unfinished business."

"Artie, that doesn't matter now. Its insignificant - really."

"Not to me - hey how did you - I mean, I didn't Google you - how are you ...here?"

"Art, pour yourself a glass of red. You accept things better with wine pulsing through your veins", Gregory laughed warmly.

Not one to balk at such a sensible suggestion, Artie removed the half filled wine bottle he uncorked last night from his nearby electric wine cellar. He uncharacteristically took a substantial swig straight from the bottle. Then he also uncharacteristically poured the wine into his unwashed glass from last night. Not like our Artie. Not like him at all.

"Better?" said Greg.

"Ah, yes...yes" purred Artie.

"I'll have some, please" Gregory said.

"Oh sorry, of course - let me get a gla....ha-ha - wish I could old buddy"

"You can. Pour me a glass - a clean glass"

Incredulous, Artie just sat still.

"I'm serious, Art. Simply pour the wine into the glass and hand it to me."

Artie scoffed.

"DO IT! NOW! bellowed Gregory.

Artie scurried to do as he was ordered. His trembling hand reached out to the computer monitor - wine dripping . Gregory's hand reached out from the monitor into the room meeting the glass of wine and Artie's extended shaking hand. 

                                         
                                         

And then what happened was right out of the Twilight Zone. Gregory grabbed Artie's wrist tightly pulling him in toward the monitor - pulling him - Gregory was trying to bring him inside - yes, inside the computer. Stupid , of course. He couldn't possibly do that. It is impossible.

The wine glass fell to the floor -  red wine spilling onto the white carpet. Artie resisted Gregory's pull. It was a natural reaction for him  to resist of course. But this was immediately horrifying to Artie. Gregory's act of aggression as improbable as it seemed was terrifying especially because it was improbable.

                                         


The tug of war was on. Then the strangest, scariest things began to happen. Artie heard voices not unlike a crowd at a baseball game - fans cheering - fans taunting - kill the umpire - kill the umpire - except what he heard was "grab him - don't let him go - get him - bring him in - get him.........."

                                        


The scariest thing of all was that the voices sounded like Mom and Dad and Norma among other familiar voices he couldn't quite place BUT definitely his sister and parents -  DEFINITELY.

It gets worse. Artie's parents and sister crowded onto the screen joining Greg -  thrusting  their hands out to assist Gregory into pulling Artie in.

And they succeeded.

                                       


                                     

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Vincent

I'm having too much fun with my movie maker. I suppose I will tire of it down the line. But for now, indulge me. Here's a gallery of Van Gogh set to my favorite rendering of what else - "Vincent" by Don McLean BUT not sung by McLean here. Turn up the volume and be mesmerized.

                                                                

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Ma

My mother had the strange privilege of having two birthdays. Its all got to do with paperwork snafus and such. This snafu was discovered late in my mother's life. The way we dealt with it was to celebrate her birthday twice - June 3rd and June 18. And so it ever was for our two birthday mom - actually ma, that is, Ma. We never called her mom - so white bread so "Father Knows Best". Our European roots dictated that mother was Ma - occasionally mother as I sailed through my sophisticated teenage years. Ma got a real kick out of my haughty "Oh, mother!" But mostly it was Ma - the warmer softer gentler sound that filled this tiny two letter word with a universe of human emotion. Here, now, is my mini musical picture gallery - my tribute to my Ma.