(5th Avenue and Central Park – Photos by Joe)

On my dry lips was a name, one I didn’t want to utter or even think. I was afraid I might expose the being who sat blissfully on a park bench two blocks up on the 5th Avenue perimeter of Central Park.

I scooted down the sidewalk adjacent to the park, knowing that all about were various creatures and *wisps of energy tweaked by his presence, but knew not who, what, or where he was. Earlier that evening Benny, “the cigar store Indian,” had sent me up 5th Avenue to meet him. He had wanted me to see the positive side of the supernatural and thought meeting this being would help me.

I hoped Benny, who was a blithe homeless man, didn’t wander far from where I had left him in Grand Army Plaza. I couldn’t wait to talk to him in secrecy about my conversation with the sagacious entity.

I was thankful because of late I’ve been at odds with the paranormal world. More closely, I’ve had some run-ins with demons in the Seaport neighborhood that have a history of human abduction.

Weeks ago Benny had me talk with a man who was once a famous magician. His name was Ehrie and he had tried to show me how “to disappear,” which would help me deal with the paranormal—especially the aforementioned demons. Mostly Ehrie had said that I needed to be quiet—mind, body, and soul. You can read about that whole episode, which began with: Nowhere To Run.

All I know is that I definitely need to learn how to slip out of sight the next time those demons set their propeller-like eyes on muah.

And I’ve always known that my problem is I’m loud in every veritable sense. To begin with, like many New Yorkers my conversational voice can go from a whisper to a scream inside a word. Also, if I’m not grooving to some tunes on my i-Pod while perambulating the city streets, I’m strutting with my head high and a gaze that “sees nothing yet catches everything.” People notice the strut, while preternatural beings sense I have an eye for them. Benny’s told me that even a miserable old ghost, shut away in closet, can be aware if someone out in the street has the gift of sight.

Given how I broadcast my every thought, as I waltzed down 5th that evening, I felt proud that my head was clear even if I couldn’t contain my excitement over the meeting. It was like someone thrummed strings at the very core of my being and the vibrations lofted soothingly through my flesh.

As far as who I had met, let’s just say he was a wizard—and he had not only changed my outlook on the paranormal, but he changed the way I see the world. 

(The Plaza Hotel from Grand Army Plaza)

With Grand Army Plaza in sight, I started to feel safe enough away from the wizard so as to consider him. I gazed vacantly at the gilt though-badly-peeling, General Sherman statue–he’s on horseback with a woman in a toga waving a fern in front of him. The wizard’s lightly-accented voice played in my head, and his puff of white hair and shaggy dog face floated in my mind’s eye.

In retrospect, knowing I had pointed out some things that enlightened him was titillating. Because if there ever was a man close to “all-knowing,” it would be the wizard.

I spotted the slight figure of the cigar store Indian still in the plaza. He stood on the fringe of a crowd that watched a break dancer work his leg-flung magic.

Benny met me with a beaming, closed mouth smiled. “So, what did you see?” he said, his lips out of sync with his words.

“A wizard!” I cried with a laugh, too excited to consider there might be something out of the ordinary occurring.

(The Wizard)

“It’s safe. Tell me his name,” Benny said, his voice still out of sync, though now his tanned face had a look of concern.

Since he had sent me to see the wizard, I was surprised he didn’t know his name. When I spoke it, a black shadow moved over Benny’s face and he flagged his hands. “Where?” he asked, though I couldn’t hear the rest of what he said.

I was hesitant with a reply until Benny gave a muttered cry. ”Seventy-third,” I blurted. “He was on a bench, just like you said!”

The cigar store Indian’s brow rose and mouth opened in shock. It was only then did I begin to understand that it had probably been a demon that had asked me the questions in Benny’s voice. But it was too late.

Suddenly, all around us black shadows peeled up from the ground and sailed up 5th Avenue. They quickly came together, only to vanish into a murky, tall skinny being that clambered over the Central Park wall. A moment later, as if information was relayed from the shadows, the tall skinny being fled uptown, zipping passed the tourist, whom for whatever reason hardly noticed it.

“We have to warn Einstein!” Benny said, his voice finally in accordance with his lips. He started to run up the street with notable speed and agility.

It was all I could do to keep up with the old homeless man. I could hardly consider the danger I had heaped upon the ghost of one of the greatest men to ever walk the face of the Earth; who at that very moment was still at work in the afterlife, pondering the Theory of Everything . . .

—

Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Thirty-One – August 2010

Paranormal Embrace

To See The Wizard

(More coming soon . . .) 

* See: We Are Knowing

Here are my STORIES and NYC PHOTOS

I’m working on the cover for one of my books. This one is called SURFACE IN HEAVEN. The genre that it falls in is somewhere between space opera and speculative fiction. The above is my first try at putting a cover together.

So far I’ve sold more than fifty copies of my e-Book, THE VIRGIN KING on Amazon.com.

I can’t wait to put out SiH. I hope to do that in a few weeks. Maybe I can get some of my friends to read it first.

Here are my STORIES and NYC PHOTOS

(Black Gold live in De Semaine)

This is another great band that I first heard on 91.5 FM KEXP.

I’d also like to point out again that this blog is going through some changes. You can click here to read about them: ParanormalNYC.com meets BaldPunk.com.

(Black Gold Studio Version)

(Foals – uncredited photo)

Here are my STORIES and NYC PHOTOS

(A new planet in the solar system or a Kuiper belt object from BBC Science)

I grew up with nine planets and the idea that if an object has an orbit around the sun, and its own moon, then it’s a planet.

The above video explores UB313, aka planet Eris, which is the largest known dwarf planet in our Solar System. It’s bigger than Pluto, orbits the sun, and has a moon named Dysnomia.

At the very end of the video it cuts to Neil deGrasse Tyson from the Hayden Planetarium who says, “If they are made of *ice and they are out there beyond Neptune, they are Kuiper belt objects, get over it!”

Hmmm . . .

It’s clear I haven’t been reading Modern Astronomer of late. So I’m off to read up on these Kuiper belt objects. Click here to join me—> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuiper_belt

*Pluto is 50-70% ice.

Eris is mostly ice and rock.

(Largest known Kuiper belt objects)

Here are my STORIES and NYC PHOTOS

(Albert Einstein explains his famous equation)

I love Einstein. Read my other posts about him.

The Einstein Equation!

The Poetry of Einstein

Einstein’s totally hardcore!

(Albert Einstein)

The below explanation of E=mc² is more in depth. It’s by Rael at Rael.org. Check out his site. It looks like he’s got a nice racket going. It seems he was abducted in 1973 and had a religious experience. Now he’s got his own religion. Cool.

 (Another explantion from Rael)

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS

(The Ego And The ID by Franz West - Photos by Joe)

“Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.”        

Albert Einstein 

The door to the paranormal is wedged open upon my foot. To turn away would be to lose the foot . . .

—

Days ago on the cobbled corner of South Street and Peck Slip by The Paris Café, my friends and had I watched in horror as a soldier that is said to have been abducted by demons during the Battle of Brooklyn was annihilated by one of his captors. I wrote about the killing in the conclusion of the previous episode titled: See The Light. 

Afraid of a fate similar to the soldier’s, last Thursday afternoon I went in search of Benny, “the cigar store Indian.” I wanted to let him know that I was open to his guidance.

Benny’s an old homeless man with a beguiling smile and clairvoyant powers. A believer in reincarnation, his own to be sure, he says that he was one of the Lenni Lenape Indians on the shore the day that Henry Hudson sailed into what would become NY Harbor.

I’ve sensed for some time that the cigar store Indiansees me as his protégé, and that he would like for me to more readily accept the paranormal.

Benny may sound like an interesting sort, but I have to be in the mood for him. He regularly pops up as I make my way home from my miserable demolition job. Where after a day spent in a cloud of dust and debris, my ears ringing with Spanish music and head filled with disparaging thoughts about my lack-luster future, I find no reprieve in his stories or observations. I want only for cold beer, not for someone to point out paranormal crap that will haunt me in and out of sleep.

On Thursday I had ambled through Benny’s stomping grounds—the Seaport, Union Square, and Central Park. It was hot and my mind was rife with fleeting thoughts. On my way I slugged down some cold beers at the deli’s where I found them on ice.

It was well after 7 pm when I spotted Benny by the corner of Central Park South(W59th St.) and 5^th Avenue. That corner is the gateway to Central Park called Grand Army Plaza–not to be confused with the G.A.P. in Brooklyn.

To my left was the Plaza Hotel and behind me on the right was FAO Schwartz toy store that everyone knows from the movie Big with Tom Hanks.

It was humid as heck and Benny wore a long coat. It was so homeless of him.

(Grand Army Plaza, Central Park)

Though the cigar store Indian didn’t immediately look in my direction, I knew he had become aware of my presence. I waited until he passed a full garbage can with a sideways glance, and got a safe distance before I approached him. Benny loves to pick through trash, and I didn’t want him to be sidetracked while we talked.

Benny remained silent for a moment, his eyes drifted to various points in the lush green park. His tanned face and head was covered in two-day stubble. My eyes popped open at the sight of his bushy black eyebrows. That was a feature I surely hadn’t noticed in the past.

I took a closer look at him. His eyes were hazel, though in the past they’ve also been other brown and blue. Benny’s not your average indigent. . . To begin with he’s always kept himself fairly clean. Even now, the coat and slacks he wore were both faded though not tattered. I thought he must have just plucked them out of a good will bin. Though of course Benny has an air of mystery. It makes it hard to fully trust him.

“You smell like Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup,” I said with a laugh, which isn’t so bad for a homeless man. “Take off the jacket, it’s freaking hot as hell!”

He laughed with a twinkle in his eye that lighted generously upon me. I focused on the wide space between his yellow teeth. The bastard was happy! He effervesced. It made his smile more than palatable.

“You know about what happened the other day to us at the Seaport,” I said, and watched him blink in the affirmative. Benny has his ways of knowing about certain things and I didn’t question him. For a time he stared at me with a daft, closed-mouth smile. It made it even harder to admit a need for his tutelage. “I’ve finally concluded that there is no where for me to turn to now. There is no escape from the supernatural,” I said matter-of-factly, though the next few words came out in a guttural crackle. “It’s time I learn.”

Benny’s clear, confident gaze fixed deep into Central Park. “Turn to the good,” he said, wistfully as his eyes brightened. ”You need to know there is more good out there than evil. The good can show you paranormal wonder. It can protect you.”

I said nothing, intrigued by Benny’s calm, cool silence. In the future, I needed to learn how to curb my emotions and emulate him. Such control would surely ease the personal, professional, and paranormal aspects of my life.

The cigar store Indian lifted his compact brown hand in the direction of 5^thAvenue that ran for *2.5 miles between the park and some of the most luxurious and stately buildings to be found in NYC, if not the entire world. “Up that way is someone truly special. Go and see if he will speak with you.” Benny lifted his chin. “He is sitting on one of the benches aside the park wall.”

About ten or so blocks up I saw a disturbance in the air where the treetops hung over the street. It looked like a gray cloud infested with bugs. I guessed it was where the man sat.

(General William Tecumseh Sherman Statue at Grand Army Plaza)

“Open your heart and he will embrace you,” Benny said, his cadence and even choice of words unlike any of the other times we had spoken in the past. “Let your emotions rule the moment, and the evil that tracks him will color your aura; and he will not show his face.”

“There’s no easy way, only calm,” I said softly.

“Evil clings to thoughts, good and bad,” Benny said in a low voice, as if he was trying like a hypnotist to get into my head. ”Close your mind and open your heart. Good finds the heart.”

I stared through what seemed a maze of trees lining the 5th Avenue side of the park and thought how in all the time that I’ve known the cigar store Indian–for some strange reason the duration of which escapes me even now–it seemed like the first time he had been somber and serious with me. It must have reflected my acquiescence, which was all he would get from me. (I never asked Benny to be my teacher, though he was now.)

I started off up 5th Avenue, wishing I had another cold one.

—  

Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Thirty-One – August 2010

Paranormal Embrace

To See The Wizard

(More coming soon . . .) 

*Central Park perimeter = 6 miles (2.5 miles up and down the avenues and .5 miles across Central Park North and South) – Source www.CentralPark.com

Here are my STORIES and NYC PHOTOS

(Snapshot of TheShadowlands.net’s Haunted NY page)

TheShadowlands.net has a load of information and resources for people interested in the paranormal. Online since 1994, they have pages that document haunted places throughout the world. They also have ghost stories, many great articles, photos, a forum, and a whole lot more.

<< Click here to visit their Haunted NY page — > Theshadowlands.net  >>

Here are my STORIES and NYC PHOTOS

(St. Andrew’s Cemetery in Richmondtown, Staten Island – Photo by Joe)

Lately I’ve been thinking about making some changes in the direction of Bald Punk. The stories section will continue unabated. The Photos and Everything Else pages will change somewhat. I think I’m going to try and focus more on paranormal NYC.

Today I registered the domain ParanormalNYC.com. It redirects to BaldPunk.com.

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS

 (Snapshot of WalkingOffTheBigApple.com)

On the site ”Walking Off The Big Apple,” blogger Teri Tynes has created a rather interesting strolling guide through NYC. Her walks tend to be literature, music, arts, and cinema focused with lots of ruminations on her subject matter.

What’s great about her guide is that many of the walks will appeal to lifelong New Yorkers as well as tourists. I highly recommend her blog.

 << Click here to visit WalkingOffTheBigApple.com>> 

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS

(South Street – Photos by Joe)

The five of us all gazed at a blue neon glow that was brightest by the Fish Market Restaurant on South Street. I shuffled my feet, blinked, squinted, and pretended to look real hard. Don’t know if the shuffling of the feet worked, but I did my best not to let on that I clearly saw what we all were searching for.

The others, who included my lady friend(LF), the pizza and Chinese delivery guys(aka num and nuts), along with a white interloper from Queens named Terrence, all knew they were missing “the bigger picture.”

The blue was representative. I saw “it,” but held my cards close.

Last month I had seen a similar glow over a late evening crowd holding placards, set behind police barricades by the Columbus Circle entrance to Central Park. It had seemed more like a blue gossamer upon their head and shoulders–or a touch of twilight that remained. Of the times before I had seen a similar glow, I had thought it nothing more than spirit matter, which I use to describe various unexplainable, airborne disturbances.

That night I had looked about for another trace of the blue as I headed up Central Park West. At my right was the stone wall that surrounds the rectangular park, and beginning on the corner across the street–for as far as the eye could see, were stately apartments, hotels, museums, and houses of worship. They create one of NYC’s many amazing skylines, which can be a visual treat from one of the park’s winding paths. Directly across the street, out front the comparatively-new, Trump high-rise hotel, I had spotted a point of blue as it glided toward the large globe that sits in the middle of Columbus Circle. All of a sudden it had looked as if the point closed, re-opened, and rotated. I dropped my gaze to see my shirt and arms were illuminated by the same blue that fell upon the crowd.

(Columbus Circle)

Now, if I turned, in front of the old Fulton Fish Market building that sits on the water on South Street was a similar, hovering point of blue. It was like a floating eye, a probe, possibly–lighting upon the Fish Market Restaurant across the street. At various times the others had glanced back. I thought the only reason they didn’t see it was because it was tiny. After all, I had missed it plenty of other times throughout the city.

I nudged my LF’s sweaty arm, and whispered for her to turn around. She abruptly looked up at me. So did the others. I shook my head, not wanting to show them. Yet num and nuts, who both looked super cool in cottons with sweaty, slicked-back hair, started to grow jumpy and make the odd whimper.

I knew they were on to something. Those two are good at picking up shit, annoyingly good. But this is one secret I didn’t want to unravel just yet, especially since we were plagued by the interloper; Terrence, the big white guy that didn’t sweat. If I showed him, in the future he might think of me as his personal guide to the supernatural, and I didn’t want that.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, and started toward Fulton St., which is the main thoroughfare in the historic seaport area.

“Ner, nu, ner, na,” num and nuts uttered to each other; so much for their summer-chic, MTV beach house “façade!” Those two are whacked. I know that–and so do my readers.

“What is it?” my LF asked, her long black hair lying damply on her shoulders.

Num and nuts limply angled their arms a few doors to the left of the Fish Market Restaurant.

My anticipation rose and I shuffled my feet nervously. Terrence’s eyes opened wide and he smiled with hound dog cheeks.

Sure enough, where they had pointed, a steel gate over the front of one of the buildings opened a moment later. It was old and rickety, the kind that a person had to raise by pulling chains, yet it slipped up the painted steel rail without a sound or person in sight. Behind it a door opened and a man slinked out onto the sidewalk. Dark blue lines outlined his frame.

Head ducked into the open V-neck of a coat, the person swiftly headed uptown toward Peck Slip. Terrence jumped out between the traffic and crossed the street to the sound of horns. The man’s head shot up and his back straightened.

(Max Beckley)

I followed with a hop in my step, having to also skirt between passing cars, one being a cop car. I thudded ahead of Terrence and up behind the man. Along my bare arms appeared a dark outline of blue. I turned, and with a gnarl, yelled at Terrence. “If you know what’s good, stay the f— back!” He slowed. “There’s a line here that you don’t want to cross,” I said, threateningly.

Finally, Terrence sighed and came to a stop, his fleshy breasts jiggling for a second.

“Hey you, you, you!” I cried, watching the man’s steps grow hesitant as I caught up with him.

His face was bright pink as if it had been scrubbed, and his short hair was dark, wavy, and clumped with jell. The light in his eyes screamed of innocence. I recognized his face! It was the Revolutionary War soldier, Max Beckley!

“They woke me for you! They woke me for you,” Max said, his eyes alight with terror. Fear seemed to leap off his person. “I’m to give you a message.”

I stepped back in horror, my eyes on the clumps of jell in his hair. What was it from? His birth . . . It took all my power to utter, “What is it?”

“You amuse them,” he said with a strained laugh as if someone forced him. He angled his face and gave an eerie, detached smile. Then he slapped his cheek. Blood oozed from his left eye. “This is what we can do,” Max said, though the voice was sweet and calm; definitely not his own. “Wake Max and kill Max. Others, too, Joe.”

They know my name.

From the corner of my eye I spotted my friends encroaching. I windmilled one arm and cried, “Get back!”

Max fell to his knees and his right leg snapped sideways at the calf. Yet he only moaned in pain, though such was the sound from his lips that it was like a silent scream. More bones snapped and my mind whirled in fear and disgust.

I wanted to run, but searched “them out.” I knew they were watching; I knew they were close.

Diagonally across the street in front of the old Fulton Fish Market building–mere feet from by the blue point of light–was an unusually dark, sleek space. I spotted a wide-bodied creature and saw vague motions flutter about it. I turned back to Max who was writhing in pain. His body slipped away and squished down into the curbside opening for the sewer. To fit, his flesh ripped away and more of his bones cracked.

There came shrieks and cries from my friends. My LF loudly sobbed. It took a minute or two to semi-recover after Max was gone. I looked about and saw the blue light along with the creature had also vanished.

—

Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Thirty – June/July 2010

Milk Toast

Keeping Secrets

See The Light

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS