Accept the Gift

This is my traditional Christmas post.

First posted 12/11/2016 as The Night Bobby Found Christ in an Abandoned Subway Car.

I imagined a modern Nativity and saw a homeless kid who finds the abandoned Christ child in an old subway car.

Will he accept the burden of this gift?

An avatar that represents an alternate named Bobby is shown finding the Christ child in an abandoned subway car
A homeless youth finds the abandoned Christ child in an unused subway car.

I got the idea for the subway car from Dark Days, a documentary made in the 1990’s about a tribe of homeless people who live in the abandoned subway tunnels of New York.

I used VR to make a video of it.

I use two photo-shopped frames from the documentary as an homage to it.

I first came up with this idea in 2011 but didn’t have the skill I needed
to make a video work the way I envisioned it.

I was going to remake the video for this Christmas but had a soul sucking
bout of the  flu that still lingers.

The video works but I see ways to make it better so I WILL remake the video
for next Christmas.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to the World!

May we find our way back to reason and light.

I’ll see you guys after Christmas.

The video is a series high-resolution panels staged and shot in virtual reality and processed in multiple apps.

I cropped a cover of Silent Night  found at the Internet Archives.

To the best of my knowledge the recording is in the public domain.

Rob Goldstein 2016-2018
Revised 2018

Felique Dupré in the Haunted World: Fellini Characters with Hitchcock Touches

A chill settles over Jamaica Plains as the F Train winds
its way to The Village.

“New Haven. Miss?” sang the conductor.

Persephone sits quietly with an old bag between her knees.

Surely, Hades will ignore the weather and see her; but she has
no guarantees.

Her stomach grumbles as she examines the other passengers.

They look like Fellini characters with Hitchcock touches.

To her left is the slave boy from The Satyricon, but, he also looks like
Grace Kelly: and she’s sure she’s seen that whore in La Dolce Vita
and The Birds.

Animated gif of Anita Ekberg and Marcello Mastroianni from Federico Fellini's 'La Dolce Vita'
La Dolce Vita

The E screams to a stop.

“Penn Station. Miss?” sang the conductor.

Persephone quickly rises and says her good-byes.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

Animated gif found on Giphy

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Trina: The Plot

It was then I realized Roy had murdered his first wife and cared
nothing for his son, Little Jimmy.

I strolled with little Jimmy to the New Haven Green and asked if
he wanted a new Mommy.

“N-Not if Daddy kills her!” he replied.

It was then I thought of cigarettes and contrived a plan.

I married Roy and slowly introduced him to cigarettes.

He smoked a carton a day by our first anniversary.

One day, twenty years later, Little Jimmy returned from Yale.

Roy wheezed as I lit his cigarette.

“Trina!” Roy gasped, “You whore!”

“Shut-up,” I snapped. “Here! I’ll break off the filter!”

“Muthuh!” cried Jimmy, “Leave Fathuh alone or I’ll report you to the Surgeon General!”

“You and what lobby?” I sneered.

However, I was nervous and hastily swallowed the lit evidence.

I asked Jimmy what he had learned at Yale that day.

“Schematics,” he replied.

“Liar…” I grinned. “You were cruising the men’s room in the library.  I slipped into one of your Father’s jackets and wore his aftershave.

I saw who you did in the stalls vile boy!”

Roy chortled and slid face first into his ashtray.

I held a mirror to his lips and caught the ashes of his last breath…

(C) Rob Goldstein 1986-2017 All Rights Reserved

A Letter from Home: When My Alternates Talk to Each Other

For those who don’t know my blog, I have DID and a small family
of alternates.

One of my alternates is a 16 year old boy and the other is a
woman named Sara.

They know each other; Sara is a protector and Mother figure.

I found this letter from Bobby to Sara composed in 2010  with her reply.

I am surprised by the correspondence because I didn’t know
my alternates were friends and allies.

The logic of Dissociative Identity Disorder is that ‘split’ aspects
of the self are perceived as “other”.

I think that Sara was the first alternate, which means she
emerged in childhood.

She comes out when one of the younger alters feels threatened.

There are many letters filed under ‘Letters from Home”.

Most of these are from Bobby to Bob.

Bobby wrote this to Sara as a 15-year-old.

It is the only letter from Bobby to Sara.

Her reply follows this post.

dear sara,

i’m at battery park in Charleston watching an old guy with a
big box of crackers.

he’s feeding it to a flock of pigeons.

it reminds me of the story of exodus.

you reckon god threw manna at us a watched
us fight?

sometimes i think life is magic but grown ups don’t
wanna talk about magic.

ok, so, i got a question:

let’s say one day u meet someone an this person sez they got alotta  love for you an wanna do good by you but somethin’ dont feel right but you need to be loved an the dude seems straight up but there’s a shadow that you don’t really see but you know it’s there and it feels familiar.

but you don’t want to lose the love so u try to make room for  the shadow by telling yourself it ain’t there, when bam!

you catch the dude in a lie, like when we was robby, with nasty secrets, an the cruel bruises and words that slice your soul.

so you try to talk about it cuz you wanna believe it’s all in your head  so you say to the dude that says he loves you, you say: “i’m scared  that somethin’ is wrong.”

right away he starts calling me names an saying i’m a hater an that i ain’t got no gratitude cuz most folks don’t even want to know me an i think, “damn! this feels familiar!”

the only person that will ever love me will leave if i try to talk about these shadows that are now everywhere so i get confused, cuz I really  want it to be me, cuz maybe i’m imagining it, cuz maybe i’m a hater an  everything about me is wrong.

sara, are those shadows really there?

and i got one last question about thinking life is magic.

how come when i say i think the world is made of magic folks tell me to get over it and grow up?

Love,

Bobby

A Letter from Home: Dear Bobby

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save