Broken Shamans

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Folks, I have been waiting all day to have the quiet time to sit here and type out on my phone something–and you lucky devils, you’re going to get to read it. As I write this at…10:25 PM. Oh, I’ve been at my computer, carrying around my journal, all this stuff, but…nothing. It’s all been banging around in my head, all day, until now.

I saw a picture of Johnny Depp recently at a movie premiere—a premiere for his own movie–and this man, he looked like he was going to *die*. The Daily Mail helpfully made a gif of him looking sick, disoriented, and utterly miserable—something to play on constant loop for the headline of the entire website.

nintchdbpict000364319706-e1509740140217Depp’s bodyguard had to like literally hold him up by his shoulders and walk him down the red carpet. I mean, hold him up so he wouldn’t collapse. And I’m looking at this guy—his Brandon Lee “Crow” tattoo prominently on the back of his hand—and I’m thinking to myself, “what the fuck happened?” This guy was the SHIT all through my teen years, through my college years, and beyond. He was the coolest shit.

hunter-sAnd I’ll tell you a story…you know, I love Depp, and I love Hunter S. Thompson, and Depp loves Hunter S. Thompson…but when like last year or something when Depp was being accused of abusive behavior and there was this leaked video of him like drunk and yelling and smashing shit in his house…I just took my entire HST boxed CD set and just walked to the local donation center and just got rid of that shit. Because

160708-joiner-hunter-s-thompson3-embed_ywnkeyThere was just some dark energy around that shit, and Depp’s obsession with HST just made him lose his fucking mind. He idolized HST but he couldn’t handle it. HST could barely handle it either, but he at least had this outlet with his writing.

Now, you could say a Depp has an outlet with his acting…but does he really? Or for him, is it sort of this periodic shamanic exercise that leaves “residue” every time…every time, his body “host” to another spirit, another thoughtform?

jim-carrey-interview-meaningless-event-harpar-bazaar-fashion-show-nyfwSame for Jim Carrey…I wrote a whole post about this, how like essentially his entire career involves playing shaman-like characters. He’s not looking good these days either…I don’t even mean so much that he is not physically looking good, but just that…there is a weird fucking energy I’m picking up about him.

And it’s not all the metaphysical stuff he’s been talking about in public lately…rather, it’s something *under* all that. (certainly, part of that is the wrongful death trial he’s involved with, which is a super-unfortunate situation on a number of levels)

These are shamans, Depp and Carrey. They were my “local shamans” growing up into adulthood. And sometimes I feel like…they’re *dying*.

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They’re shamans, but without the training and without the grounding. That’s some dangerous stuff, letting all that pass through you like that. Like, taking on the thoughtform residue of an Andy Kaufman or a HST. You need that shit off of you when you’re done…not sort of linger with that shit and let that shit “dry” on you after the film is over.

This post was going to be like one more diatribe about how how Hollywood is a cesspool, but I’m instead getting to the point on an even *deeper* level. There is a tremendous amount of energy being evoked when a film is made…that’s just a fact. It’s a ritual. It’s an elaborate ritual. In the book series Sinister Forces by Peter Levenda, he goes into the magickal mechanics of such in great detail.

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You need to be a grounded person to get through all that. But you add alcohol abuse, drug abuse…apparent people abuse…all this shit.. and then if they are into outright occult/metaphysical stuff on *top* of all that (like I read Depp likes to meditate in his “vampire room”)…that’s a heady brew.

the-virgin-islands-daily-news-august-20-1956Anyway. I just wanted to write this out all day, these thoughts about the subject banging around in my head. I’ve been thinking about this from even before I saw those images of Depp today, actually, from when I had that dream about Hollywood last Thursday night. That was an ominous fucking dream, man. I dream a lot. I’ve had a lot of dreams—and when they’re as vivid and elaborate as that, I’m supposed to pay attention.

It’s going to be a weird few months, leading to the end of the year. Something—and part of that is the Hollywood structure, which we are already seeing—is david-bowie-mobilebreaking down. We are leaving one era behind us and another is about to begin. And all those dead celebrities last year…that was like the first “wave” of it, made up of a lot of people who sort of “opted out” on their own. Many of those passings were not so much like “tragic” as they were sad. But this year it’s a different vibe. And it’s not just about a literal dying, but also a metaphorical dying. It can be about…the dying of a reputation. A dying in the light of the eyes of some people.

We all made a mistake when we bought into the belief that actors were de facto “heroes.” We made a mistake when we started worshipping these people, but that mistake was made a long long time ago before us, at the dawn of cinema—carryover from the primal human drive to follow a god, any god.

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But when we see this increasingly degraded spectacle before us…blasted all over the media, TV screens, magazine covers, across every website and social media platform, gigantic electronic billboards…we need to separate ourselves from *that*. From that energy.

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These whimsical pageants from earlier times no longer charm me. Much of it I can only look at with the eyes of a morbid anthropologist.

More to read about on Butterfly Language:
“…Or Live Long Enough To Become The Villain”
Blade Runner And The Last Temptation Of Philip K. Dick
Observations 10/11/17: Bad Batman