Before I Space Out, I have a short comment followed by a Swans video -- intensity few appreciate or even comprehend.

This is dedicated to the rednecks at Imagicon's "pirate party" who wanted to "fight" -- break out the light-savers, lasers, pseudo-paranormal phoniness, spaceships on cinder blocks. . . . 8 Track tapes of Lynyrd Skynyrd, while Portal Dementia played experiemental space music.  Shove your "freebird" up your lack of true ConScience. Swans make your lack of love-life seem real. 

Once upon a place my elders bones still dwell, and my friend's spirit still plays (PT. 1)

Once upon a time I attended the Baptist church that hosts the cemetery where this picture was taken a few weeks ago. I also attended kindergarten through fourth grade on the same grounds. Many of my relatives are buried there. Their remains are devolving under the ground(s) that I used to play upon. The playground was next to tombstones of the unknown. As I grew and evolved, many of the headstones marked the final departure spot of my elders. Some marked my friends final resting place. A place they once played so close by. The head of my Family's remains remain there -- my Granddad Bell. The head of my Step-Family ("Eddard") just recently departed from there, though His remains remain there and with my blood.

I left that church so many years ago. But I can still hear the pipe organ's sound, and the big-haired, player's perfume-covered, musty smell, still lurk in my mind. As she reeked drones behind gospel slurs on Sundays, I was dreaming of swing-sets. I was wanting to fly away. The only way a child could really do so. The playground next to the graveyard, next to the school, beside the church. . . .my launching pad.

In the midst of my fourth-grade year at Coosa Valley Elementary, my parents "decided" I should go to a "private" school. My family's best friends' Son -- my Best Friend -- Paul, Jr., was going to that school some 30 miles away. (So I went to CVA -- AKA, Coosa Valley Academy.)

Our families were very close. But Paul, Sr. had a dark, underworld; a world we did not know about; at least not the depths of. It was a world I can now reflect upon, and unfortunately understand how cold and dark it was. . .and a world Paul, Jr. must have suffered in while I lived within another type of dimension; still dark, but NOTHING like my best friend. Paul, Jr. suffered a different type of misery than I could ever grasp.

Not more than two years passed, and my parents took me out of CVA. I was back in public school.

Paul, Jr., his wonderful Mother, and the wretched father -- Paul, Sr., were murdered. Paul, Jr. was 10-years-old. To describe the brutality, severity, intensity, in which they suffered and died is another story that I am not prepared to tell in detail. (Maybe another day. Maybe not. However, I have posted official court details below. Read with caution.)

My Dad, Sister, mother, and myself were on vacation in Florida. Paul, Jr. and His Mother were invited to join us. Paul, Sr. denied them the opportunity. Before we learned of my Friend's and Family's demise, we had been notified of their disappearance. We abandoned our vacation early and headed home. Upon hitting Montgomery, AL, my Dad stopped at a gas station. "Son, please get me the newspaper."

Birmingham News headliner read:

"Three Found Dead, Apparently the Franklins"
 . . . .
(I cannot express in any words the shock and horror and sickness we ALL felt. My Sister was only 8. I was almost 11.) I read the article over and over and over during the last two-hour drive home. My family. . .speechless.

My heart was devastated. "Life" as we knew it changed in so many ways. My Dad and (so-called) mother decided the "private" school had too many connections/memories regarding Paul, Jr. I assume they meant the best. I had no idea how to deal with such tragedy and trusted any change was for the best.

Changing geography, friends, teachers, bus drivers, yearbooks, lunchrooms, playgrounds, lifestyles, and everything else we tried, never changed the hurt I felt. Nothing ever will to this day. (I actually went back and forth to CVA and local public schools at least four times. I'm not sure what or why or where I was running from, 'cause I still haven't found where I was "supposed" to go.) It's not like I could ever find Paul, Jr., nor ever forget Him. I could never leave Him behind. I still haven't.

The murderer was executed several years ago. He was on death row for 22 years.

I had the "opportunity" to witness his death. I drove towards the prison with tears in my eyes. I stopped. I turned around and headed the opposite way.

I headed to an Amnesty International gathering. They were holding a peaceful protest for said murder's execution near the Birmingham Civil Right's Institute. I observed their sincerity. They did not believe in an "eye for an eye." (There was no matter if said-murderer really DID murder my friend and family.)

I monitored their prayers. I even held hands within their circle. They meant no harm; nor did I.

Upon the 6:27 PM mark, the murderer was pronounced dead. I had waited for years for him to face his fate. He was executed by lethal injection. The circle had many tears. I tried not to cry. I was not successful.

Before leaving, I turned and asked the departing crowd to hear my words and look at what I had i my hands. I simply said: "Here is a picture of my best friend, Paul, Jr. The child and Son of the family that was murdered. Please pray and remember Them, as you have prayed and remembered (and I did so as well) the murderer."

I felt no justice. No peace. No. . . NOTHING. I was numb. I walked away as many followed me and asked to tell them more. I couldn't.

I buried my thoughts, feelings. . .anger. I buried my ancestors and friends. I bury more. There are many more to come. It is a place that draws me back to a space in time I will never shake. The crossroad(s), monuments, relics, memories and sentimental scars, tragedy, beauty, essence, reality and existence.

I often visit the cemetery where my blood still soaks into plots meant to one day hold my flesh and all of my still-living family's as well. I still hear the organ, feel it pumping, smell the playing, swinging above the grounds like a little boy -- still living.

There is much more to this tragic story of my past that I still carry with me. I will share further when the time comes.
-------------------------------

Official Court Details

On My Sleeve, In My Heart, Deep Within My Soul

I am going to try to start blogging again. It's been a while. I've erased most of my old blogs. But I still have many pages RE: my personal information, bands and projects, visual arts, performances and other affiliations. I will list all relevant ones here soon. I have LOTS to share.

First, I want to express a few essential elements concerning Myself and my Life.

I am not a very simple man. I am quite intense at times. The last year has been a new beginning for me. I have been divorced for just over 12 months. Times have changed; a lot of things have changed. I have definitely changed. And though the last year has made me re-learn who I am -- who HUNTER BELL "is," it has been a new kind of hell. The reason: I have not been around my wonderful Son very often. For that matter, I have not seen him in person in over 8 months. Tragedy. Many times I’ve been in utter misery. Not Today.

I MISS MY SON. I LOVE MY SON – Tristan Hunter Bell (born in July 2008).

I’m not always in pain. Somehow I have found HOPE in a place I never thought I would. The place is deeper down, inside my soul, a place I never knew existed until a few years ago. HOPE is not foreign to me anymore. I KNOW I will see my precious Son soon. All will not be lost. Though I will never be able to make up for the ACTUAL times I've missed with him in the past several months, I will make sure he knows me as his Daddy, his Father, and most of all -- His BEST Friend. I have not and never will abandon Him. I look forward to teaching Him the true values every person should learn: Love, Truth/Honesty, Respect, Integrity, Humility, Kindness, Forgiveness, HOPE . . . . . .(and so much more)

I look so forward to our next meeting; our reconnection. I think of Tristan every instant. I send Him my Prayers and Positive Energy every moment I exist. I dream of Him when I close my eyes. But I will never rest well until I hold and hug Him; feed and care for Him; play music and draw pictures with Him. . . . .

There are no words to describe how much I miss my baby boy. I will be with you soon, Tristan.

It is too bad his mother has made things so difficult. But I shan’t let her hate consume me. I have a world to show Tristan. I have an Omniverse to explore with him. I will not succumb to the pain she has put upon me.

I have a very Spiritual Life. It may not be like most people’s idea of Spirituality. In fact, many people may not understand, appreciate or even believe in my concept of Spirituality. They may not believe that I know of a deeper meaning of life than they possibly grasp. I wear lots of my feelings and opinions and attitudes on my sleeve(s). I wear many hats. (But I have only ONE FACE.) I share and express myself more than most. Sometimes I might puzzle people. I have never intended to hurt anyone. I’m sorry that I have. I’m not perfect. I am part of the Human Condition that we all experience. We all experience this condition differently. We all have different paths, whether we choose them or not. This is Life. Like it or not.

Let me make this clear: I have a very deep and powerful Spirit. My Spirituality may not be “worn” on my sleeve like most of the rest of who “I” am. But my Spirit is CONSTANT; it is DEEP; it is forever Evolving; it is Loving and Creative. Tristan will one day know the Spirituality I Speak of and Live by. It is in His Heart and Soul. Like Father, like Son.


I have many wonderful Friends and Family who I Love and Cherish. They return the Love and I am Honored to have them in my Life and a part of my Spiritual Path. I am very Thankful for such incredible Souls in my Life. I am also very Thankful for so many Souls that have touched my Life who have now moved to another Dimension, as They have passed away to another Place. I will never forget Them. I will never forget what They taught me. 

Now that my Spirituality and Feelings/Love for my Son have been temporarily worn on my sleeve and at least touched upon (to a certain degree), I shall Focus on the Future. My Soul is geared, fueled and ready.