at the time i was desperately poor and didn't have any friends to speak of. i'd been in portland for several months and rented an inadequately insulated apartment in a single story four-plex only a few blocks from laurelhurst park, number 103, the third unit back in a single story 4 unit row running perpendicular to the street. out the front window was a narrow asphalt strip and a waist high, moss covered retaining wall beyond which stood a terribly dilapidated, paint peeled (once white), window broken, weather-beaten two story house, sagging pitifully. the house had an ominous aspect to it and i naturally imagined it haunted by doleful spirits, or that it had been witness to an unfortunate private history that i could only guess at. a shuffling, silent old man lived there alone, never appearing to receive any visitors or family, whom i only saw outside the house twice the entire time i lived there. on one occasion i watched him replace with exquisite slowness a white plastic bucket that had been standing on a tree stump in the yard, which i had removed to the edge of the house considering that it generally upset my view and didn't seem to serve any purpose whatsoever, but evidently it had a purpose i couldn't discern, or else the old man was dearly accustomed to observing it on the stump, so i let it be after that.
the apartment next to mine (number 104, farthest from the street) had a particularly agreeable view, there was a small patch of wilderness beyond where the asphalt terminated, with a cedar tree and lush ferns growing on it. that apartment had long been inhabited by an old butch lesbian named virginia, who had become a frightful, tooth-rotted, cat-loving hag. her personality was pleasant enough and i never had occasion to disagree with her, but i pitied the landlord on her account because the apartment had become a reeking cave with an intense odor of cat piss, which would sometimes waft momentarily into my place whenever the weather was fine and we both had our doors and windows open. she was a hoarder as well, and one could see innumerable boxes, books, magazines, and other articles stacked in every space, warping the floor and providing a mountainous playground for her companions. i don't know how many cats she kept in there, around 5 or 6 at that time i think, but in any case the apartment had become a sort of foul den that would doubtlessly require total renovation if ever to be considered inhabitable for anyone besides virginia and her cats.
i was unemployed, but unconcernedly so since i was collecting unemployment checks from the state of texas, where i had lived prior to my arrival in portland. the checks came bi-weekly, and i had to place a call every other friday to an automated recording in texas to verify i was still earnestly searching for a job without luck, which of course i was in no way doing or even approaching. the recording itself was a work of great comedy to me, it asked questions in an emotionless male voice and required the caller to punch in various digits to indicate responses. near the end of each call i was asked to certify that i had told the truth regarding the previous questions, and afterwards the recording would say:
"you said you told the truth. if this is correct press 1, if this is incorrect press 2", as though i might be tricked into betraying myself through such a question!
i don't think i even went out looking for a job once during that period.
instead, it was a time of great introspection and soul-searching, a cold winter in an uncomfortably chilly apartment considering the future course of my life and exploring my own consciousness. i hungrily read spiritual literature of eastern or new age bent, and had discovered there were a great variety of legal, botanical psychedelics from various regions of the world available for mail order purchase over the internet, with names like "blue lotus flower", "hawiian baby woodrose seed", and "salvia divinorum". i received my packages with great interest although most items failed to induce any great shifts in consciousness, the salvia divinorum a notable exception, but i'll leave off describing those experiences some other time.
also at the time i was in the habit of listening nightly to "coast to coast a.m. with art bell", a four hour radio program that dealt with weird, supernatural, occult, or otherwise generally fascinating subjects on the edge of everyday credulity. hearing art's deep voice rumbling "from the high plains of the nevada desert" was a great comfort to me, like the nightly visit of a kind friend who generally has something interesting to relate and usually brings other interesting people along. art and his guests talked about all sorts of things; evidence of great pyramids on mars, supposedly bottomless holes in washington state that had been requisitioned by the federal government, speculations on "area 51" (which art believed was very near to his own home), psychic powers, and so on. sometimes the topic was more in the realm of accepted scientific facts (interviews with quantum physicists), and sometimes it was beyond even my broad willingness to consider most possibilities (electronic voice recordings ["EVPs"] of ghosts that always sounded like unintelligible static but which pro-EVP guests always interpreted to be saying frightful things like "mommy's in the well" or "help me!"). during commercial breaks art's familiar voice hawked short-wave radios and encouraged investment in gold stocks with the sort of intonation one usually associates with late night used car-dealership commercials, but i didn't blame art for taking a little extra on the side from his sponsors.
that dreary winter i often meditated, hearing only the wind in the cedar tree outside and the incessant ticking, clicking of the electric resistance heaters along the floorboards of the living room, which had regrettably little effect on the temperature in the apartment. i had read the body's electro-magnetic field could be recharged standing spine pressed against a powerful tree trunk, and once i was caught by virginia attempting just that with the cedar tree, on a freezing day dressed only in my shorts no less, since i'd just left a steaming bath and couldn't feel the cold at all. she must have thought i was doing some perverted thing or other, because i made no real effort to explain myself before she went back inside and left me again to my half naked meditations.
it was during this time that i experienced an event that has ever since influenced my perception of reality, one which convinced me the human mind is capable of influencing and even creating physical substance through sheer force of concentration.
one very fine, sunny, rather crisp and clear day i rode my bicycle through the lush, coniferous greenery of laurelhurst park, streaking past flower-laden rhododendrons and verdant ferns en route to the supermarket to purchase food for the meal i would prepare and eat that evening while listening to the radio. my finances were extremely pitiable, although i was generally able to make the most of them by eating only food i prepared myself and abstaining from all superfluous entertainments.
i entered the supermarket and proceeded as usual to collect a few cheaply priced vegetables and make my way towards the bulk bins where the brown rice was kept, on this occasion passing through the snack cracker and chip aisle, which i usually paid no heed to whatsoever since i was obsessed with eating healthy and had developed a genuine dislike for over-processed, synthetic foods of that sort. this time however as i was passing through a box of ritz crackers caught my eye and i felt inexplicably overwhelmed with a powerful desire to taste the flavor of ritz once more. this was particularly odd because i never enjoyed ritz crackers in my life, even as a child i disliked them and would just as soon leave them lying on an hors d'vre plate as eat them. i probably hadn't tasted their flavor for 10 years or more. despite this, i couldn't deny that a bewilderingly intense desire had arisen within me, a tidal wave of want that begged me to forgo the rice and purchase ritz instead (there was only enough money for one or the other on that occasion). i stared fixedly at the gold lettered red box, caught in a trance of confused introspection under glaring florescent lights, repeatedly asking myself why i should desire so strongly an item i had lived quite contentedly without it for so long. a battle raged within me with sense, health, and thriftiness on one side and blind desire on the other. the scales tipped back and forth for some time, an internal argument proceeding all the while:
"why should i want them? they're overpriced and unhealthy"....."yes, but shouldn't you dearly like to have some today, even if it means going slightly hungry?"....."don't be ridiculous, we never buy such trash, why should today any different?"......"every day is a new day is it not?......"shut up."........"i will not".....and so on for a good while, probably an entire 5 minutes i stood thus and stared transfixedly at the box on the low shelf, confused to be caught in such a perplexing and petty dilemma.
eventually my determined thriftiness won out and i tore myself away from the sight of that box and purchased a bag of brown rice, as was my original intent. leaving the store i reflected on what had befallen and thought how strange that such impulses evidently lay dormant within, waiting only for some particular circumstance to take the sensible mind hostage and make stupid demands.
riding my bicycle back towards the park afterwards i noticed a trash dumpster overflowing conspicuously with discarded clothes, a sight that stirred casual hopes of a great find amongst the refuse, so i stopped immediately to investigate whether anything fashionable had been thrown away to my benefit. i approached the dumpster and peered over it's edge where i perceived a pile of uninteresting garments, kind of disappointing, but i barely noticed that because atop the pile resting in perfect repose and seemingly placed with great delicacy was a single wax-paper tube of unopened ritz crackers, the sort of which each box contains three, wax-paper dully reflecting the afternoon sunlight. i could hardly believe that such a peculiar synchronicity was mere coincidence, and felt greatly amazed to consider that my mysterious desire a few moments before may well have physically manifested the tube of crackers. one might allege that it was all a surprising confluence of random chance, but i felt it required far more blind faith to believe that than to consider i had truly experienced a previously unknown aspect reality, that my meditations and experiments had yielded this amusing little incident by way of illuminating the true responsiveness the physical world to the power of thoughts and desires. it was a tantalizing suggestion that the fabric of reality was not as solid and inflexible as generally believed, and might be shaped as easily as an artist shapes clay if only one would venture to believe in that possibility and aspire to such artistry. whether or not some beneficent spirit had taken to make this illustration to me or whether it was purely the work of a subconscious guiding principal within myself i have never ascertained, but i didn't doubt the miracle in the slightest, and indeed such incidents have occurred repeatedly since then in other spheres of my life though never in so whimsical a fashion.
when i got home i ate the crackers and found them delicious. they weren't stale in the slightest.