This is a guest blog from a writer that calls herself NooseGirl. She asked me to share this blog post with my fellow bloggers. What is said in these guests posts are the position of the author and not James Edgar Skye or this blog. I allow each author to write in the way they feel comfortable when sharing as guests or contributors. You can find Noosegirl @ http://breathingwithanoose.com
A “Tool” of Fear
2014, my psychosis graciously went into remission and granted a brief 6
month period of sanity. During that time, I was able to return to my
former approach to living life and enjoy all my old interests and
activities. It was during this period of stabilized sanity that my
favorite band announced a pop-up tour.
I am a devoted, typical Tool fan.
Tool is an “art rock” group that realized most of their success in the
late ’90s to mid-2000s. Ideal Tool fans tend to be extremely passionate,
almost to the point of obsession over the band’s members, music, and
lyrics. Collectively, Tool fans can exhibit such enthusiasm and fierce
devotion that is reminiscent of a cult-like following.
obscure, Tool doesn’t interview, release new music, or go out on tour
frequently. Many speculate that aging has weakened the once powerful
lead singer’s voice, and health-related issues are also suspected to
decrease their visibility.
Tool announces that they are going on tour, it’s a big deal! Tickets
sell out instantly, leaving scalpers as the only option from which to
purchase a ticket. Fans are left to pay a steep price that reflects the
rarity and coveted nature of the event.
when I learned Tool would be performing an hour and a half away from me
in Hershey, PA, I jumped at the opportunity to treat myself and
splurged $400 on a ticket. I was ecstatic and excitedly began counting
down the days to the concert. It was about one month away.
the time the date rolled around for the concert, my life had
dramatically changed. Tragically, my sanity had once again become
impaired, and all of the old delusions were back. This time, because it
wasn’t a new experience, what I once considered as suspicion was now
firmly replaced with neurotic conviction.
assumed my brief respite from government interference was because I
secret assignment had been aborted or redirected. But clearly, I was
wrong because “Weirdness” (my pet name for all of the undercover agents
that followed me) was back. Now I realize that the period of their
absence was simply a restorative break. My case had now been returned
back to active status.
return bolstered my confidence and understanding of how controlling and
manipulating the government was in my life. I was surer than ever that
Weirdness permeated every aspect and detail of my life. I no longer
held faith that anyone or anything that I randomly encountered was
was masterminded. All had been engineered. I now viewed my life as a
giant movie set filled with people that were actually actors. Each actor
chose to play carefully designed roles refined and sharpened to
manipulate and influence me.
at the Tool concert, I was full-blown psychotic. The environment
delivered an overwhelming assemblage of “weird people” or actors and
secret agents. They assembled and circulated all around me, each one
purposefully placed to manage and deliver coded instructions.
profusion of secret messages in the crowd was staggering. There were
messages on their t-shirts, in their hairstyles, and incorporated into
their jewelry. I even managed to detect the delivery of information in
food toted around by the crowd. The continuous stream of data,
directives, and commentary, was an absolute and endless assault on my
overloaded and exhausted mind.
the time the concert started, I was a complete mess replete with
confusion, exasperation, and resent. Here I was at a long-awaited show
of my favorite band, and I was miserable. It was impossible to enjoy the
experience. There were just too many messages, too many secret agents. I
was powerless to stop any of it. Reluctantly, I entered the arena and
took my seat.
the concert began, I tried to join in and get into the music. I
attempted to stand and sing along, but my mind teamed with racing
thoughts of government control and interference. I began over-analyzing
the music deciding that there was something “off” about it. Ultimately, I
convinced myself that it really wasn’t Tool that was performing. . .
confirm my suspicions, I decided to rush the stage and get a better
glimpse of the band. I made it almost 6 rows away from the scene, but
the security guards stopped me and sent me back to my seat. Their denial
of access confirmed my suspicions. And, more shockingly, I had figured
out an elaborate sham. That wasn’t Tool on stage. It was a group of
government agents performing their music. They had used a fake Tool band
as a lure to confine me in a crowded arena environment. It was a trap.
And I knew I needed to get out before they captured me.
So in an unnerved and exasperated dash to the door . . I LEFT . . .
- I left my favorite band and a rare performance
- I left after only 3 songs
- I left my $400 seat.
- I left feeling defeated by frustration, confusion, and fear
- I left overflowing with all-encompassing anger
most importantly, I went with the satisfaction of knowing that this
secret-society-government-sex cult had planned to abduct me and I had
outsmarted them . . . this time anyway