I couldn’t think of a song title for this entry so I went with an album title instead (I will stop this song thing, it will only last for the NY trip entries). I don’ t know if an album title counts but it sure felt like there was something interfering with what we were trying to do at our next stop— Middletown Psychiatric Center— hence the title

I am not into ghosts. I don’t explore abandoned buildings so I can run into them—I just want to take photos. Some people do deliberately ghost hunt, I am not one of them. I have absolutely no desire to run into anything that will spook me anymore than I spook myself when I’m inside these places. I have many beliefs, and I don’t disbelieve in ghosts, but I don’t think they’re gonna jump out and bite me either.

So, now, back to Middletown Psychiatric Center and its, possible, ghosts.  Once inside we encountered very hot and freezing cold rooms (right next door to each other). We suffered lens fog that seemed like frustratingly more than just lens fog. We had battery issues. You name it—we had it. I am not even going to try and explain it and nor am I going to go into all the details, but it was tough—it was probably a “ghost in the machine.” Good for the ghost, it probably thinks it won—it didn’t, we did—we have photos.

I think camera, problem, wise it was the toughest shoot I’ve had. Even the back-up camera I had tucked, safely, away in the camera bag didn’t want to participate once I needed to call on it. I had two screwed up cameras. I was not happy. I wasn’t really spooked at the time, well maybe a little, but I was as frustrated as all hell.

We only explored one building of, what I hadn’t known was, a multi-abandoned- building campus. I don’t have any desire to go back and explore any more of the campus. One of the many things I believe in is energy, and this place has bad energy. I’d revisit anywhere else on our trip—but not this one. Some things are better left alone.

In all honesty, I went to Middletown because I knew there were coffins in the basement. And come hell or high water I was going to take coffin photos (much to my exploring partner’s dismay). I didn’t have any shots like that from anywhere I’d been (I do have morgues) and there was something morbidly exciting about the whole idea of coffins. In reality they weren't morbidly exciting, or any other sort of exciting—they were just plain distressing. I’m not the big tough urban explorer I think I am. I’m just me, and I’m a woos (according to my exploring partner I'm really girly, so go figure, with what I do, who would ever have thought). But, anyway things like coffins distress me, and death scares the hell out of me, so I don’t know why I try to get close to it— photographically— or challenge it, or do any of the dumb ass things I do—but I do what I do (to many peoples dismay). Perhaps, I just want to make peace with it before it gets me, who knows. It’s one of those things I think is a good idea to not think too much about.

I did find a book, though! I do love books, passionately, and it was a 1903 copy of Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, with the gold leaf and leather binding, and the most beautiful illustrations—it was just incredible—but mouldy beyond belief, and completely worthless in its deteriorated state. I carried it all the way out of the dark, evil basement, containing the coffins, with every intention of taking it with me.

I accidently left it behind—somewhere.

Middletown Psychiatric Center was a good place to leave behind too—forever.