How Not To Tell Your Mom You’ve Solved Aliens And Are God

Not so long ago, I was rummaging through old email drafts looking for something for my new book when I came across this gem. It’s an unfinished email that I had intended to send to my mother, apparently to tell her how close I was to proving the reality of alien abductions. I don’t remember if I meant all abductions or just the question of whether or not they happened to me. Either way, we will never know what that solution was because I never finished the damned email and nothing I’ve written or said about them since then has contained anything akin to proof of their reality. Perhaps I realized I was full of shit as I was writing it and just sorta trailed off into oblivion, I dunno. But it’s pretty funny.

It will make far more sense if you’ve read Urgency. or I Know Why The Aliens Don’t land! or heard me talk about my UFO and/or spiritual shenanigans before. However, you don’t have to know anything about me to imagine what it must be like to be my poor mother on the receiving end of “No, really!–I’m sane!” Unabomber communications like this from her only son. 

Enjoy!

Oh, and I’ve changed nothing. Spelling errors, missing punctuation, and the such are intact. 

Enjoy!


07/12/2004

SUBJECT: It’s me, your son, Jeremy!

Hi, Mommy!

I am temping for Travis even as I write. I’m pretty excited so I just wanna get this off my chest before I head home: I am sooo very close to proving aline abductions are real, I can almost taste it. Think how fucking silly my life is: I’m broke. I’m temping. I’m trying to do what no human has been able to do in recorded history. I might as well be Spider-Man 

What’s one thing I’m not, though, in all of this? Insane. Hallucinating. Okay, two things. And…Spider-man. I’m not Spider-man. So three things, then.

But seriously, It’s taken me 20 years but I can FINALLY rule out that my abduction experiences are ralated to some undiscovered mental disorder, some undiagnosed mental disorder, some lie I told myself as a kid and then pathologically started to believe, or Friendly’s “fishamajig” sandwich. I blame most of my problems on those.

Here’s the deal: as we’ve already discussed, the “Vermont UFO” that started this whole thing off has been validated by two total strangers–one a call-in to a radio program and the other a friend of a DJ in Vermont.

So I can no longer entertain the notion that I imagined it or it was a friggen weather balloon that my 13-year-old brain turned into a spaceship or any of that. That’s out the window.

Seeing a UFO that was exactly what I said it was? VALIDATED.

But there’s still this issue of abductions, right?  Hmmm…maybe not for long.

I had an experience a few months ago that I was wide awake for. I think I told you about it but you may have forgotten. It was when I “became” god.  If you don’t remember this or I didn’t tell you, this may sound shockingly grandiose and insane. It’s a long story that’s hard to describe other than to say that that’s exactly what happened. Someone or something opened me up through my back and I quite literally became god. I experienced the overwhelming fast stretch of pure consciousness, pure nothingness, and then an explosion of planets that I watched and at the same time was. It’s the same bullshit Buddha talks about, I’m sure, except it isn’t bullshit and it isn’t metaphorical–it was a real experience. I was awake. This happened.

Shortly into this I was scared shitless. I thought if I didn’t cling to my body I’d die. I thought I was dying! I wasn’t–I was living. My bad, as the kids say. In any event, around the moment the fear kicked in,  the name “Lisette Larkins” kept running through my head, over and over: “Lisette Larkins: Talking To Extraterrestrials…Lisette Larkins, Talking To Extraterrestrials.

As I was watching/being this enormous, orange planet and having the above running through my head, a female voice said to me: “Do we humans not understand that other planets cannot help us if we continue to kill ourselves and block them out?”

Okay, so I finally scared myself out of this state and jumped out of bed. It was six in the morning. I immediately thought of all those horrible, bland contactee messages from the 1950’s. Peaceful, generic messages from benevolent space brothers. Is that what I received? I found it hard to believe unless it was a cosmic joke. So I analyzed what happened to me this way: Either someone, some thing, or some aspect of myself, opened up a piece of undiscovered biology in my back–like a window or a gill through which we breathe the universe if we allow–and I experienced the God experience usually reserved for the likes of a Jesus or a Buddha. This is exciting news because if I can do this, any undisciplined slob can. Maybe our brains are at that point now where there need not be a specific discipline or diet or ritual to experience this. Or maybe I got lucky. I dunno.

I figured the alien stuff was a product of my mind. To me it is clear the being god part happened. It was more real than real. I thought at the time my own fear induced this grasping at something to make sense of the experience: hence the alien voice and Lisette Larkins.

Lisette Larkins is an alien abductee and an author. I’ve never read anything by her. I heard her on a radio show once. I did pick up her book “Calling On Extraterrestrials” in the bookstore once, read a few paragraphs, and put it back. I thought it was shit. “Calling on…” is different than “Talking To…” which is what was running through my head. At the time, this was further proof that that portion of the experience was purely a product of my groping brain.

Cut to a few weeks ago. The Learning Annex calls. They want to know if I can teach a seminar on how to have an alien abduction experience. Of course not, that’s stupid. But instead of telling them that, I say “Yup!” And thankfully, as it turns out…I can.

______________

EDIT: Me looverly wife, Carol, tells me I must at least give the punchline to the Learning Annex story, lest I actually look crazy. The punchline is, the seminar they wanted me to teach was previously taught by none other than Lisette Larkins. You can find the full story tucked away at the end of my book, Urgency..

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