What an excellent day for an exorcism.
It's gray and pouring rain out. Thank the maker. The past week has been so unbearably warm for this time of year. I think the angle of the sun in the sky just had a way of making the sunlight harsher than in summer.
We saw the 50th anniversary rerelease of 'The Exorcist' last night. It was a very cool experience. The first time I saw the film, as far as I remember, was in 2000 (I think) when they did the original rerelease where old footage was re-added into the film. It is difficult in 2023 to be "scared" of a movie like it because of how desensitized audiences are to the shock and gore of horror the past twenty years. But, I have to admit that I found several parts of the movie truly unnerving, even if I'd seen it and already knew the basics.
Sound seemed to play a key role in this. The sound system in the theater really made the music, the guttural growling of the demons and various other medical machinery throughout incredibly loud and invasive to the senses. Something intentional by the filmmakers no doubt. Especially during the climax I found myself completely focused on the film and I began to sense how an audience 50 years ago would have been so terrified they were fleeing the theaters and passing out.
This time around, with the help of the big screen, I was really able to take in the visuals as well. Georgetown really has that old school feel to it. A place with true history and age, similar to how I feel about New Orleans. Stunning architecture, all kinds of dark corners and crevices. A place where you can believe supernatural things are lurking in the shadows.
I think it is funny with how I've collected movie scores over the years that 'The Exorcist' is one film I do not have the music for.
The movie felt somewhat topical as well because of all the Catholic themes within it, seeing as I just attended that Catholic funeral on Tuesday. Truly there is something creepy and spooky about Catholicism and all their iconography, rituals and idols. I find horror films that deal with the Catholic church to have an instant spooky aura around them. The other main film I often associate with this aura is John Carpenter's 'Prince of Darkness'. That film scared the hell out of me when I first saw it. Likely back in the late 1980s or early 1990s on cable.
Combining this creepy allure of Catholic imagery with this particular season and my sporadic interest in family genealogy the past year has me wanting to visit some cemeteries. I dug out my notebook from last year where I had started to keep information about the local cemeteries and the locations of my relatives graves. I found the entire process intriguing when I first started looking into things. But, I was not going to pay the ridiculous monthly fees that Ancestory.com asks in order to use their site. But, I was able to use the free trial to gather as much info as I could.
I also used Find A Grave to locate a lot of my extended family's locations. The Sparrow and I looked at a house that was only a few blocks away from a small Catholic cemetery stuck within a neighborhood where my great grandparents on my father's side are buried. I've yet to visit this location. There is also a very cool, old cemetery close to the border of Ohio where their parents, my great, great grandparents are buried.
I truly would love to spend some days going around to these various places and checking out the gravesites. Paying my respects in whatever way people do toward people they never knew, yet owe their lives to in a roundabout way.
I think I said the other day, I don't get hung-up on the idea that the dead person is somehow attached to the gravesite, or their old body. In my mind, when a person dies their "spirit" or soul or whatever you want to believe, exits the flesh husk that just rots away over time. This is why I always find wakes to be so bizarre. The way they make up the body, put all kinds of make-up and wires and whatever throughout the thing to make it appear as if it is alive. It's just a shell. Yet, people touch it, and kiss it, and do all kinds of bizarre things to this corpse. My mind can't comprehend it because I do not believe it is the person anymore.
This creates an odd conflict though when it comes to my curiosity about my ancestors and the sense of some kind of connection visiting the graves. It's a contradiction, because I do not believe the person is "in" there. It's only dust and bones and old clothes sealed up in a coffin. And yet, at the same time, I feel this sense of history that the person's body and family were all in the location at one point when the coffin was brought there and buried. Like being in a place once inhabited by your ancestors.
I feel like I've had the same sense when visiting certain historical locations. Just about being somewhere that was inhabited by certain persons of the past. Hell, it doesn't necessarily have to be a dead person... I've been in locations in Chicago and New Orleans that were in movies and had that "sense" that celebrities were once there. I don't know how to explain it better.
Monday I drove past the house I grew up in. Another good example of being in a place that has history. It's been 23 years since I was in that house, and yet driving past it I feel that past. I have memories that aren't always specific thoughts, but more emotional or sensory. Feelings, smells, images that aren't of anything specific.
When I first started looking into family history, I wondered what the motivation was. Was it because I personally needed to find some sense of history, or is it natural for people of a certain age to begin looking back to try to understand where they came from. Being of the age that someone likely often thinks of their ancestors as being.
When I lived in the city I *LOVED* going to Graceland and Rosehill cemeteries. There is a peace and quiet within a cemetery that you simply cannot find anywhere else. Even going to some forest preserve trail that is completely empty and devoid of all people does not give the same feeling as being in a cemetery. The stones, the bodies, the tombs, the trees... there is just something about it. The cemeteries in the suburbs don't always have that same kind of "magic", I would call it, because they tend to have newer sections, smaller trees, less ornate gravestones. Less history. But, that does not mean they do not have their own "magic".
When it comes to visiting my own ancestors, I do find it to be a very private affair. I've never told my mother or sister (until Tuesday) when I've visited my father's grave. Though I did tell my mother last year about doing all this research. I painted it as very analytical though. The emotions and drive behind it I feel are a very personal thing for me. I'd love to talk about it, if it is with someone that doesn't think there's a motive there. And with my family, they can never just allow me to have interest in something... it always has to be because of some motive, or some other person I saw doing it, or whatnot. As with so many things, I find not talking about it is the easiest way for me to enjoy the process.
I am not sure if I could even feel comfortable doing it with the Sparrow in tow. I just find the experience highly personal and reflective. I do not think I could feel everything I needed to about it having to share the space and time with another person. I get irritated when there happened to be another individual, a complete stranger, anywhere near me in the cemeteries I went to last year.
People grieve how they want to grieve, but some people as I've said seem to make it about their performance. No, I cannot understand for example how it feels to lose a child, but one of the times I was in the cemetery, there was this man throwing himself on the ground and weeping in front of what looked to be a child's grave as it was mounded up with flowers and toys and what not. Again, I cannot know what it is like in that particular situation. But that individual, and some others I've seen, just seem to be overdoing it. Making a spectacle out of their grief. And yes, maybe they want attention to feel better. To not feel alone in their suffering. I can understand that motivation, it's just not what I would do.
It is in the solitude that I find my greatest ability to reflect and experience being present in these situations. No doubt this touches on the inherited paranoia I got from my mother about feeling like people are always watching.
We saw the 50th anniversary rerelease of 'The Exorcist' last night. It was a very cool experience. The first time I saw the film, as far as I remember, was in 2000 (I think) when they did the original rerelease where old footage was re-added into the film. It is difficult in 2023 to be "scared" of a movie like it because of how desensitized audiences are to the shock and gore of horror the past twenty years. But, I have to admit that I found several parts of the movie truly unnerving, even if I'd seen it and already knew the basics.
Sound seemed to play a key role in this. The sound system in the theater really made the music, the guttural growling of the demons and various other medical machinery throughout incredibly loud and invasive to the senses. Something intentional by the filmmakers no doubt. Especially during the climax I found myself completely focused on the film and I began to sense how an audience 50 years ago would have been so terrified they were fleeing the theaters and passing out.
This time around, with the help of the big screen, I was really able to take in the visuals as well. Georgetown really has that old school feel to it. A place with true history and age, similar to how I feel about New Orleans. Stunning architecture, all kinds of dark corners and crevices. A place where you can believe supernatural things are lurking in the shadows.
I think it is funny with how I've collected movie scores over the years that 'The Exorcist' is one film I do not have the music for.
The movie felt somewhat topical as well because of all the Catholic themes within it, seeing as I just attended that Catholic funeral on Tuesday. Truly there is something creepy and spooky about Catholicism and all their iconography, rituals and idols. I find horror films that deal with the Catholic church to have an instant spooky aura around them. The other main film I often associate with this aura is John Carpenter's 'Prince of Darkness'. That film scared the hell out of me when I first saw it. Likely back in the late 1980s or early 1990s on cable.
Combining this creepy allure of Catholic imagery with this particular season and my sporadic interest in family genealogy the past year has me wanting to visit some cemeteries. I dug out my notebook from last year where I had started to keep information about the local cemeteries and the locations of my relatives graves. I found the entire process intriguing when I first started looking into things. But, I was not going to pay the ridiculous monthly fees that Ancestory.com asks in order to use their site. But, I was able to use the free trial to gather as much info as I could.
I also used Find A Grave to locate a lot of my extended family's locations. The Sparrow and I looked at a house that was only a few blocks away from a small Catholic cemetery stuck within a neighborhood where my great grandparents on my father's side are buried. I've yet to visit this location. There is also a very cool, old cemetery close to the border of Ohio where their parents, my great, great grandparents are buried.
I truly would love to spend some days going around to these various places and checking out the gravesites. Paying my respects in whatever way people do toward people they never knew, yet owe their lives to in a roundabout way.
I think I said the other day, I don't get hung-up on the idea that the dead person is somehow attached to the gravesite, or their old body. In my mind, when a person dies their "spirit" or soul or whatever you want to believe, exits the flesh husk that just rots away over time. This is why I always find wakes to be so bizarre. The way they make up the body, put all kinds of make-up and wires and whatever throughout the thing to make it appear as if it is alive. It's just a shell. Yet, people touch it, and kiss it, and do all kinds of bizarre things to this corpse. My mind can't comprehend it because I do not believe it is the person anymore.
This creates an odd conflict though when it comes to my curiosity about my ancestors and the sense of some kind of connection visiting the graves. It's a contradiction, because I do not believe the person is "in" there. It's only dust and bones and old clothes sealed up in a coffin. And yet, at the same time, I feel this sense of history that the person's body and family were all in the location at one point when the coffin was brought there and buried. Like being in a place once inhabited by your ancestors.
I feel like I've had the same sense when visiting certain historical locations. Just about being somewhere that was inhabited by certain persons of the past. Hell, it doesn't necessarily have to be a dead person... I've been in locations in Chicago and New Orleans that were in movies and had that "sense" that celebrities were once there. I don't know how to explain it better.
Monday I drove past the house I grew up in. Another good example of being in a place that has history. It's been 23 years since I was in that house, and yet driving past it I feel that past. I have memories that aren't always specific thoughts, but more emotional or sensory. Feelings, smells, images that aren't of anything specific.
When I first started looking into family history, I wondered what the motivation was. Was it because I personally needed to find some sense of history, or is it natural for people of a certain age to begin looking back to try to understand where they came from. Being of the age that someone likely often thinks of their ancestors as being.
When I lived in the city I *LOVED* going to Graceland and Rosehill cemeteries. There is a peace and quiet within a cemetery that you simply cannot find anywhere else. Even going to some forest preserve trail that is completely empty and devoid of all people does not give the same feeling as being in a cemetery. The stones, the bodies, the tombs, the trees... there is just something about it. The cemeteries in the suburbs don't always have that same kind of "magic", I would call it, because they tend to have newer sections, smaller trees, less ornate gravestones. Less history. But, that does not mean they do not have their own "magic".
When it comes to visiting my own ancestors, I do find it to be a very private affair. I've never told my mother or sister (until Tuesday) when I've visited my father's grave. Though I did tell my mother last year about doing all this research. I painted it as very analytical though. The emotions and drive behind it I feel are a very personal thing for me. I'd love to talk about it, if it is with someone that doesn't think there's a motive there. And with my family, they can never just allow me to have interest in something... it always has to be because of some motive, or some other person I saw doing it, or whatnot. As with so many things, I find not talking about it is the easiest way for me to enjoy the process.
I am not sure if I could even feel comfortable doing it with the Sparrow in tow. I just find the experience highly personal and reflective. I do not think I could feel everything I needed to about it having to share the space and time with another person. I get irritated when there happened to be another individual, a complete stranger, anywhere near me in the cemeteries I went to last year.
People grieve how they want to grieve, but some people as I've said seem to make it about their performance. No, I cannot understand for example how it feels to lose a child, but one of the times I was in the cemetery, there was this man throwing himself on the ground and weeping in front of what looked to be a child's grave as it was mounded up with flowers and toys and what not. Again, I cannot know what it is like in that particular situation. But that individual, and some others I've seen, just seem to be overdoing it. Making a spectacle out of their grief. And yes, maybe they want attention to feel better. To not feel alone in their suffering. I can understand that motivation, it's just not what I would do.
It is in the solitude that I find my greatest ability to reflect and experience being present in these situations. No doubt this touches on the inherited paranoia I got from my mother about feeling like people are always watching.