I am Published, I Shan’t Perish

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My first book is no longer imaginary. We have a publication date at last. The brilliant Doctor Bethany Poston, PhD and I wrote a chapter of McFarland’s A State of Arrested Development: Critical Essays on the Innovative Television Comedy out April 15, 2015.

Best of all, Arrested Development creator Mitchell Hurwitz wrote the forward. We’re in the same book, see.

Our essay is called “Families with Low Self-Esteem: The Fünke Dynamic.” The research was a grueling round of hilarity and psychological analysis. My deadline nightmares consisted of rewriting sentences while a “Blue Man” Tobias (David Cross) floated disembodied in the corner. I cannot wait for you to read it.

Pre-order on Amazon.

Ghostbusting 101: Breathing

The Crypt of Peel Castle. Photography by Graham Richards.

The Crypt of Peel Castle. Photography by Graham Richards.

I began tutoring my first parapsychology student today. He wants to know how to see ghosts. Therefore my first goal is to teach him to be invisible to ghosts. Lesson one: breathing. Extra Sensory Perception requires a steady mind. The exercise of breathing for eight – in for 8, hold for 8, exhale for 8 – effectively balances the surge of adrenaline customary to paranormal encounters. Breathing is the most effective way to keep your composure (and consciousness) in potentially frightening situations.

What is the most important part of seeing ghosts? he asked.

Breathing, I repeated. Imagine a bright white light.

I guided him through a simple meditation of breath and white light. After the session, I lent him my copy of Loyd Auerbach’s Ghosthunting. It took me years to reach a point where I am comfortable openly discussing ESP. I am humbled to now mentor kids who see ghosts. In so doing, I feel like I am helping my 10-year-old self. That busy, pointy-legged creature blinking at the ghosts in the window. Three cheers for education.

If you are interested in parapsychology tutoring sessions via Skype ($20/hour), contact me at CrismanRichards[at]Gmail[dot]com.

Love and Light,

Cris

But Who Am I Going To Call?

Slipping beyond the veil is as subtle as turning a page.

Slipping beyond the veil is as subtle as turning a page.

Like any girl curious about the disembodied faces ever watching her from the window, I thought one day I’d make a fine Ghostbuster. As a child, my spectacles and frizzy flop of hair resembled Dr Egon Spengler, psychologically confirming my be-coveralled destiny. The Ghostbusters instilled within me an analytical, if hilarious, basis for my intuitive research. The beloved characters were inspired by the great Doctor Hans Holzer, because Dan Akroyd is all about paranormal academia. As am I, good sir. As am I.

Naturally, when I heard that Ghostbusters 3 will be an accurate all-female crew (fancy that: women make excellent intuitive investigators), my first thought was: How do I get in on that? Followed immediately by: there is no way I have time to play a Ghostbuster, I have actual ghosts to contend with on the regular.

It was the first time I realized that I grew up and became a Ghostbuster all on my own.

Well, I can’t really say “on my own,” as the spirit world rarely leaves me alone for a moment. My research has been focused sharply on understanding my intuitive abilities. In so doing, I seem to have opened Pandora’s Box. Whoopsy Daisy. When I was a girl I always asked Them not to appear before me. “I startle easy,” I said into the darkness. They kindly obliged.

Until recently.

Want to hear my ghost stories?

Can You Spot the Muncaster Ghost in this Picture?

A walk through Muncaster wood. Photo by Graham Richards.

Can you see her? Photo by Graham Richards using a setting that only shows the color green.

I have been on a long and winding road to my ancestral home of Muncaster Castle for nearly 13 years. After dozens of journals, archives, and ghost stories we arrived in Cumbria on 21 August. Husband took this picture while we were ambling up the footpath between Ravenglass and Muncaster. These woods are believed to be inhabited by the ghost of Mary Bragg, a heartbroken 19th century maid murdered nearby. The poor dear was in love with a footman at our castle, but so was one of the castle maids. It did not end well. Love triangles are always sticky, you know.

I will be further exploring the story of Mary Bragg in my book, The Baroness and Fool. It was not until last night that we noticed an extra face in the photograph above. I was having great fun terrorizing my editor, Doctor Bethany, with photos catching only the green (thus my appearance), when my roommate asked the see the picture up close and instantly zoomed to investigate an inconsistent shadow beneath the tree. Upon examination, I have determined to analyze this picture closely. I’ve been studying Hans Holzer, Lloyd Auerbach, and Ghostbusters for such a time as this.

So tell me, do you see her?

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Isle at War: Good Luck, Everyone.

Laxey's WWI memorial -- one of nearly 200 scattered across the Isle of Man. Photography by Graham Richards.

Laxey’s WWI memorial — one of nearly 200 scattered across the Isle of Man. Photography by Graham Richards.

We’ve recently returned from an enchanted holiday on the British Isles, where we ran wild among ruins while I scribbled copious notes on index cards squirreled away in my flesh-tone fanny pack. Many of the notes belong to essays for my current book project, The Baroness and Fool, while others make better conversation pieces for the world at large.

Our arrival coincided with the Island at War events honoring the fallen and brave of The Great War. Now, being a gun-shy American I struggle with any celebration of war. I come from a land where war is endlessly perpetuated both in secret and broad daylight. Still, I was profoundly moved by the love poured into remembering a terrible time that forever changed the people inhabiting this breathtaking landscape. The Manx culture maintains a reverence for the losses of war, one that seems to render them impervious to the fear perpetuated in most other corners of the globe.

Inspired to learn more from the British perspective on WWI, I turned to my favorite history professor, The Black Adder. While I have watched the first three series at least a dozen times each, I’ve never sat down to go through all of The Black Adder Goes Forth. I clearly was not emotionally prepared to end my favorite television program, the single greatest period sitcom of all time. But I digress. The final episode, “Goodbyeee”, is available on Netflix. Once you’ve gone through the entire series for your own delight, grab your favorite sedative and saddle up for a jarring bolt of the reality of war. I was thunderstruck, which surprised me as Hugh Laurie had been wearing a pretty dress not two episodes prior. Biting hilarity is the most effective way to speak truth to power, to embrace satire as a weapon in the battle you know you’re going to lose.

Or, you can watch the last few moments here. Good luck, everyone.

 

 

 

Children of Same-Sex Couples Happier, Healthier Than General Population

Crisman:

Further support that love is all we need.

Originally posted on Queer Landia:

Photo via Shutterstock

Photo via Shutterstock

A recently conducted study from the University of Melbourne, in Australia, found that the children of same-sex couples fare better “than the general population on measures of general health and family cohesion.”  Now, if you’re like me, you may have heard of similar studies in the last several years, and I really am supportive of them, mainly because, quite often the religious right and those who are anti-gay, anti same-sex marriage, and anti-gay adoption speak in terms of “protecting the children”, and that “children need a mom and a dad”, plus use discredited studies to support their rhetoric, so when I hear of a new documented study, like this one, I couldn’t be more pleased.  Now, on to the story…

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How I Rode the #WaveofAction and Won.

Here I am standing before the Senate Judiciary Commitee (and a crowded gallery) in support of AJR1.

Here I am standing before the Senate Judiciary Commitee (and a crowded gallery) in support of AJR1.

For the first time in 10 years, I willingly celebrated the 4th of July. We, the disenchanted masses known as The People of the United States of America, are prone to gag at the perverted sense of “patriotism” displayed by the American plutocracy what plagues humanity with endless war, flagrant violations of International law, and the global annihilation of basic human rights. Industrial Militarization is out of control. We live in an oligarchy masquerading as a democracy. Our government does not even pretend to represent the will of The People. Now we are left with two basic options similarly offered the Revolutionary Americans we honor this Independence Day weekend: accept what is handed down from the Mighty 1% under the sedation of willful blindness; or dissent through organization, protest, and effective legislative change.

In this spirit, I joined forces with Wolf-PAC and have come away forever empowered by the experience. We were the active force behind the passing of AJR1 in the California State Senate. We talked to voters. We talked to Representatives. We lobbied for the People. We, The People enacted change. Welcome to the paradigm shift.

My current book project involves academically researching my family history. My Fifth Great Grandfather, Captain Micajah Pennington, served in the American Revolution. Perhaps that is one reason I feel so deeply connected to this fight. By looking at the historical significance of my family tree, I now understand my instinctive passion to protect democracy. I recommend The Resident‘s report on the 18th Century Revolutionary War battles we still wage today. Further compelling is Nomi Prin’s “21st Century Declaration of Independence:”

In this latest course of human events, we must pursue independence from oligarchical control over our lives, liberties and pursuits of happiness.

We must pursue independence from corporate dominance over our individual economic destinies and collective opportunities to afford basic needs.

We must insist upon the separation of public office and private power crony alliances that increase rather than reduce inequality.

We must demand the reduction in defense budgets that foster international destruction and infringe upon individual liberties.

We must alter the fundamental trajectory of government-banking ties that dictate the flow of money backed by debt to the hands of those that speculate most dangerously with it.

In short, we must elevate the equality of humanity that pervaded the intent of the Declaration of Independence by moving away from the rapaciousness of old and modern tyranny that prevents it.

-Nomi Prins, Nation of Change.

 

A Brief History of Muncaster Castle

The Richards. Photography by Tiffany Black, Blackbirdphoto.com.

The Richards. Photography by Tiffany Black, Blackbirdphoto.com.

 

This week, I made a dispassionate decision to put the podcast on sabbatical in order to devote my life to telling ghost stories of my ancestors, the Penningtons of Muncaster Castle. This is a project I have been researching for 10 years — 30, if you count the endless hours of Blackadder I watched as a child or my own personal paranormal experiences, 800 if you count my genetic memory imprinted across the castle grounds.

The Baroness & the Fool began in earnest two years ago at Cicily JanusWriting Away mountaintop retreat. There at a cozy oak table in the company of literary lovelies, I realized my responsibility as “the Pennington with the pen.” Incidentally, that is the very same moment I realized I am in love with Graham. I called him up and said, “I need you to go with me to my family’s castle, and also I am in love with you.”

Since then, we uprooted our entire lives in order to be together and bring you these stories. Please enjoy this construction paper tale introducing the adventure at hand.

Follow along on our journey from the modern comforts of electronic mail.

 

Mark Twain’s Lasting Message to San Francisco.

Mark Twain came to San Francisco to "be a butterfly."

Mark Twain came to San Francisco to “be a butterfly.”

I was on the tail end of two homeless years when I tattooed Mark Twain across the inside of my arm. I temporarily became another casualty of capitalism, made well-aware of my corporate worth and relegated to the service industry where I could only earn $2.13 an hour slinging beer. Though the economy no longer recognized my intrinsic value, I knuckled down and worked smarter than ever before. I would clock in as many hours as I could get and spend every other waking moment scratching my way out of hell with my pencil. It was the dawn of my prolific Thirties.

I wrote my way home to San Francisco, the same city where Samuel Clements spent two painfully broke years subsequently becoming Mark Twain. “All things that go to make life happy, are present in San Francisco to-day, just as they are all days in the year,” Mark Twain wrote shortly after moving to the city in May 1864. While I thankfully have stabilized my way to the coveted middle-class bracket, there are approximately 7,350 homeless souls in San Francisco and another estimated 633,782 across this willfully-blind nation of ours. During my rooftop-challenged months, I was fortunate enough to have a carousel of hospitable couches to sleep on and only had to spend a couple of cold nights in my mini-van.

As I read Ben Tarnoff’s new book, The Bohemians: Mark Twain and the San Francisco Writers Who Reinvented American Literature, I am reminded of how the dark nights illuminated the world to me and forever altered my empathic perspective. Mark Twain circulated city hotels until his pockets were emptied, scraping together a meager living as a freelance writer during San Francisco’s post-civil war literary boom, then later chronicling his Bohemian mis-adventures in his book Roughing It. As Tarnoff details, the Bohemians “shared a single purpose: to wage all-out war on mediocrity, materialism, and the middlebrow.” In America, “Bohemian” was once referred to a working writer. 19th Century San Francisco sustained more professional scribblers in proportion to its total population than any other American city, and gave writers plenty of opportunities to ply their trade. San Francisco provides a steady stream of suitable material for any artist. Creativity saved my sanity and now I am beginning to understand the transformative power of storytelling. In moments of despair, head in hand, I see the words of Mark Twain eternally imprinted beneath my skin: “Against the assault of laughter nothing can stand.” Like Twain, I mine my misfortunes for material, and play them for laughs. What would he have to say about the sad state of affairs in our Beloved San Francisco today?

Mark Twain wrote “that while New Yorkers are burdened with banks and drifts of snow, Californians are burdened with banks and drifts of flowers, if they only keep their hands off and let them grow.” Twain reveled in the blend of Old and New World culture blooming in California and understood firsthand that the West offered a promising path forward for himself personally, and on a larger scope, for the war-torn nation ripped brutally along the Mason-Dixon line. Alternatively, Twain reflected the cultural divide between East and West. San Francisco deepened Mark Twain. Daily journalism gave him a swift education in this cosmopolitan social world, and plenty to stir his moral outrage. He met crooked officials and lazy, brutal cops, and watched society reward the strong and the shameless. As such, his work at The Californian marked a new stage in the evolution of the literary West. If Mark Twain had given up in the depths of 1864, history would have quickly forgotten him along with the other minor-league wits who enlivened the era’s newspapers. But Mark Twain stayed in San Francisco and more importantly, he kept writing. Tarnoff notes “the city humbled him often. It pushed him to the brink of bankruptcy and suicide, and inspired moments of difficult soul-searching. But in the process he grew more profound, more perceptive. His satire became more socially astute. His humor developed a lacerating moral edge.” We have much to learn from his immortal words, and even more from emulating his active creativity in these dire times. Pick up your pen.

As Twain boldly took on the Establishment, the moral dimension of his work began to mature. He told small, funny lies meant to illuminate large, unfunny ones. Fictions in pursuit of the truth enabled Twain to bridge the gap between how America saw itself and what it actually looked like. Twain hated hypocrites, snobs, and bullies. He would be the first to throw a rock at the Google Bus. Tarnoff explains the longer Mark Twain spent in San Francisco, the shrewder his analysis became. He criticized not just people but institutions; not just isolated cases of bad behavior but broader patterns of injustice. Twain gave voice to the conscience of the individual against the crowd. Twain was mischievous as ever, San Francisco gave him a discerning edge. At the end of Twain’s two year residency in San Francisco, he concluded with a sincere farewell lecture to the city he loved. He praised our generosity, our ‘good-fellowship.’ The country he once knew had become an ‘unknown land,’ wasted by war, dotted with premature graves. Channeling the rhetoric of legions of local boosters, Twain waxed lyrical about California’s prospects. “She stands in the center of the grand highway of nations,” he declared, adding “[s]he stands midway between the Old World and the New, and both shall pay her tribute. Has any other State so brilliant a future? Has any other city a future like San Francisco?” That frontier, anti-Establishment spirit still cries out from the streets. If you listen carefully, you can still hear Mark Twain’s echo for justice. Raise your voice, San Francisco.

Foreign Legion

On stage in The Legionnaire's upper room. Photography by Graham Richards.

On stage in The Legionnaire’s upper room. Photography by Graham Richards.

Legendary hip-hop duo Foreign Legion’s Marc Stretch and Prozack Turner join Crisman to discuss gentrification, community, and babies. Featuring beats by G Koop & O-man and the late, great, J.Dilla. Recorded at The Legionnaire Saloon in Oakland, California.

Produced by Crisman Richards.
Theme Music and Engineering by Graham Richards.

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