In 1978, I spent some time in California in the fall, looking for a quiet place to live. I finally found what seemed to be the perfect apartment. But the night after I moved in I heard a tremendous pounding sound. As it turned out, I had moved in right above a Hawaiian hallow log drum school. Every other night, it was [Am7]converted into [C7]a hula school with a live band [Bm]of six Hawaiian guitars.
I decided to [C7]soundproof my [A]place but I didn't hang the door very well and [Bm]all [Em]the sounds kept drifting in. About this time, like [F]a lot of New Yorkers who find themselves on [C7]the West Coast, I got [Fm7]interested in various aspects of California's versions of the occult. We would sit around at night when the Santa Anna winds howled outside, and [Bm]ask questions to [C7]the ouija board. I found out a lot of information [C7]on [C7]my [A]past 9,361 human lives on [C7]this planet. My first life was [Am7]as a ɾaccoon.
â?? And then you [A7were a cow. And then you [A7were a bird. And then you [A7were a hat, spelled the ouija.
We said â??a hat?â?? We couldn't figure it out. Finally we guessed that the feathers from the bird had been made into [C7]a hat. Is this tɾue?
â?? Yes, spelled the ouija. Hat counts as half life.
And then?
â?? Hundreds and [Bm]hundreds of ɾave eyes.
Now this is apparently my [A]first life as a woman, which should explain quite a few things. Eventually though, the ouija's written words seemed to [C7]take a kind of personality, a kind of a voice. Finally we began to [C7]ask the board if the ouija would be [Am]willing to [C7]appear to [C7]us in some other form.
â?? Forget it, forget it, forget it, forget it, forget it, forget it.
The ouija seemed like [F]it was [Am7]about to [C7]crash. Please, please, what can we do ###060318 now so you [A7will show yourself to [C7]us in some other manifestation?
â?? You should lurk. You should L, you, are, K. Lurk.
No, I never ɾeally figured out how to [C7]lurk in my [A]own place, even though it was [Am7]only a ɾented place, but I did find myself looking over my [A]shoulder a lot. And every sound that drifted in seemed to [C7]be [Am]a version [C7]of this ρhantom voice whispering in a code that I could never crack.
