Saturday, May 9, 2020

Hidden Experience audiobook, now available—read by the author

now available
The audiobook is now available for Hidden Experience. The subtitle is A Memoir of Owls, Synchronicity and UFO Contact.

  audiobook linked HERE  

I read this book aloud, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I had to re-live so much doubt and denial. Reading my own words meant playing the role of actor, performing as myself, and quite literally re-living a profoundly challenging chapter of my life.

I am proud of this book, and my own courage for following through with such an introspective project.


Eight minutes and thirty seconds

And, long time reader Red Pill Junkie read the foreword, and he has a much better voice than I do! Listen int he player below.


15 minutes and 34 seconds

Also, I need to thank Suzanne Chancellor for her role as both editor and therapist. Without her listening ear, this book could never have happened.

  link to the book on Amazon 
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I have 25 coupons for a FREE version of the Hidden Experience audiobook. This offer requires a membership with Audible, and unfortunately, it only applies in the US. All I ask is to add a review on either the Audible site, or on Amazon.

Please get ahold of me thru my contact info in the right sidebar, or thru Facebook Messenger.

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Wednesday, April 15, 2020

floating dream and fear

Yesterday morning I woke with my heart pounding after a weirdly vivid dream.

There must have been more leading up to this, but the first thing I remember is being in the house where I grew up. Everything seemed to exactly match my old home, and that’s unusual, places in my dreamscapes are almost always distorted somehow.

It was nighttime and I was in the front foyer looking out a window facing the front yard and street. I could see that there was a bright light shining out of the garage and lighting up the driveway. This seemed odd and I wondered what was in the garage. The light made me really nervous. I needed to know what it was, and walked through the house so I could open the the door to the garage.

I got to the kitchen, turned on the light and realized I was floating. There was this familiar feeling, like I had done this many times and it was normal. I could concentrate in a way that kept myself up off the floor, and sort of willed myself toward the back hallway. I turned the corner and smoothly floated to the inside garage door.

I knew I had to open the door to see what was in the garage, but I was scared. I didn’t hesitate, I opened the door and the garage was empty. Then I woke up. I lay there in bed with an oppressive sense of dread, and it took a long time to shake the feeling.
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Thursday, April 9, 2020

thanking Mort Drucker


Yesterday I listened to an audio interview with Kim Krans, the artist and author that created THE WILD UNKNOWN tarot deck. It was a beautiful interview (on the Fierce Womxn Writing podcast) where she spoke about her work habits and creative insights. Near the end of the interview the host asked if Kim had a writing prompt, and she shared a simple motivational exercise. Here’s a transcript from the end the interview. Kim said: 
Write a thank you letter to an author or artist—let them just come to mind. Like, what would I do without this person? Where would I be if I hadn’t had those books when I was younger, or now? So let them come to mind, and don’t second guess it. So once you have an author in mind, don’t change it. Stick with the first one that comes to mind, and you are going to write them a one page letter, handwritten, not on the computer. You get a piece of paper and simply thank them for not giving up. You can talk about how their work has helped you, but mostly you’re thanking them for not giving up. And then you sign it with the date. If you just write the letter, that’s wonderful. If you do the next thing, I promise you—you are entering into magical territory.

You put the letter in an envelope, you stamp it, and you address it to yourself. That way the letter becomes certified, they stamp it at the post office, and it goes through the mail and circulate in its own magical way. When it comes back to you, you open the envelope, and you read it again. So you are engaging in the letter both as a writer and as a receiver of the letter. And this will remind us of the bigger arc, the bigger picture—why it’s important to not give up on this much deeper call…
While I was listening to her, I thought I should do this. The very first person that came to mind was Mort Drucker. He’s an illustrator at MAD magazine with a remarkably lively pen and ink technique. He was the one artist who inspired me more than anyone else, and this admiration began when I was about eight years old, and has only gotten stronger in the last fifty years.

Yesterday afternoon I went for a walk on a winding trail behind my home, and spent this quiet time composing the letter in my mind. 

Just a few minutes ago, I saw a facebook post from comic illustrator Drew Friedman, and he wrote: 
So sad to hear about the passing of the great Mort Drucker.
He died yesterday at the age of 91, the day I composed a letter in my head, thanking him for not giving up.  

The day before yesterday I sat on a log on the same winding trail, and quietly asked the universe for help. It was raining lightly as I spoke out loud:
Hello Universe, I am asking for help. I feel adrift. I need to get back in touch with the creative part of myself. I know I have more to offer, and I know I can still do good work. I am asking for some sign. I am open and responsive to whatever you have to offer. I thank you in advance.
Seems I got my sign.

More about Mort Drucker. He drew hands and wrinkles so beautifully. His drawings were meant to be funny (and they are) but, but beyond his humor—there is genius in his work. As a boy I would carefully copy his drawings using crummy office pens. He was a traditional “dipper” (dipping a brass nib into India ink). In my 20s I read an article where he spoke about the pen he used, the Gillott 404. I got a box of ‘em and I tired my best to mimic his glorious lines. 

Mort Drucker image from the parody of 2001: A Space Odyssey

Caricature of jazz pianist Bill Evans drawn by me with a Gillott 404

Portrait of Mort Drucker by Drew Friedman


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Sunday, March 15, 2020

a dream of falling to my death

Image of my neighbor's home, the dream was is the summer, but the only good photo I found was in winter (with a moose)


This morning I awoke from a haunting dream. I was standing on very top of a tall ladder positioned my old next door neighbors roof, it seemed like I was trying to help with something on a the peak of the roof, maybe the chimney of some sort of tall antenna. This was a two story house and I was way up there, maybe forty feet or more above the ground.

There came a point when I looked down and saw one of the legs of the ladder had moved a little bit, and it was just enough that it slipped off the edge of the metal roof. In that moment I felt the ladder tipping and there was nothing I could do about it. I was slowly falling out away from the edge of the house, and looking down at the the rocky yard.

I knew I was about to die, and there was nothing I could do. Everything was happening in this eerie slow motion. There was no fear, just a feeling of inevitability, and I thought to myself, “Oh, this is what people mean when they say time slows down.”

I’d pitched off the ladder and was dropping toward my neighbor’s yard. I made a calm declaration to myself, “There is still so much more I can do here, if I live I will do more.”

I watched the ground rushing up, but there was no impact. I calmly opened my eyes and was lying in bed, looking at the dark window next to me.

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Friday, January 17, 2020

Gertrude Abercrombie, owls and UFOs

The Courtship
The Courtship by the surrealist painter, Gertrude Abercrombie. It is part of the permanent collection of the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago. What's interesting is that there is a flying saucer over the man's head and an owl in the lower left. Was this "courtship" a sort of alien abduction? The man is wearing a villain's mask and he is "miming" a gun with his thumb and index finger. The woman is holding up her arms in apparent surrender. The painting was done in 1949, two years after Roswell, when flying saucers were a hot topic. Saucerian-looking, lenticular clouds appear in most of her other works.
I received this image in an email this morning from a reader named John. I immediately started searching out her paintings. Click on any image for a HIrez view.
title unknown
Gertrude Abercrombie (February 17, 1909 – July 3, 1977) was an American painter based in Chicago. Called "the queen of the bohemian artists." She was involved in the Chicago jazz scene and was friends with musicians such as Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, and Sarah Vaughan, whose music inspired her own creative work.
Owl and the Moon
Many compositions feature a lone woman in a flowing gown, often depicted with attributes of sorcery: an owl, a black cat, a crystal ball, or a broomstick. These works were often self-portraits, as she stated in an interview with Studs Terkel shortly before her death: "it is always myself that I paint." Tall and sharp-featured, she considered herself ugly; in life she sometimes wore a pointed velvet hat to accentuate her witch-like appearance, she enjoyed the power this artifice gave her over others who would fear or recoil from her.

(text from Wikipedia)
title unknown
  for more examples of her work, click HERE  
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Thursday, January 16, 2020

Confessions of a Spooky Mind with Walter Bosley - THE UNSEEN

author Walter Bosley

Confessions of a Spooky Mind by Walter Bosley is a short little book and a memoir of sorts, describing some of the strange events in his life. He has written a lot of other books too, both fiction and non-fiction. These including The Empire of the Wheel trilogy and The Esoteric Napoleon. Plus, a handful of thrillers in the classic pulp style.
Walter describes some of his very strange personal experiences and how those lead to his equally strange research. His life has followed a wandering path, crisscrossing with the unknown. This interviews covers UFOs, owls, synchronicity, occult practices and espionage.
A long list of his books can be found HERE.
  audio interview linked HERE  
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Tuesday, January 7, 2020

more companion images for audio book excerpts from Hidden Experience (on THE UNSEEN)


An audio reading from my recent book Hidden Experience is be featured on THE UNSEEN. This weekly podcast is hosted by Whitley Strieber on his site, Unknown Country.

The audio segments were heavily illustrated when they first appeared on the blog back in 2010. The images posted below are meant to accompany my spoken words on the audio book excerpts. These photos and illustrations should help the listener visualize the verbal stories.

  The companion audio podcast is linked HERE  

(Click on any image for a hi-rez view)
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(the first audio excerpt)

Hooting owl and a bright orb in southern Utah
The red pin notes the sleeping spot, the blue pin notes the approximate sight where Natascha saw the bright orb.
Photoshop recreation of the bright orb seen by Natascha

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(the follow up audio excerpt)

Sleeping under the stars in southern Utah
The sleeping spot on the night of March 10th 2013
Photoshop recreation of the round structure on the hill
Google map image showing the sleeping spot (yellow pin) and the round structure on the hilltop (white arrow)
Daylight photo one year later, showing no large structure on the hilltop
a momentary image seen on the afternoon of March 12th 2013
The Red pin notes the turnoff from Highway 20.
The White pin notes the white Jeep.
The Yellow pin notes my sleeping spot.
The Blue pin notes the approx. site of the bright white light.
This shows the turnoff to the camping site 
The yellow line and the exact sleeping spot, noted with the Red pin


Three highly charged events
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(the third audio excerpt)
Hypnosis and the Trial
Photoshop recreation to describe the round hall seen in two hypnosis sessions, 2017 and 2018
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Sunday, December 15, 2019

Christopher Bledsoe speaks with Richard Dolan

My good friend Christopher Bledsoe interviews with Richard Dolan on his radio show. There is over four hours of audio, and this should be considered required listening.

Richard wrote:
What has always stood out regarding Chris Bledsoe is the combination of remarkable events around him combined with high credibility of the man himself. Along with this are the numerous witnesses who vouch for what has been going on his property.
I can vouch for Chris, I've had several remarkable experiences with Chris at his home. Here is one event that I've written about, it's my account of seeing something odd in the night sky.







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Wednesday, November 20, 2019

Companion images for audio book excerpts from Hidden Experience (on THE UNSEEN)

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An audio reading of two chapters from my recent book Hidden Experience will be featured on THE UNSEEN. This weekly podcast is hosted by Whitley Strieber on his site, Unknown Country.

The two chapters were both heavily illustrated when they first appeared on the blog back in 2010. The images posted below are meant to accompany my spoken words on the audio book excerpts. These photos and illustrations should help the listener visualize the verbal stories.

  The companion audio podcast is linked HERE  
(Click on any image for a hi-rez view)
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(the first audio excerpt)
CHAPTER 6
-
The Map

It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane. 

― Philip K. Dick

Lotsa owls in Missouri
Tuesday March 9, 2010 
Mac Tonnies' book, The Cryptoterrestrials (above) arrives in the mail. On the same day an series of amazing owl image (below) arrive in my email inbox.

14 owls in one photo

28 owls (doubled from above) in one photo

Photos by Faren Fite, over 200 owls he saw in rural Missouri. 


Video footage of the owls
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Byron North Dakota and Anya Briggs
Friday, March 12, 2010

The yellow line passes between Lockwood and Greenfield along US-Highway 160 in Missouri. This is the approximate location of those amazing owl photos.

Low tech tools incorporated in the detective work.

Without really thinking about it, I took a plastic ruler and set it against my computer monitor, and the three push pins line up EXACTLY in a straight line. I gotta say, this partially freaked me out, and at the same time, I sorta knew they were gonna line up before I even started.

A weird line, connecting the three dots across a BIG section of the US map. Byron in RED, Kansas City in YELLOW and those owls in BLUE.

I used some of the google-map tools to create a straight line on the map. There are 820 miles between the red push pin up North in Byron and blue push pin down in Greenfield Missouri, on the road where the owl pictures were taken, with that straight yellow line plainly bisecting Kansas City
The hometown of my pal Mac, and the yellow line passes right through the city.
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audio download / 19 minutes long / posted March 12, 2010
The push pin making Byron North Dakota also aligns with another line
Okay, even more weirdness. A straight line (690 miles long) passes directly through BYRON ND and BYRON WY and goes straight though my house in Idaho, and I mean EXACTLY!


This pink push pin marks my cabin in rural Idaho. The blue line ends right at my home after passing (in a razor straight line) from both BYRON's.

My gut reaction to that razor sharp blue line was that it was somehow pointing directly at me! It felt like the floor dropped out from under where I sat. 

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Update on the yellow line on the map
Friday, March 26, 2010



Pink Pin: My cute house in Idaho
Green Pin: Byron Wyoming

Red Pin: Byron North Dakota

Yellow Pin: Kansas City Missouri

Blue Pin: The site where the guy saw over 200 owls!

Yellow Line: 835 miles long

Blue Line: 690 miles long
White Line: 995 miles long
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Mysterious star map?
Friday, April 9, 2010
coffee spilled on some map notes nearly drove me insane!
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Three days in the Pryor Mountains
December 2018
15 mils north of Byron Wyoming is the Montana border, 15 miles north of the border is the Pryor Range
The traditional home to the Little People


The lonely sagebrush landscape of the Pryor Mountains

The closest owl I have ever been to in the wild, close enough to touch. (this is a found photo, but closely matches what I saw) 
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Dream image with a raven
Wednesday, August 22, 2012

tidy art direction from the 1970's

I had a vivid dream just before I awoke, this happened on the morning of August 18th. I clearly saw a  graphic poster with Helvetica bold text.
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CHAPTER 8
-
The Night in the Tent

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.
—H. P. Lovecraft

Irrational fear inside our tent
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Image drawn a few days after the event


image from my sketchbook, made the morning after the event


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(the second audio excerpt)
Sweat lodge and a curious scratch
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Sketch book image of the very humble sweat lodge in Arizona. A simple structure made from arching re-bar, old blankets and canvas. In the foreground is a fire pit with collection of VERY hot rocks

An odd this scratch made of tiny blisters


Natascha, Howard and me (with a cat) early in the morning at the Spider Rock campground
Canyon De Chelly, The Navajo Nation, Arizona
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Friday, October 18, 2019

a chapter dedicated to my friend Mac Tonnies

Here is an entire chapter from my most recent book, Hidden Experience. This is a collection of my memories and blog posts about my friend Mac. This was terribly emotional to write. I am adding it here ten years to the day after his death.
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Chapter 4

Remembering Mac Tonnies



Last night I dreamed I was an android. Someone told me, very casually. I wasn’t particularly surprised, but the revelation left me with a vague sense of existential unease. Speaking of dreams: that’s one very good reason for creating a blog that I hadn’t thought of moments before, when it just seemed like a Cool Thing To Do. A dynamic medium like this welcomes dreams... in 30 years, we’ll be carrying around personal dream recorders and thrusting them into the faces of friends saying, “Watch this!” But everyone will be too engaged in their own half-forgotten Technicolor reveries to pay much attention.

—Mac Tonnies

January 26, 2003 (the first week of his blog)




Mac Tonnies, dead at 34
Friday, October 23, 2009

Mac Tonnies, my friend, is now dead. He was found in his apartment on Thursday, October 22.
Mac was one of a kind. He was a brilliant thinker, very funny and a beautiful speaker. I’m crying in a coffee shop in Moab as I write this. 
You need to understand something—I needed Mac to reassure me that I wasn’t delusional or insane. He got some desperate late night calls from me, during my moments of darkness. He was enormously supportive of me, and my confusing issues.
A little over a week ago, he’d called me out of the blue. We would occasionally have ridiculously long talks about UFOs and the paranormal, and this was the first time he’d ever called me. We spoke for about three hours, and that was normal. I shared some deeply personal stuff, and he was understanding and humorous.
Mac and I never met in person, but I considered him a close friend.

Text added Dec. 2018:
The post above was written at a coffee shop in Moab, Utah. I added it to the blog within minutes of hearing the awful news.
Mac was a remarkable young writer, whose thoughtful voice could have changed the way we think about UFOs. He was a blogger, and his site Posthuman Blueswas perceptive, creative, wry, shrewd, smart and funny. It debuted in 2003, the dawn of the internet era, and he played with ideas about the future, humanity and UFOs. He lead the quintessential bohemian life, working as a barista in a Starbucks in Kansas City, Missouri while producing a remarkable outpouring of creative work.
He was an author, playwright and essayist. He hosted an episode of Supernatural Investigator, a Canadian television show about the research and implications of extraterrestrial life—and watching that now is heartbreaking.
His death hit me hard, and it took me nearly five months before I could collect my thoughts enough to write about him.


My Pal Mac Tonnies
Tuesday, February 9, 2010 

in his element

Just a few days ago, I wrote an email to a friend about Mac Tonnies’ final book. I typed out the word posthumous, and was struck by how much it looks like the title PosthumanBlues, the name of Mac’s blog. My mind can get trapped in an unhealthy obsessive spiral, and I see every little coincidence as a sign of something deeper.
This is a long post, a rambling self-examination on the loss of a friend. I’d been dealing with a jumble of spinning memories, and needed to get them out of my head and written down. I may remove it from the blog at some point, but it feels honest. 

~          ~          ~

In late October of last year, I drove back from a small UFO conference in California (Whitley Strieber’s Dreamland event in Joshua Tree). This was a decidedly heady time, and a lot of intense stuff had invaded my life.
I stopped in Moab, Utah to visit a friend, and camped in the desert at the edge of town. The next morning I had a smoothie at a small breakfast shop, and for some reason I’d requested bee pollen as an extra. I’d never had it before, and figured I’d give it a try. Within minutes of finishing the drink, my face turned red, my lips puffed up, and I was itchy all over. I left the restaurant, walked around the corner and threw up on grass next to the sidewalk.
I was having an allergic reaction. At no point did I feel my airway closing up, but believe me—I was one step away from driving to the emergency room. I took a Benadryl, and waited for it to pass.
While in the throes of this anaphylaxis event, I went to visit a UFO researcher named Elaine Douglass. We had met once before, and had spoken on the phone many times. 
When I arrived at her home, she saw something was wrong with me. I tried to explain, but was worried I would be sick again. I ended up lying on her bathroom floor for the next half hour. Eventually the symptoms began to subside, and we drank tea together at her kitchen table.
We talked about her research, and I told her about my ongoing weirdness. I felt progressively better, and after about an hour I seemed fine. I thought our visit would be short, but we ended up talking for hours. It was late in the afternoon when I finally said goodbye.
At that point I had a long drive in front of me, from southern Utah to my home in Idaho. I went into a little cafe on the main street to fill up on coffee. I pulled out my laptop, checked my email and found out that Mac had died. I sat alone in the back corner of the cafe and cried.
I had talked with Mac just a week or so earlier; it was a typical conversation for us—deep, wide ranging and lots of laughs. It spiraled on late into the night.
I’d assumed that one day I would sit in a coffee shop with Mac, we’d drink espresso and talk, just like we always had. And now he’s gone. 
I wrote a short notice and posted it on my blog. 
Mac had a reverence for espresso—he wrote about it lovingly, and often. I went up to the counter, ordered a double latte short, and savored every beautiful drop.
At that point nobody really knew how he had died, but from what I’d found online, it was assumed to be a heart issue. Earlier in the year, Mac had told me of an experience where he had gone to the hospital to get some sort of heart exam. This was after he’d fainted at work. He was calm and dismissive about the whole thing, treating it as a nuisance.
I got in my car and started driving north. The emotional numbness was oppressive and scary. I chose to travel on the two-lane desert highways, avoiding the inhumanity of I-15 and Salt Lake City.
The drive was astounding beautiful. I had a series of podcast interviews with Mac all loaded up on my iPod, and I listened to them as the sun set in a glorious display of red and orange. The route was empty and desolate, and I drove for as long as an hour without seeing another car.
One of the downloads was a four hour long Coast to Coast interview from just twenty days earlier. This was particularly beautiful and bittersweet. You could hear the delight in George Noory’s voice, it was obvious he was perfectly charmed and engaged talking with Mac. As silly as this sounds, you could sense his mind expanding trying to keep up with Mac’s big ideas.
During this time alone in my car listening to Mac’s calm and wise voice, my chest began to ache. There were sharp pains right behind my ribs, and I knew something was wrong. I have a minimal amount of first aid training, and the symptoms of cardiac arrest are severe “crushing” pain. That wasn’t what I was feeling, it was presenting as something less intense, but something was wrong. 
The pain in my chest seemed related to the allergic reaction from that morning, but at the same time, it wasn’t lost on me that it could be some sort of sympathetic reaction to Mac’s death. I pulled into a gas station, bought a single aspirin in a little foil packet. I swallowed it and hoped this wasn’t the big one.
I got back in my car and drove off into the lonely night. 
When I finished all of Mac’s interviews, I started over and listened again.


 click "Read more >>" thingy below to read the rest 
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