The Original Site of the Lab

This is the West Duke Building, where the Parapsychology Lab was located when it was at Duke. It’s on the East Campus, what was then the Women’s Campus. I wonder if that was like shuffling it off to the side at the time? Imagine if your office was one of the ones with those lovely arched windows, though.

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Update

Cats: Finney meows at whoever walks by. People talk babytalk back to him until they notice me sitting here working. Then they look sheepish (I smile).

Gym: Next week we start free weights. My trainer warned me that the pounds are going to start going up, but that it’s JUST MUSCLE.

Music: Continuing to sound like the religious fanatic in room 128. “Let the guilty prophet perish!”

Research: Something I’ve learned in life: Cops put as little as possible in writing. Scientists put EVERYTHING in writing. No matter how far along I am, I’ve decided, I’m going home in March. I’ve probably got enough for a dozen books at this point. I’m going to get as far as I get, go home, start writing, and if I’ve missed stuff I will hire a student here to copy it for me.

TV: I miss my HDTV. My glorious glorious HDTV. I’m missing the Olympics in HDTV.

I’m Catching Up!

I wanted to find an image of joy or peace. This was the first one I thought of. I’ve always loved this photograph of Francois Gilot and Picasso, and although there’s a lot more going on here, certainly a lot that could be read into it, she looks happy.

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I’ve managed to increase the number of boxes I get through in a day, so I think I can come home in mid-March. What do you think the chances are there’ll be the second storm of the century when I get home? Oh, please please please.

Oh Look! It’s “You’re Still Alone Like a Dog Day!”

Me and Charlie Brown. Well, fuck it. He’s got Snoopy. I got Buddy and Finney. So Valentine’s Day, GO TO HELL.

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That said, presents are still accepted. Valentine’s Day can go to hell except for the giving-Stacy-presents part. Presents for Stacy are welcome at … well, I guess that wouldn’t be too smart to post my address for all the world to see. Damnit. I want presents!

I’m up to 166 Boxes

Bing, bing bing, ricochet rabbit! (We’ll see how many people remember that reference.)

I’ve speeded up the number of boxes I’m going through a day, and if I keep it up I will be able to come home the end of March. Home home home!! Too late for the blizzard it’s killing me to miss (damnit all). Once I start actually writing the book though, I’ll figure out what I didn’t copy and must have and I’ll have to come back. But then I’ll know then exactly what I need and where to find it.

Here’s the table where I work in my effiency. (Note the little plant. My pathetic attempt to cheer the place up.)

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Here are the boxes of copying I’ll be taking home. “Box 2” is over flowing, as you see, and it’s time to start “Box 3.”

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Trumpet Mediums

When I first scanned this photograph at the Rhine Research Center I had no idea what was going on in the picture (aside from all the ectoplasm). I found out a day or two later. This guy is what’s called a “trumpet medium.” The dead spoke via a trumpet. A trumpet. Wait, is there there some sort of religious significance here? Anyway, at one time there were a bunch of mediums call trumpet mediums. (It’s just a little phallic too, isn’t it?) This particular trumpet medium is Ed Moore.

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