A Test Of Character

A common stereotype of young men is that they may be able to forge strong friendships out of confrontations with one another. Perhaps no group proves this more than the traditional fraternal organizations of German Universities.

The practice of dueling and training with swords is likely as old as the sword itself. During the 15th and 16th century, most well-to-do gentlemen would not leave their home unarmed. Weapons such as the rapier and smallsword were indispensable in a world populated by territorial political conflict and violent robberies while on the road. Young men attending college, who were invariably the descendants of wealth or nobility, would bring their weapons with them while traveling between campus and home. It does not take much imagination to see that young me, away from home, would come in to conflict with one another. The blood y and often lethal encounters were common enough to warrant multiple fencing schools forming in most major cities.

By the late 17th century, dueling was so common place that laws and customs were developed to attempt to set some restraint around this dangerous activity. By the end of the 18th century, most men of the aristocracy had been involved one or more duels, and laws eventually passed to outlaw this activity. This did not, however, change the fact that sword-play had become engrained into the cultural fabric of Europe. In France, blunted swords designed for thrusting (the forerunner of the modern Fencing Foil) were popular for men interested in sword training. The Germans, on the other hand, came to prefer a different sword for the “Gentlemanly Art.” This weapon, called a Schlager, was a heavy saber with a large bell or basket shaped hand guard, was used for slashing and cutting rather the thrusting weapons found elsewhere.

What separates Mensur, the Schlager Fencing art of German Student Unions, are three important facts. First, Mensur combat is not about winning or losing. While there are a number of traditions that surround this art, the purpose of Mensur is ultimately “character building.” Secondly, Mensur is a “static” art. Most people who are familiar with “traditional” Fencing are used to seeing the competitors moving and lunging at lightning speed across a platform. In Mensur, the combatants stand only a few feet apart, without dodging or feinting, and attack each other while standing in place. The largest distinction, however, that separate Mensur from other “sport” Fencing forms is that the blades of the Schlagers are razor sharp.



It is difficult to comprehend why seemingly intelligent young men (according to tradition, women are not supposed to join this activity) would engage in such a fool-hardy and dangerous activity. Viewed historically, however, Mensur dueling is not unique. The practice of young men and women training in formalized or ritualized combat as an educational experience is common across a multitude of cultures. The Nguni, a tribe within the Bantu language group of Central Africa, train young men in a form of staff fighting. Japanese school children, often times throughout High School and College, may study Judo (an aggressive form of wrestling emphasizing chokes holds and joint-breaking locks) Kendo (a form of Fencing that is rooted in the study of the Japanese Katana sword,) and Atarashii Naginata (Fencing with bamboo poles, based on a Samurai Polearm.) It could even be argued that American football could be seen as a form of ritualized group warfare.

Though made illegal by the Nazis in World War Two, Mensur has seen a slow return to practice since the 1950’s. While not every Fraternal organization on every campus takes part in this activity, groups who do take pride in being seen as “Fighting Fraternities.” Those individuals who participate in this sport now wear protection for the eyes, throat, sword-arm and chest, participants still stick to the tradition of striking for the face. In fact, a young man who has a Schmiss, or scar from a Mensur engagement, is considered to have a mark of distinction on his face.

It’s impossible to predict the future of Mensur. Provided that young men, loaded with a sense of invincibility and testosterone, the future of German Academic Fencing is likely bright, if not bloody and unpleasant.

Valley of The Dolls?

As previously noted, one of the cornerstones of horror lies in things not happening as expected. While this is principle is easy to apply in the context of fiction, why is it so true yet so seemingly difficult to explain in the context of real life?

You would be hard pressed in this day and age to find someone living in an industrialized nation who hasn’t seen a Warner Bros. or Disney cartoon. There seems, on a base level, to be an innate charm to vaguely humanoid creatures gifted with speech and independent thought. Furthermore, Humans have a tendency to assign human characteristics to animals and other non-human entities. This habit is called Anthropomorphism. One need only take a brief stroll through mythology and fable to discover that this habit permeates nearly all elements of history and human experience.

So what would happen if you house pet began to speak?

While Science Fiction is full of seemingly human entities, actual science is only now beginning to make headway towards convincing replicas of human beings. Until recently, Robots have served a functional purpose in industry and mechanics for years, but Androids (robots which function to replicate human beings) have yet to find a function, in part due to failing to actually replicate people convincingly.


Japan and South Korea, both having a cultural and industrial leaning towards technology, have become leaders in the field of robotics research and development. The Intelligent Robotics Lab of Osaka University teamed with the Kokoro Co., Ltd. To produce an android called DER 2. A complex arrangement of servomotors and pressurized air allow this machine to mimic a wide variety of human mannerisms (though it is still incapable of independent movement.) Not to be outdone, a research group with the Korea Institute of Industrial Technology, led by Baeg Moon-hong, unveiled EveR-1, a female android capable of limited speech in English and Korean, emotional display and response, as well as making and keeping eye contact.

As fascinating as these development may be, an almost inevitable reaction to any sort of humanoid automaton that replicates the actions of people is discomfort. While this seems counter-intuitive, humans seem almost hard-wired to want robots and other creations to look and behave like robots, and can only tolerate a small amount of human appearance and behavior from them.

Sigmund Freud penned an essay in 1919 entitled The Uncanny. The article expanded upon an article written in 1906 by Ernst Jentsch, which described how cognitive dissonance is sometimes caused by a sensation of an item or experience being foreign and familiar all at once. Regarding robots that behave or replicate human behavior, Mori Masahiro may have an explanation.

Mori, a roboticist coined the term Bukimi no Tani, or “The Uncanny Valley.” Mori theorized that human beings can identify and empathize with non-human entities more as they begin to look less like machines and more like organic creatures. However, the closer this thing comes close to perfect replication of the human form, something dramatic occurs. As a non-human begins to become indistinguishable from an actual human (or by extrapolation, if a corpse, which is already considered mildly unsettling, where to suddenly reanimate and crave the flesh of the living) humans stop view it as a robot acting like a person, but instead begin to view it as a human who is acting strangely, even behaving incorrectly. On a graph, subjective reaction to one of the entities can be measured as rising to a peak; as the entity grows more likable, the line grows vertically. Suddenly, the line drops due to being disturbed by the android or entity, causing a “valley” in the chart.

The “Uncanny Valley” reaction begs a question: Why do humans continue to strive toward perfecting a human replica when such a large section of the population will invariably be repulsed by the results? Perhaps the desire to assign an anthropomorphic quality to our surroundings and world is an inevitability. Humans being locked into our own perceptions and notions of consciousness need to project that framework onto reality. So when an entity that “should behave as we do” does not, we are horrified.

From this, two more questions emerge. At what point does this sense of disgust stop? Will we ever outgrow this sensation? Perhaps, the fear lies at this: what if we were to discover a soul in the machine, or perhaps, that we do not have really have one of our own.

I Need Help!

I don't know about you but I am happy with the progress I am making here at The Obscuritan Journal. While the content comes pretty naturally to me, I need help with getting the word out about this blog.

So I'm asking my readers for a little advice. What is the best way, do you think, to generate some hits? I want this to become a website with a large readership (not that you guys and gals aren't great.)

So if any of you have any ideas regarding advertising or getting the word out, I am all ears. Contact me via my email (for those who have it,) Facebook, or leave a comment with a suggestion. I am all ears!

Four Gods

The counterculture of the 1960's conjures a wide variety of reactions. Some look back with a charmed nostalgia. Others, mainly those who didn't "tune in, turn on, and drop out," view this time period as the end of a "golden era" of Western culture. Regardless of one's opinion, it is near-impossible to deny that the '60s created and unleashed a number of colorful and bizarre figures into pop consciousness. Some figures, such as "Gonzo" journalist Hunter S. Thompson continued to show influence well past the '60s. But what of the others, those brief and unusual flashes in the pan?
The Process Church of the Final Judgement, or simply The Process existed only briefly, but is an organization whose influences can still be felt at the fringes of modern subculture. The groups strange and often maligned story is similar to many other cults and radical religious movements but does not evoke the same reaction as groups such as the Waco, Texas Branch Davidians. Depending on which account you assume to be true, a mention of The Process is met with conspiratorial whispers or groans and rolled eyes.

The strange story of The Process begins in England where Robert DeGrimston met Mary-Anne McClean. Both DeGrimston and McClean were heavily involved in Scientology, training at the Fitzroy Street church to become auditors. In a short period of time the two became extremely skilled at Scientology's unusual psycho-spiritual counseling techniques and began breaking away for the organization's guidelines. Going under the name "Compulsion Analysis," DeGrimston and McClean went in to business for themselves. After being excommunicated from Scientology, the two were married.

The combination of Robert DeGrimston's peaceful, hippie-handsome public presentation and Mary-Anne DeGrimston's head-strong personlity was magnetic. The pairing of attraction and authority is common to most cult groups, and for the DeGrimston's, it quickly turned out to be a profitable crowd pleaser.

In 1966, the DeGrimston's and 25 devotees of "Compulsion Analysis" leased and moved to a property of Mexican coastline called Xtul. By all accounts, the property caused them $150 a year and was far from luxurious. It was in this communal lifestyle that the group began to transform. According to legend, the group weathered a massive tropical storm, where they met Jehovah (a Hebrew name used to describe the God of the Old Testament.) It was at this point that Robert and Mary-Anne DeGrimston took the group in a new direction.

Now known as The Process Church of the Final Judgement, Mary-Anne and Robert DeGrimston preached an unusual blend of Apocalyptic proto-Gnostic Christianity. The very term, "Process," was an abbreviation for the term "Pro-Cessation," denoting a desire for a Biblical Armageddon. Also, The Process viewed Divinity as divided into four deities. Jehovah, a strong and authoritarian deity of self-restraint. Satan was the God of unrestrained aggression and animalistic violence. Lucifer, the "Morning Star" of Judeo-Christian belief, represented lust, playfulness, and sensuality. Finally, "Processeans," as they called themselves, view Christ as a being of peace and mercy, intent on unifying all of the deities together and thus leading to the end of the world. As a symbol, The Process used a sort of skewed cross, vaguely resembling a swastika, representing this four-corned mythos.

Given their unusual theology and striking public appearance (members were prone to wear gray or blue suits, black hooded robes, Satanic pendants and large crucifixes in public,) The Process was easily misunderstood. But for it's worth, they did make attempts, perhaps misguided, at charity and assisting Church members. Assistance with finances food and personal issues were offered, however it's also been said that most members would easily be tithing 10% of monthly income to Church leadership, while the DeGrimston's and other leaders would live it relative luxury.

A combination of factors led to the demise of The Process. Ed Sanders, a Beat and Psychedelic era musician wrote a book called The Family. In his book, Sanders wrote at length about Charles Manson and the Tate-LaBianca murders. But in a cynical twist, Sanders makes a dubious connection to "The Manson Family" and The Process. While a layman might take The Process' sensational imagery and written materials as "evil," perhaps the worst charge that can be levelled at them is is that they did publish and article written by Charles Manson (while incarcerated) in their infamous "War" magazine. For less accepting members of society, already suspicious of any form of alternative faith, any reference of violence or darkness, especially on the tail-end of the "Manson Family Murders, was too much.

With rumors of Church leadership fleecing it's "flock" out of money beginning to surface, public hostility was enough to drive people and popularity against coffee shops and worship spaces owned by The Process. Internal strife turned out to be the ultimate nail in The Process' coffin. While details of this event are sketchy, it is widely believed that Robert DeGrimston, who identified as a devotee of Lucifer, wanted to bring other women into bed with his wife. Mary-Anne DeGrimston, who strongly followed Jehovah, was extremely displeased by this development. The divorce of The DeGrimston's broke the back of organization, which officially ceased activity in 1974. Mary-Anne DeGrimston is purported to have passed away in 2004. Little has been seen or written of Robert DeGrimston since that point. It is believed that he may have found success in the Telecommunications industry but no one is ultimately certain.

So what ultimately can be said of The Process Church of The Final Judgement? Reference to London, Boston, and San Francisco would be incomplete without mention of them. Alternative music, especially Experimental and Industrial sub-genres have used the group for subject matter. While they may, in the end, be a brief blip on the cultural radar, the shadow of that blip still rears it's head to cast a chill.

Preview

Anyone recognize this symbol? If you do, you'll get an idea of what I am working on. If not, check back here at the end of the week...this promises to be an intriguing piece.

Meta (A Book Review)

For many people, the nature of horror lies in the acceptable not happening. If you let an item loose from your grip ten times, that item will fall to the floor ten times. So the question of the horror writer is "What happens when, on the tenth drop, the dropped thing simply floats in air?"

Mark Z. Danielewski released House of Leaves in March of 2000 generating an underground following ever since. What makes the book exceptional, however, is that it simply defies explanation, a book that is more an experience than something simply read. By nearly abandoning the traditional structure of the fictional novel, Danielewski creates a literary nightmare that alludes to both fact and fiction that is both touching and repulsive.

House of Leaves primarily follows Johnny Truant, a resident of Los Angeles who is tormented by the shadows of his unfortunate past and a disturbing new reality. Late one evening, a friend contacts Johnny regarding a deceased blind man named Zampano and the sprawling mess of book he was writing, entitled The Navidson Record. Once introduced, Zampano's work becomes a second but equally important plot which runs parallel to the dramatic "crash and burn" that Truant undergoes.

"The Navidson Record" tells the story of Will Navidson, a photojournalist who is abandoning the wild life of seeking out tragic stories around the globe. He and his family settle in to a new home, hoping to use their relocation as a starting point for a more reserved and peaceful life. Soon the calm is shattered by a growing spatial disparity in the structure of their house, an ever-expanding black hole that threatens the life and sanity of all who enter the house.



Lesser writers would render a tale of this complexity to a hackneyed ghost story. Danielewski, on the other hand, swings masterfully between extreme darkness and light-hearted humor. Claustrophobia gives way to vast expanses in the space of a few chapters, often running the two plot lines literally side by side. The first words of House of Leaves warn and challenge us: "This is not for you." The statement is apt; the book does not have a broad appeal. It's very layout does not allow for a passive reading experience. Instead, House of Leaves demands that the audience dive head-first in to a labyrinth of shadows and leave all preconceptions regarding narrative behind them.

For those who might be interested, the album Haunted by POE (who is Danielewski's sister) was written as a partial companion piece to the book and is, on it's own merits as well as it's literary connection, worth purchasing.

Among The Ruins

(Author's Note: I do not condone any activity that might lead to bodily injury or worse. However, I can only say that if you are interested in such behavior, it ultimately falls to the conscience of the individual. I only recommend the usage of your reasoning faculties and to draw your own conclusions. -Lucas)


An inevitable by-product of urban development and progress is the decline and emptying of a structure. These building begin to decay or lose purpose, the needs of industry evolve, catastrophe strikes, and ways of life come to an end. These facts of industrialized living leave, in turn. A physical footprint in the form of once-magnificent buildings, utility tunnels, and other locations in their wake.

There is another inevitability: Humans love to go where they are told they cannot. No amount of legal deterrence, caution tape, or chain link fence will keep a curious person out. While it is fairly common to find someone who has “gone somewhere they shouldn’t have,” there is another category of individuals taking this activity to a peculiar extreme.

Urban Exploration (also called UE, UrbEx, or Hacking) is a practice that has seemingly grown in popularity in recent years, drawing people of various educational, socio-economic, and cultural backgrounds together for the thrill of discovering and experiencing what is often hidden in plain sight.

For Urban Explorers, few locations are off-limits. Abandoned homes, offices, churches, and factories are often the destinations of choice. For those “Hackers” with a sense of the macabre there are empty mental hospitals, jails, and crypts that serve as treasured discoveries. There are even UrbEx enthusiasts who will plumb the depths of storm drains and sewers, or individuals who will climb the heights of bridges and skyscrapers for a unique thrill.

Enthusiasts have referenced a Frenchmen named Philibert Aspairt as the first recorded Urban Explorer. The city of Paris sits atop a vast underground network of tunnels and mines. Once used to supply stone for early Parisian construction, “The Catacombs” proved to have a strong but fatal pull; Aspairt disappeared into them in 1793. His body was uncovered in 1804, allegedly within sight of the exit leading back to the city streets. While technology has come a long way since Aspairt entered the these forboding tunnels with only candles and a set of keys, his story still serves as a cautionary warning.

It almost goes without saying that exploring areas that are remote, abandoned, or neglected is, at best, a calculated risk. Many “modern ruins” are loaded with free floating asbestos. Squatters, some homeless or mentally ill, are reputed to call these neglected structures their own and vigorously defend them. Floors and ceilings are often in severe disrepair or decaying. One need not be an architect or engineer to imagine the myriad dangers that this sort of hobby can have.


Due to the generally illicit nature of Urban Exploration (though there are practitioners who will contact property owners for permission to enter locations,) it is not at all surprising that the relative anonymity of The Internet has allowed a small but active community of explorers to experiment and seek adventure into the world of forgotten urban landscapes. Two sorts of websites seem to dominate the U.E. web-presence: Community Groups and Artistic Works.

Arguably the one the largest and most influential organizations in the world of Urban Exploration is Infiltration. Founded by the late “Ninjalicious,” Infiltration began it’s life as a print magazine but soon found itself growing as a website, publishing articles and providing a message board for U.E. enthusiasts to connect and share information. “Ninjalicious” was the first outspoken proponent of the Sierra Club’s policy of “Take nothing but photos and leave nothing but footprints” to be applied to U.E., feeling that the vandalism or destruction of these locations merely took a potentially great experience away from future visitors. A quick search using the Google search engine indicates the site’s popularity; Infiltration appears as the #3 listing when searching for “Urban Exploration.” The site still draws daily visits and posts, and will likely to persist to be the premier Web Community resource for enthusiasts. On the other hand, Artistic Websites tend less towards education and more towards spectacle. While still maintaining the “Take only photos…” ethos, websites such as Opacity and it’s founder “Motts,” offer the world an intimate glimpse at how beautiful a place in an advanced state of decay can be, all the while protecting the location and it’s photographer from potential problems. Other websites, notably Dark Passages, seem to function as a sort of Jungian photo-essay. The website’s anonymous narrative and gripping, uncomfortable images of a Mental Hospital shortly before it’s demolition serve to show the surreal and sometimes nightmarish world of a place filled with shadows and nearly-lost secrets.

While it’s practitioners may be few and faceless, Urban Exploration will likely be around as long as people continue to abandon and forget about locations in the cities they inhabit. The only thing that remains to be seen, however, is what images are captured and what stories can be extracted from these blighted corners.

I strongly advise you look at these websites!
www.opacity.us
www.darkpassage.com
www.infiltration.org