Blog Comments from Beyond the Crypt

Regular Legends readers have no doubt encountered the words of the ghosts who regularly leaves mysterious comments on our blog.  I'm sure you've all been wondering just who this being was in life, and what he's doing hanging around the hotel when by all right he should have long since passed on to his eternal reward.  Well, in this exclusive interview, conducted by an anonymous medium, you can finally get the answers firsthand.  What's more, our ghosts also tells us what he thinks of the new regime, and gives us the scoop on how he managers to tap into the Itnernet from his realm:

Q.  Who are you and what brought you to the Hotel Chelsea?

A.  My name isn't important and actually, I'd prefer to be anonymous.  Some of my loved ones are still alive and I don't wish to see them punished for my, or our, opinions.

I arrived at the Hotel Chelsea in 1960 when my wife H. and I separated.  I had one quickly packed suitcase and my typewriter case, and that's it.  Stanley gave me a room on 8, a tiny place but with a balcony on 23rd street.  I was there  three years until my death.

Before that I was in Hollywood, rewriting other people's scripts, trying to get my own produced.  Bad sci-fi movies all of them, full of big lizards and robots built out of boxes painted silver.  I was fed up with it, and decided to write a novel.

Q.  How did you die?

A.  It's funny, but I have no first hand memory of my own death.  What I know comes from eavesdropping on my former neighbors. Apparently, I was at Macy's shopping for a Christmas present for my estranged wife and I had a heart attack. Before that, I never shopped at Macy's, but there was something there I wanted to get for her apparently.   I wanted to get back with her.

Q.  But you left her?

A.  What else could I do when I found her being tied to a bed with pink scarves by a young male ballet dancer?  But I still loved her.  Go figure.

Q.  Did you ever finish your novel?

A.  No.  It was a piece of crap.  It went out with the trash one day. I found a job writing ad copy.  You know, 99 out of 100 doctors recommend Bold Gold cigarettes.  Hated it.  Then I wrote a musical that was well-received and ran for two years.  Of course I cannot tell you the name of it, as that would reveal my identity.

Q.  You died. And then?

A.  I found myself in the back of a taxi with my wife, but she ignored me.  The cabdriver was ignoring me too. When the cab stopped a man got in, the ballet dancer, and he ignored me even though I was cursing very loudly at him.  When the cab passed the Chelsea I was sucked out of the window and the next thing I knew I was in my room, and Stanley was there, showing it to a young woman. They didn't hear me either.  I thought I was dreaming.

Q.  When did you realize you were dead?

A.  When Stanley told the young woman that the writer who had lived in the room -- and he used my name -- was vacationing in Italy  and wouldn't be coming back. As you know, nobody ever dies at the Chelsea Hotel. In Stanley's view of the universe, we haven't died, we've all just gone somewhere nice, like Italy or France for an extended vacation.   In a way, he's right.

Q.  And you've just hung around since then?

A.  Well, I've gone  to other places to visit, but I always return here.  My home is the Chelsea Hotel. I was at my best here.

Q.  You know, there are many people, mostly outside the hotel, who don't believe in ghosts. Explain yourself.

A.  Being a ghost doesn't give you omnipotence.  We don't know everything.  But from what I understand, it is a parallel universe sort of thing.  I do believe scientists at Oxford have mathematically proven the concept of  an infinite number of parallel universes formed by the infinite possibilities of our choices and the events of our lives.  These parallel universes may be just inches away.  Ours is the one formed by the act of death. Really, to understand fully you have to completely forget the limited human view of Space and Time and, for that matter,  Matter.  We consist of  emotional, creative and intellectual energy.   One day, perhaps, the scientists will prove us wholly, just like the scientist who proved the existence of the anomalon, (a particle which defies the known laws of physics), twenty years after it was first hypothesized.

Q.  Oh.  Okay.  Then how come you are sometimes seen in this universe?

A.  Sometimes sensitive people peer through the membrane to the next universe, and sometimes we are in yours.  Unlike you we do have the ability to move between realms under the right circumstances.  Double sided mirrors and televisions are excellent portals for instance.  Pianos, empty canvases and typewriters are also reliable entry points.  Also the east elevator is a portal as is the pyramid on the roof. And dogs and cats.  They're great channellers.

Q. You have said that ghostly conversation translates in the earthly realm as odor.  How are you communicating with me now?  I don't smell anything.

A.  That's because we are not communicating in physical space  but via the internet.  If you were here you would smell the scents of good cigars, lasagna in the oven,  and cold beer.  We used to rely on channeling by living people to express ourselves.  This is still the standard.  But some of us are able now to access the internet, ever since they put wifi in the lobby.  We just hover near the bust of Harry Truman and we are able to put our thoughts on the web.  Amazing! But far from perfect.

Q. Let's jump to the current situation.  You're the spokesperson for the ghost collective.  Were you elected?

A.  Yes.   It was unanimous.  Everyone had something to say about the ouster of the Bards, but nobody else wanted the job. So here I am.

Q. And --

A. And we're very upset about this new regime.  It's a travesty, and we do not like these two minority shareholders at all, especially David Elder.  It is astonishing that this young man felt he had a right to take over this beloved hotel despite no experience and a small percentage of the stock.  And after all the Bards  -- and the residents, and the ghosts -- put into this place, physically and spiritually!  Who is coming in with the new regime? We don't want to keep company with a bunch of tightass businessmen, excuse my French, or tourists who have never read a book and whose big goal is to shop where Carrie Bradshaw shops or get into some cheesy place like the Star Lounge in hopes of seeing a minor celebrity before getting fish-eyed drunk and vomiting in the gutters.  In other words, people who don't appreciate the great history of this hotel,  but complain about the lack of coffeemaker in the room.  Not our crowd at all. If this isn't resolved, we may all leave and with us goes the peculiar magic of this place.