When and how boredom sets in is still a bit of a hermetical mystery, but by god the weeks before football truly dies, (think the Owl) I find usually no later than Wednesday during the bye week the lethargy really starts to soil the mind and degrade the spirit. You can feel it. It’s palpable. It’s like blood on your skin, death in your mouth.

Where can I get a charge, a kick of delirium, a real place shifter?

A substantive floating head if you will?

Oh please do take a moment and regale us all with your first time experience, you know, the first time you (wink wink) saw one.

You, yes you, we both know and understand, just say it. Go on don’t be afraid, this is a safe place, I promise, said the crying clown.

The internet assures me that cemeteries are known to be haunted by ghosts.

Frequent sightings, multiple cold spots and the sound of laughter through the trees await the brave explorer. No?

Perhaps you were hoping I would chase these silly things myself?

Fine. I’ll do it.

The hand of the afterlife has had me on the run since I was a kid. Once seen, hard to unsee.

My young eyes had no idea what they were seeing, safe to say I’ve been seeing ghosts ever since.

ALL THE KIDS ARE JUST DYING TO GET IN

Notice any common threads as I did?

There are no alive ghosts?

None!

That damn death thing may have something to do with this whole falderal after all.

Curse you death, curse you I say!

So it was decided that I must go and shoot photos of famous people’s last hitching posts. By who is an unnecessary tale of nonsensical gibberish.

THE FIRST GHOUL SHOOTING

:Disclaimer:

This has played out over more than 15 years so some of these photos may quite possibly have come across your desks in the past. Please rest assured that my drunken fat ass took each and every one, thank you.

Let’s start with the photo above. Yes, Hank Chinaski’s resting place. Located in recently “sliding into the ocean” Rancho Skinny Penis’s Green Hills Cemetery.

Where one can feel most assured that horrors of the untold will fall forth from the skies. The whiskey soaked afterlife placement of a known fiend chaser will most certainly bring visions of the eternity that truly matter. All you have to do is stand on the sacred ground and mumble drunkenly, eyes cast to the heavens.

You will be shown the way that awaits us, one and all.

So I went there seeing how it’s only about 5 miles from my front door which was all the inspiration needed, well I was out of beer so I figured what the heck.

Beautiful rolling hills await the fascinated. Of course do not be a dick. This is a cemetery which is sacred ground to some weirdos that I don’t get but I am not judging shit.

But did I see a ghost? A single rose and one last toast for a lost hero was all that was seen that afternoon.

Sadly no wandering spirits.

DAMN SATAN YOU LOOK LIKE A PUSSY, JUST LAYING THERE GETTING YOUR ASS KICKED.

Next up. The “American Horror Story” House

Knock it off there are 2 different ones, jeez, get off me.

Was driving Uber to make a few extra quid when this happenstance occurred, well I did have to drive (of course knew where it was and just dying to get close enough to get a shot of the fear) over there and then park.

Grabbed my camera and bang bitches, this shit just happened!

Oh damn bro is that a ghost right there?

Not sure, strange day but just as I was about to really open up to the beyond, a bus load of tourists pulled up shouting what I am certain we’re really bad swears so I got up off the vibrating ground and left.

Any other screaming harpies?

Maybe, it was a weird place. Not expecting anyone to be able (for one thing I am a shitty writer) to conceive of what the ground felt like, but it slid.

Next, lets go to where all the cool kids like to go, a cemetery where it’s OK to dance.

Taj/Lar Jan-Feb 2025