Hello again! It’s strange, but since I got everything out of my head and into a book, my brain seems to be able to play around with other ideas and memories, and I woke up today thinking about a few of these.
I often hint at encounters with certain unknowns, and I call these “Entities” because that seems to be the preferred term. For example, Above Top Secret agencies do not like the common abbreviation ET, so they use the acronym EBE for ‘Extraterrestrial Biological Entities.’ I identify as x’NTT – non-entity. Up until recently, I have endeavored to leave as little a footprint as possible on this world. Forever endeavor, as they say.
But there are so many variations that can fall under this umbrella term, “Entity.” An entity is any conscious or self-aware being, really. And I am not even sure it only applies to that definition as how many of these entities are truly conscious as we understand the term? The small Grey EBEs are really more of programmable biological androids, so just how conscious are they? Is AI a consciousness as defined in the classical sense? I would argue that it is, but this is not an ethical debate. I just want to write some thoughts I had when I woke up this morning and how they got me thinking about this term “Entity.”
I awoke with a voice in my head saying, “If you see the Onion-Man, you had better run, young man.” I have heard this rhyme before. As with all language, it was accompanied by an image of what I call “The Onion-Man.” It’s a vague memory from childhood, and it is a scary memory. I had always thought this “Onion-Man” entity was a conscious, self-aware, and cruel being, but now, looking at the accompanying image in my mind, I wonder: What was I really seeing? I am no artist, but here is a rendition of the image I see when I hear that sentence:
As crude as my artistic skills are, you can probably see why he/it conjures up the word “onion” – the face looks like sliced onions, and the head looks like an onion bulb itself. There was, if my memory can be trusted (and I am not so sure with memories like this), even a little nub in the center where a nose would be. And there was a lot of crying and burning eyes involved. To this day, I sometimes feel like my tears themselves are made of ammonia. They often burn.
In the memory, there are other children with me, and we are not happy. This face is a sort of rabboni(?), or ‘teacher.’ The thing is, it was an emotions-based teacher, if that makes any sense. It tied lessons to emotions, but they were always negative emotions. Lots of fear-turned-anger, and anger that we were instructed to suppress. To be truthful, all of my life I have been very timid. I am not a small guy, but I have always been very passive and even fearful. But holy shit, it takes very little to get me angry and when I get angry I go from zero to rage. And it’s usually over stupid things, like stubbing my toe. I once burned a coffee table because I stubbed my toe on it. I stabbed a kitchen cupboard to splinters with a butcher knife because I banged my head on it. I have destroyed a lot of things just because they pissed me off in some way or another. If I had money, I would go through electronic devices like cell phones and laptops on a weekly basis. I have come so close to smashing these items and have had to reign in my rage by saying “You’ll only have to buy a new one!” and that… GOD, that pisses me off. I have lost it on more than one occasion and destroyed mice and keyboards, but laptops… you can’t smash ANY part of them. Or cell phones. Frustrating.
I have been carefully restrained to never release this sort of anger on living beings. In my entire life, I have only been in two physical altercations. The first was out of an obligation to protect my sister. When we were children, there were a couple of bullies that lived down the hill from us. She and her friend were riding their bikes, and I was riding my skateboard down the hill (I was too afraid to ride it standing like a big boy, so I sat on it to ride it down the steep hill). The bullies were chasing my sister on their bikes, so I threw a rock at one and hit him in the middle of his back. They left my sister and her friend and turned around to come after me. I stood my ground, and when the first one got close enough, I pushed him off his bike. Oh, the look of surprised anger in his face! Before he could move, I swung a tiny fist and smacked it across his face. His head swung sideways and then turned back to me, now red with rage.
I learned a lesson that day: Keep swinging. I should have. Instead, I just stood there like a dope and awaited his retort, which was a much bigger fist right across my nose. The blood came fast, and I ran home screaming. I remember even though I had lost the fight, my father was so proud of me for standing up for myself. I think he had started to fear that I was going to always be a weakling.
The second fight I got in was overseas. I was out drinking with some friends, and some guy walked into the bar and they told me how this particular guy had been an asshole to them and had been an even bigger asshole to a girl we all knew. I absorbed the stories since the guy was not paying any attention to us and was just going about his own night out. Later, however, I saw him again at another bar, and by now I was well in my cups and he was being a loud jerk screaming at the Korean bartender. She was also a friend of mine (as a drinker back in those days, my philosophy was ‘Always be kind to the bartenders!’) I stepped up to him and elbowed him out of the way to order myself another drink. He growled, “Excuse you!” at me, and I shot back “Fuck you, jackass.” Well, things escalated, and I invited him to join me outside to settle the matter. We walked down the stairs and into the alley beside the establishment. He stood there and said, “Alright, shit-head, come at me!” and I said, “No, I can’t throw the first punch in a fight. You’ll have to start us o—” BAP! Sucker whalloped me on the side of the head. I didn’t feel a thing. He saw that I was unphased by his opening volley, and I swear to God the guy actually said to me, hands raised, “Please don’t kick my ass!”
And for some reason, at that, all of the anger left me. I just stood there feeling stupid. Why were we doing this? So I said to him, “Why are we even doing this? Let’s just go back upstairs and drink.” He agreed, and he even bought the round. Never had another problem with him or anyone else since.
What’s the point of all of this machismo story-telling? Just to try to prove that, despite the bubbling cauldron of anger and rage that exists in me, that causes me to explode when things aren’t going my way, it never seems to affect my interactions with other people. I have known fellas that draw that sort of person-to-person conflict to themselves. These are the sort of guys for whom a night out is not complete without some fisticuffs. I knew one fella who was infamous for his combative personality, and soon no one we knew would hang out with him because of his violent temper and tendency to get into fights. This was also in Korea, where as a foreigner, if you get in a fight with a Korean citizen, it doesn’t matter who started it — the foreigner gets deported. So this dude was a liability.
I was usually able to talk him down, however, so I would still hang out with him sometimes. Still, whenever we went out, he would start something. We’d just be sitting in a galbi restaurant, eating and drinking soju, having a good time, and suddenly a dark look would come across his face as he stared across the room. He would say something like, “Dude, that m*therf*ker over there just keeps staring at us… He looks over here again and…” and I would have to tell him to just enjoy his food and accept that as a big foreigner he was going to get some stares sometimes. It happens. There isn’t necessarily any malevolence to it. He once explained to me that it wasn’t his fault, that people only ever saw him after someone else had started the trouble. Like everyone else, I just figured yeah, right. But one day we were out on a Sunday afternoon, day-drinking in a bar that I frequented. He was there to meet some of his hockey team buddies, and I was chatting with the bartender, who was a friend. Suddenly, some guy walked past and just slapped my angry friend in the ribs and my friend got up to go talk with him. It was one of his hockey buddies, I thought, until a moment later I heard my friend’s voice get loud: “Seriously, dude, you want to start some shit? Let’s go outside and I’ll fuck you up!” And the other guy was apologizing, saying, “Look, I don’t know why I hit you. I just, I don’t know, I figured you had a sense of humor. I didn’t know you’d be an asshole about it!” The bartender and I broke off our chat to go and separate the two, and I have to say, my friend was in the right — whatever his intentions may have been, the other guy had struck first.
As for myself, I have been the butt of some passive aggression, but I never let it set me off. I take it in stride and keep an open mind. Did it hurt? Was I injured? No? Then why should I care? I know who I am and I have nothing to prove to any drunken idiot. I have better things upon which to expend my energies. But a piece of firewood lands on my stockinged foot and hurts my toe? That thing is getting chopped up with a hatchet and is the first piece to burn. Perhaps I just find it easier to release my pent-up rage on inanimate objects that we have always been taught have no feelings? No nervous system? Go ahead and torture it. I have had guys step to me and try to argue me into a fight, but I usually succeed in arguing my way out of it. And I am confident in my ability to handle myself. I am not a small person, as I have said. I believe I could do some damage if absolutely necessary. But I always remember the advice my father once gave me: “Never start a fight, but always finish one.”
Still, I have this violent temper in me, and it does scare me sometimes. I have, thank God, never raised my hand to any girlfriend, and I have been a bad boyfriend. I have inspired some absolute screaming matches with relationship partners in my past. I’m not proud of it, and I admit fault in 99% of them. Chalk it up to my own insecurities. And I have been hit by girlfriends, but I have never hit. I even had one pop out from some bushes in front of my apartment and swing a thick stick at my head like she was swinging for the nosebleed seats, but we worked it out peacefully. And that, too, had been my fault. I was young and insecure and not comfortable with a committed relationship. I’ve worked through all of that, however. Years ago. I realized moving from relationship to relationship was destructive, and so I have been dedicatedly single for, geez, how long has it been now? Lessee, it’s 2021 now, and my last mockery of a relationship ended in 2012. I have taken the necessary time to work on myself. I’m ready, ladies! LOL
OK, but seriously, getting back to my point: Where did all of that inner rage come from? I have been thinking about it recently, and about relationships in general, as I went out last weekend for the first time in four months in the hopes of maybe meeting someone. I did meet two nice ladies — one on Saturday night and the other on Sunday — but nothing came of either. Turns out, one had a boyfriend and the other had a gay friend who took a shine to me and… well, let’s just say they both got confused as to my intentions and she didn’t want to ruin his chances. He had no chances, but starting out in a Sartre-esque love triangle is not a good way to go about kicking off a relationship. I’m not gay, I am just friendly and not homophobic in the least. Still, I ended up alone as usual. I’m fine with that, but I am still feeling this notion in my head that I am now supposed to have a partner in crime – a female counterpart. Christ, 9 years… why now? So I woke up and that was in my head: If you see the Onion-Man, you’d better run, young man!
And I am by no means a young man anymore. Never been married, either. What does THAT say about moi? Never even been engaged. If you haven’t had sex in over 7 years, is it true that that makes you a virgin again on a technicality? Someone get my lawyer on the phone — my sex lawyer!
As usual, you go to bed with questions, you usually wake up with answers. Mine was the Onion-Man. What was it? And was there someone there with me that I am supposed to remember? I get images of sitting on a padded floor in front of this rabboni, this teacher-thing, and there is a pretty young girl sitting next to me, but we aren’t interacting as we are both too busy shrieking our teary eyes out in terror as that thing… what was it doing? I think it was an electronic device, wires feeding down from the top and out to us, and it makes my fingertips feel like they are being jabbed with needles. And not just my fingertips. It was creating fear, anger, rage, and then programming us to bottle it and set it aside? Whatever it was, it was inanimate, and maybe that’s why I lash out in rage at inanimate objects but not at living beings.
But why fill children with rage, and then never provide any outlet? Why let them grow up with that inside them? What’s the purpose? I still have that rage, too, but as I have said, I have spent my life containing and controlling it. I adhere very strictly to my Two Rules* in order to be certain I will never lash out at any living being. I won’t even kill spiders. Spiders are not bad critters, anyway. Except maybe those Australian Funnel-Webs. Those scare the sh*t out of me.
I wanted to chat more about other entities I have encountered. There haven’t been many others as negative as the Onion-Man. In fact, in recent years, all of my interactions have been with very benevolent entities. Even when they are fucking with me, they do it in a very loving and friendly way, like older siblings might. And there is always a good lesson involved, but admittedly, I do not always pick up on it. I get the feeling that whatever I was dealing with as a child was a negative force, but somewhere along the line, I was taken in by benevolent forces, and they have been protecting me and teaching me ever since. I could have gone down a very dark road… but now I know what lies down that road, and I have been on the higher, brighter path ever since.
But right now I have to go out and meet some local friends for dinner and to tell them what a shitty, shitty weekend I had last week. They’ll cheer me up!
Always keep on the sunny side of the street.
*Rule 1: Never hurt any other being, either physically or emotionally. If you do (and you likely will), apologize. Rule 2: Never enforce your opinions, beliefs, or ideologies on anyone.
Dire Straits – Water Of Love  – YouTube Thank you for listening.