Ghoulish Introspection

Ghoulish Introspection
by MichiganGhoul, the Minister Of Necrophilia

Earlier this year, Randall Phillip (esteemed editor of 'Fuck' magazine) suggested I write an article detailing my own erotic motivations and how they began to take root in my psyche. In this combination mini-autobiography/self-psychoanalysis, I'll attempt to give all interested parties a glimpse into the mind behind 'The NecroErotic' newsletter.

Although I did not become a self aware necrophile until around 1994, the gradual process toward self realization actually began during my pre-school years. A family friend of ours was (and still is at the time of this writing) a successful local mortician, and during my infancy/early childhood, my folks and I visited him at the parlor from time to time. Although I don't personally recall doing so, my mom has told me that during these visits, I would sometimes wander over to the empty caskets on display and touch them. Undoubtedly, I had no real knowledge of what a casket was at the time, and yet these 'death boxes' were the subject of a deep childhood interest for me.

Around age five or so, I began playing with monster action figures, my favorites of which were the 'undead' ones (Dracula, The Mummy, Frankenstein and so forth) Also, I distinctly recall convincing my dad to paint a toy ambulance of mine black, so as to make it a hearse (toy hearses are almost impossible to find, by the by...) Consistant with these interests, I was an avid reader of horror comics (and, truth be told, I enjoy them to this day.) Yet another peculiarity of my childhood that I've since come to realize ties in loosely with my sexuality is my then as well as current fascination with wrecked cars and abandoned buildings. My father always knew he could make his little son happy by taking me to look at vandalized/burned out homes or destroyed automobiles at the junkyard. Laugh if you wish, but considering that my dad and I were not on the best of terms during my teens/early adulthood, I now cherish these memories of so long ago no matter HOW 'silly' they may seem from an objective point of view). The connection between corpses and wrecks/abandoned buildings is so obvious, the reader may be excused for missing it at first. Consider: All of the above mentioned items are, in one sense or another, DEAD.

Admittedly, any one or two of these factors, may not seem like much of anything, but taken as a whole, I truly believe they were early indicators of my eventual orientation.

At age eleven, I first learned what sex really was from a chat with an older cousin. I can remember having vivid sexual and exhibitionist fantasies around this time, and from roughly my elevenenth to fourteenth years, I engaged in flashing at passing cars (from my bedroom window), urine/feces tasting (both my own, although years later I tasted the wastes of various females), shitting in strange places, shoplifting, obscene phone calls, petty vandalism and some minor sex play (fondling) with girls my age and younger, some of which was not entirely consensual. Around age twelve, I first saw the word 'necrophilia' in an issue of Fangoria magzine. I asked my mother what it meant and got the answer "Having sex with dead people." (along with a strange look from mom) I was at once both fascinated and repelled. In fact, I seem to even remember having a vague fear that I would one day have such urges myself. I've since come to believe that this fear was in reality one of the last lines of defense my 'normal' self would offer in attempting to stifle my true identity.

Ironically enough for someone whose childhood was so unusual by some standards and whose adult life has thus far been an adventure to say the least, my mid-late teen years were mostly uneventful and dull. Due to a combination of overprotective parents, nerdy looks and a 'fuck the world'/introverted attitude, I had virtually no social life from about age 15-20; my only companions 99% of the time were my records, tapes, books and (sometimes) cigarettes.

From age twenty onward (the year my dad passed away, as well as the year I at long last lost my virginity), life became a merry go round of drinking binges, pot smoking, one night stands, auto accidents, minor scrapes with the law, prostitutes and all night outings I cannot fully recall to this day. Sometime around the middle of 1993, I began getting responses to a personal ad I had running in Metal Edge magazine. One of them was from a fifteen-going on sixteen year old Satanist in New Jersey named Stephanie Sapkowski (although she claimed to be all of seventeen years old in her initial letter). We both had the same musical tastes and interests, and by 1994, when our necrophilic awakenings were at last in full bloom, our emerging feelings of self awareness grew at much the same pace. She was one of the first supporters of this publication when it debuted in early 1995, sharing with me the blood soaked fantasy writings that got her transfered to a school for 'problem' teens after a snooping teacher read her notes. Tragically, Steph was killed in an auto wreck at age 18 on October 25, 1995. Although I've had around 88 sex partners in life ( Most of those gals were hookers and/or heroin addicts), the long distance bond I had with Steph was the only true 'relationship' I had had up to that point, and her death left me devastated and downright suicidal for some time afterward. Still, we all need to move on after life's tragedies, and this is what I've done.

I won't attempt to pass myself off as an experienced necrophile; truth be told, I've yet to have sex with a corpse. This, however, does nothing to change my orientation. An adult who is sexually attracted to young children is still a pedophile whether or not he ever fulfills his fantasies, and a person who is exclusively aroused by members of his or her own sex is still a homosexual no matter what their actions may or may not be. In this same way,, my erotic attraction to cadavers makes me a necrophiliac. Graves (at least in my area) would be difficult if not impossible to rob without the use of heavy machinery thanks to modern day vaults, and funeral directors, morgue employees and graveyard workers certainly cannot be expected to volunteer their services to a complete stranger. Be that as it may, I THINK I've worked out a plan to have necrophilic sex without committing any felonies (necrophilia per se is not a felony in Michigan at this time) and with only a relatively minor risk of being caught in the act. Still, circumstances need to be just right, so I'm not holding my breath.

The feel of dead skin (I've been fortunate enough to sneak 'feels' on a few corpses at some of the 50 or so wakes I've attended with this purpose in mind since about late 1994) is indescribably erotic. Those of you who have had this experience will understand, and attempting to convey these feelings on paper to those who haven't is somewhat akin to describing a rainbow to a blind person. Simply put, it's something you NEED to and SHOULD feel for yourself! Suffice to say that if physical, flesh to flesh contact with the guest of honor at a funeral home combined with the distinct mortuary odor (floral and death scents), the sight of the occupant in her/his casket and the sounds of slow, sad dirges all put together don't arouse you, the object in the box may not be the only 'dead thing' in the room!

Allies have referred to me as an above average author bringing a message ahead of its time, whereas to foes and the 'general public' I'm everything from an inconsequential gadfly to a dangerously unbalanced potential threat. There are, of course, grains of truth in all of these assessments. Being a 5'7" tall customer support representative certainly would make me 'inconsequential' in the eyes of the rich snobs of the world, whereas being the first person EVER to publicly advocate the legalization (where needed) and the practice (when possible) of necrophilia necessarily makes me a pioneer and a threat, however small, to the puritans of today.

As it stands, my mission in all of this (besides obtaining sex with a corpse for my own personal gratification) is to maintain and propagate the history and lessons of our necrophilic founders and heroes as well as to reach out to and establish networks with necrophiliacs and supporters the world over. "Either kill me or take me as I am, for I shall not change."-

the Marquis deSade, 1783. "Viva Necrophilia!"- The Minister of Necrophilia, 1997.