Paranoia Is The Gift That Keeps On Giving

by Travis Mateer

In some timeline (not this one) I’m watching my kids open up gifts this morning because it’s Christmas and that’s what normal families do. In this version of reality I never cared about Sean Stevenson getting euthanized by the Sheriff’s Office, or challenged the local power structure by making a documentary about Tax Increment Financing. Instead I imagine myself continuing to slowly drink myself to death in order to be in a loveless marriage with a woman now using my kids to hurt me.

This timeline is SO MUCH MORE FUN because instead of facing a self-imposed death sentence by box wine, I’m dealing with non-corporeal entities and the chance I could have been seriously injured or killed when a giant bookshelf came crashing down at 2am on the night of the winter solstice in my little one-bedroom apartment.

Let me add a few more details about this incident so you can appreciate why I got a bundle of Sage on Christmas Eve.

At the top right of the image you can see something else is close to falling, and that something else is a 20th century “Last Rites Shadowbox” of Jesus, specifically the statue of La Pieta, a representation of this famous work of art:

The Pietà (Italian: [maˈdɔnna della pjeˈta]; “[Our Lady of] Pity”; 1498–1499) is a Carrara marble sculpture of Jesus and Mary at Mount Golgotha representing the “Sixth Sorrow” of the Virgin Mary by Michelangelo Buonarroti, in Saint Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City, for which it was made. It is a key work of Italian Renaissance sculpture and often taken as the start of the High Renaissance.

The sculpture captures the moment when Jesus, taken down from the cross, is given to his mother Mary.

This shadowbox has a compartment where relics can be kept. In mine, I have a crucifix, a locket, some other trinkets, and the ashes of a homeless man named Griz.

As you can see from the spilled contents of the bookcase, I have a lot of books, but there was ONE particular book that made it the furthest from the crash, landing conspicuously near the doorway. Was it the book about the Shroud of Turin written by the father of Sean Stevenson? Of course it was.

There are so many layers to this, it boggles my mind, but for the purpose of THIS holiday X-mas post, let’s consider how a father is willing to kill out of love for his creation. Isn’t that what God did by allowing Jesus–born, we are told, on this very day–to be crucified?

There was a song playing at 2am when the bookcase fell in this timeline where I WASN’T sleeping in the spot where the wood shelf I had put on top of the bookcase hit with such force, I found the black pants that took the brunt of the hit with splinters in them and a brown stain from the wood. What song? This one:

After the shock of the crash wore off, the timing of THIS song playing was pretty clear to me, since I had just used the story of a truck driver to convey to a certain boyfriend what I would consider doing were my kids to ever be harmed in this man’s presence. This unfortunate fella has been put in a very challenging position by a woman who didn’t think details of a parenting plan should matter when there’s some inexplicable urgency to introduce this man to my kids, but, well here we are.

The technique I use for my larger meta-narrative research is very reliant on synchronicities, a phenomenon Carl Jung described as essentially meaningful coincidence. Obviously, timing is a big part of this phenomenon, but herein lies a problem: timing is ALSO a factor that can fuel paranoia.

Let me give you a recent example so you can get a sense of how the non-corporeal audience, who I hope are thoroughly entertained by all this, meta-physically gaslight us.

There’s a man who’s literal marbles I am holding hostage because he cares deeply about things like marbles and other very valuable antiques, but one thing this man does NOT care for is seatbelts. That only becomes a problem when there are people in the car, like my kids, and so I’ve had to sometimes get this man to get with the times and wear a fucking seatbelt.

Well, a local man is now dead because he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, and within his name is the exact name of Mr. Marbles. Not only that, but his body was found on the night my books came crashing down. How’s that for timing?

A man who was reported missing 10 days ago was found dead in a rollover car accident.

Flathead County Sheriff Brian Heino, the victim of the accident has been identified as missing 69-year-old Gregory James Wells.

Wells and his vehicle were found by Flathead County Search and Rescue on Saturday.

The Montana Highway Patrol report states investigators believe the crash occurred on December 10 at around 9:30 p.m.

Wells was found dead on December 21 at the scene of the accident on Dayton Creek Road.

…

The driver was not wearing a seatbelt when the vehicle rolled over. The MHP report states drugs and alcohol are suspected in the crash. 

The Kila man was originally reported missing on December 10 after last being seen leaving the Gold Bar Casino in Kalispell at around 6:30 p.m.

Does this fuck with me? How could it not? I’m spending the first X-mas morning I’ve ever spent WITHOUT my kids while my own father, a corporate tool who did his part to socially shame me into jabbing my kids, is enjoying this morning in their presence.

I did NOT jab them, by the way, because I didn’t think the corporate psychopath campaign matched the actual risk, and guess what. I was FUCKING RIGHT!

If I’m allowed in my father’s house later this evening, we’re gonna watch THANK YOU, MR. FAUCI. Will my dad watch, or will he be a fucking coward and hide in his office? I think we’re both going to find out.

Another person who is going to find out I’m serious about getting a response regarding the people I’d like to know if he knows, personally, can wait for his turn in my spotlight. I’m still hoping the man I’ve heard is a bit of a kumbaya poseur into CrossFit community does the smart thing, because the timing of HIS attempt to contact me for the first time was Thanksgiving morning, and that was VERY stupid, considering I was enjoying the limited and VERY precious time I have with my children at the time.

Speaking of stupid, the fact I have unstable people targeting me, which I write about publicly, and sometimes warn people close to me, privately, is now being used by my own ex to provide hypothetical scenarios where my kids are ostracized due to my actions.

It’s sad what 25 years can devolve into, but I’ve been threatened by so many people, and in so many ways, this is just one more to add to the pile. The only difference with this person piling on in order to “move on” is that she doesn’t appreciate that I still have enough bandwidth to provide consistent reminders that fatherhood hasn’t been completely extinguished by this sick fucking culture yet, so in that capacity, my rights won’t be snuffed out.

Because now, I sleep in the goddamn living room.

Since I’ve been gifted the self-soothing ability to rhyme words together, I’ll wrap up this Darko X-Mas post with a tune. If you’d like to give me a gift of digital dollars, Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF) can take it for awhile longer.

Thanks for reading.