Selective Amnesia
Wednesday, February 15, 2012 2:24:38 PM

Friday, February 10, 2012 4:16:35 PM
Love, love changes everything,
Brings you glory, brings you shame.
Nothing in the world will ever be the same.
So go the lyrics to Love Changes Everything from the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, Aspects of Love. Having seen Andrew Lloyd Webber I can easily imagine the prospect of actually finding love while looking like that would be such a profound experience, but for most of us it is rather a more sober affair (although it may also be a drunken affair if one is more comfortable relating to people when in that state). Oh yes, there is passion and pain, but to sing about such things from the rooftops is the sort of thing that only happens in musicals right?
Well, no, as it happens. Meet Tomasz Urynowicz, a thirty seven year old from Nowa Huta district in Krakow, Poland. Tomasz is a bit of an art lover and when he was twenty-six acquired the painting on the right hand side of this article. Despite the fact that I personally find the girl in the painting to be very plain, Tomasz was fascinated by her and found her to be an exquisite beauty. He found himself wondering how the subject of the painting (which was forty-five years old at that time) had lived her life and who she had become. Over time his obsession grew and he started searching for the woman in the painting to satisfy his curiosity.
Ten years he searched for clues to the identity of the "absolute beauty with the shimmering hair", with nothing but the painting to go by. Over that time his feelings deepened until he had truly fallen for this complete stranger. He searched high and low for anyone who may have known the artist or the model never once gaining anything tangible. It seemed to Tomasz that the woman of his dreams was forever beyond his grasp. Now, I'd love to be the one telling you that Tomasz found the woman of his dreams. I'd love to tell you that they fell in love despite the difference in ages and that they're happily married right now, perhaps with their first child on the way. I'd love to tell you that but life has never worked that way in my experience. Life is infinitely crueller than that and sometimes, just sometimes, infinitely more wonderful to behold.
On the verge of despair at not finding the woman he loves so completely, Tomasz came up with one final plan to cement his future happiness. He is currently looking for a priest who will marry him to the painting. Personally I can't see it going well as marriages have to be consumated before they are legal these days, and that's going to ruin the brushwork on the painting if it goes ahead, and yet there is something to this story. I honestly hope that Tomasz can find someone who will perform this ceremony and wish Tomasz the best in his upcoming nuptials.
Saturday, February 4, 2012 10:52:27 AM

Saturday, January 21, 2012 5:01:11 PM

Hell, March 13, 1919
Esteemed Mortal:
They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman.
When I see fit, I shall come and claim other victims. I alone know whom they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody axe, besmeared with blood and brains of he whom I have sent below to keep me company.
If you wish you may tell the police to be careful not to rile me. Of course, I am a reasonable spirit. I take no offense at the way they have conducted their investigations in the past. In fact, they have been so utterly stupid as to not only amuse me, but His Satanic Majesty, Francis Josef, etc. But tell them to beware. Let them not try to discover what I am, for it were better that they were never born than to incur the wrath of the Axeman. I don‘t think there is any need of such a warning, for I feel sure the police will always dodge me, as they have in the past. They are wise and know how to keep away from all harm.
Undoubtedly, you Orleanians think of me as a most horrible murderer, which I am, but I could be much worse if I wanted to. If I wished, I could pay a visit to your city every night. At will I could slay thousands of your best citizens, for I am in close relationship with the Angel of Death.
Now, to be exact, at 12:15 (earthly time) on next Tuesday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans. In my infinite mercy, I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is:
I am very fond of jazz music, and I swear by all the devils in the nether regions that every person shall be spared in whose home a jazz band is in full swing at the time I have just mentioned. If everyone has a jazz band going, well, then, so much the better for you people. One thing is certain and that is that some of your people who do not jazz it on Tuesday night (if there be any) will get the axe.
Well, as I am cold and crave the warmth of my native Tartarus, and it is about time I leave your earthly home, I will cease my discourse. Hoping that thou wilt publish this, that it may go well with thee, I have been, am and will be the worst spirit that ever existed either in fact or realm of fancy.
- The Axeman
There were many who scoffed at the letter, some even going so far as to invite the killer to try his luck at their houses. One letter sent to the Times included a polite request that the axeman not damage his door alongside a promise that a window would be left open to accommodate entry. Not everyone showed such bravado though and the majority of the city followed the instructions given to the letter. New Orleans, a city best known for massive parties, witnessed the largest party it has ever seen in its long history. Restaurants and clubs opened their doors to all comers and played jazz all through the night. Families and neighbours joined together in homes with collections of jazz records (big round things that stored recorded music in the olden days) and partied as if their lives depended on it, mainly because they did, which rather neatly brings us back to the start of this post.
The axeman, whether he wrote the letter or not, kept true to its word and no-one was attacked on March 15th. The axeman did go on to kill three other people between August and October in 1919, each time using an axe belonging to the victims and leaving the axe and chisel behind. He was never identified, nor did the police ever come close to having a solid suspect for the case. As suddenly as the murders had begun, they ended. Historians have occasionally put forward theories about other sets of spree killings being linked to the New Orleans murders although the supporting evidence has always been circumstantial at best and entirely fictional (such as the later murder of a man by the widow of the last victim) at worst. The events went on to inspire the Mysterious Axman's Jazz, written by a local musician towards the end of 1919. In typical New Orleans fashion it went on to be a local hit and death was once again turned on its head to become a reason to party in the city.

Thursday, December 29, 2011 11:44:00 AM